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blackarmyslave · 5 years

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//déjà vu//

And once again, I’m late *sigh* Anyways, here’s Day 3 for Ray’s appreciation week! I honestly had no idea what to right josnxdjbvt

@ikerev-appreciation

➵ Theme: Spellbound

➵ Pairing: Ray/Reide & Alice/Charlotte (you’ll see~)

➵ Genre: Fluff

➵ Word count: 1350 words

A burning passion, raging worse than wildfires, consuming her very soul and drowning her heart in it.

That would be figure skating for Charlotte.

Born into a family that had, in their own separate times and sport, joined the Olympics, Charlotte knew from the moment she could walk she’d have to decide on her own sport. Balance beam? No, she sucked at it. Archery? Oh, her aunt would be infuriated and just accuse her of being a copycat. Badminton? No, not quite. Athletics? Why, how she hated running.

Figure skating... now that was her match.

The moment Charlotte’s feet had a taste of skating shoes, she knew it was just right. Not quite tight like running shoes, and oddly warm against her soles despite being in the ice for hours. Well, of course it had made her feet go numb from the cold several times, but something about being in those particular kind of shoes made it much more... appetizing.

She drowned in the feeling of gliding across polished ice for hours, the sound of blades cutting through the thick frozen floor buzzing pleasantly in her core, soul dancing in sync with the piano music she’d skate to. For years and years on end, Charlotte trained and trained. Practicing twirls and acrobatics and leaps and telling a story through her every moment. From every tilt of her head down to how much she’d bend her body to the left of right, Charlotte learned how to make her heart dance.

Today, in the neighboring city’s skating rink, she drowned once more in her fiery passion. La Terre Vue Du Ciel was playing; a favorite piece of Charlotte, while she was practicing on how to nail to a Quad Salchow. It’s been going on for almost a week now and her progress was quite impressive for anyone - anyone but herself.

An impatient perfectionist, and frustrated with how many times she’d been doing this already, the girl momentarily lost focus. One foot landed rigidly and caused her balance to fall.

‘Ninth time this day,’ she growled at herself.

Charlotte pushed her blonde-brown hair out of her face and huffed. The pain of the fall ignored almost completely by her every muscle by now. Blue eyes normally filled with burning passion have now been replaced by hate - hate directed at none other than herself. Yet unbeknownst to her, a pair of green eyes half-covered by a mop of dark hair had been watching by the sidelines. He was wearing a simple enough outfit: jeans with a winter jacket and gloves, earphones plugged in one ear and blasting Green Day, silently watching the lone skater who was not contented by her crazy-high level of talent.

Well, not just that, actually.

Something about her seemed familiar to him. The moment he walked into the building, he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her aura soft yet powerful, like a queen; elegant, unyielding, bewitching. The way she was bending her body as if she was effortlessly cutting through the wind, her fair hair flowing like ocean waves, every flick of the finger in perfect sync with every piano key... it grasped his foot and held him there in place before he can even take a seat. Her entire presence a magnet stronger than any other, forbidding him from looking away.

The only word to describe him: spellbound.

Right now, watching her try again once more, he found his own heart racing, rooting for her, silently wanting her to nail that jump she so badly craved for. With her every spin and every sway of her body, she seemed more ethereal, like a light that captivated him, and never had he been quite as frozen and confused as he was right now.

He definitely knew her. Something in the back of his mind had been screaming that. In some time, somehow, wherever that might have been. He was so sure of it.

Something abut her passionate blue eyes startled him, because it was like looking at someone he knew almost as well as himself. Her hair, a mix of brown and blonde, was so familiar like he’d stared at someone with the exact shade of hair color for countless times a day. Her skin tone, her petite body, how beautifully curved those eyelashes were... too familiar. So familiar it was spellbinding - and frightening, at the same time.

But how could he have forgotten such a person?

Could it be when he had visited London back in 2015? Or was she classmates with him back in middle school? Had they bumped into each other at the Louvre last month?

‘No, no..! Something else.’ They just didn’t seem right. Unconsciously, he began snapping his fingers, wracking his brain for an answer. Even just a clue. She was so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. Something, something...

“Oh my gosh. can your fingers be any noisier?”

“...Huh?”

He’d been pulled from his ocean of thoughts by a voice - a voice that was also too familiar. A voice that soothed and bothered him all the same. Yet he didn’t have much time to ponder. The skater was now just meters away from him, an irritated look on her face, perfectly pink lips forming a pout that he felt like he’d already seen before.

‘For real, this is freaking me out now. Just who is she?’ he thought.

“My bad,” he amended.

She looked at him from his boots to the single earphone plugged in his left ear, and her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes mirrored his own; confused. With that affirming his suspicion of knowing one another, he couldn’t hold back a smile.

“You too, huh?”

She seemed to snap out of it, replying, “What?”

“You seemed familiar to me - very familiar. I was actually snapping my fingers ‘cause I was trying to remember where I’d seen you, but... nada. I guess you feel the same way, too?”

“Well... Actually, yeah,” she admitted after two beats, eyes softening from a steely, defensive blue to a calm one. Shivers ran down his spine. And this time, he knew it was from the way she looked at him and not the icy stadium.

“Do you know, then? Where we met, I mean.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “If we both can’t remember, it was either unimportant or an unpleasant experience.” imma just hint at some angst here dont mind me

“Ouch. Sharp tongue, ain’t ya,” he smirked.

“Or you’re just a softie.”

For a long time, he left out a chuckle, green eyes narrowing to curve to a happy smile. It surprised both him and the girl. He’d never felt so relaxed around a stranger. And never had someone’s laugh make her heart twinge, like it was a sound her soul had been unknowingly searching for.

‘It’s official. I need to know who this handsome bastard-- I mean this little shit, is.’

“So, who might you be? Harry Potter? Ray Blackwell?”

His eyebrows rose. “Ray who now?”

“Just the black-haired, green-eyed guy Alice ended up with in the book Alice in Wonderland II.” Her blue eyes danced in amusement.

He just let out a snort. “Sorry, but I’m not a wizard nor do I know someone named Alice. The name’s Reide.”

“Fair enough. I’m Charlotte.”

A handshake was shared between the two, and although both hid it well, neither can deny that a spark electrified them. Not just their skin but also a part of their soul. Like how a once dormant part of them them came back to life without being aware that it was dormant in the first place. Messy and confusing, it had been, knowing they’d met before but not really remembering when or where. Both familiar yet a stranger in the other’s eyes at the same time.

But both were just contented right now, being simply comfortable with the other’s presence, and knowing their name - even if it’s only the first name. Who knows? Maybe Reide will visit the rink again, and Charlotte can talk to him. Maybe they’ll be friends through a bit of drinking.

Or even something more.

Like how it had been in another world, in another time.

#MOST RUSHED THING EVER #IM LATE AGAIN GAAHHHH #rayxappreciationweek2019 #i have a thing for ending fanfics this way huh #i honestly dont know what is this #like brUh #ierev #ikemen revolution #ikerev ray #reincarnation

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buckyscrystalqueen · 5 years

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The Winchester Blood Line: Part 4

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Past John x Reader

Warnings: One Night Stand, Swearing, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 4,170

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well.” A familiar voice said behind you as you walked down the road. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this?” You turned around to look at the man that had broken into your home two months prior with tears in your eyes and stained on your cheeks.

“Is it true? You’re a demon?” Crowley, who was rarely caught of guard, took a step back and raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve been talking to a hunter.” He said simply as he snapped his fingers and caught a steaming mug and a blanket out of thin air. He offered them to you, but you took a hesitant couple steps back. “Come now, darling. It’s just cocoa. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m OK.”

“Then do it for your child.” He said, playing into your motherly instincts. With a sigh, you conceded, and stepped forward so he could wrap you in the warm blanket. “There’s a girl.”

“Is it all true?” You asked again as he built a fire from nothing and created a seat for you as well. “Is Sam lying?”

“I’m sorry to say, love. He’s not.” You nodded your head and cradled the cocoa glass to your chest as tears filled your eyes yet again.

“But why me?” You said as you looked over at the demon. “Why am I being targeted by these things? I’m just a music teacher. That’s all. I didn’t do anything to deserve this! Why am I being hunted?” Crowley smiled internally but kept his face emotionless as he realized that the woman in front of him, and therefore, the youngest Winchester had no idea of the baby’s true blood line. Which also meant being one step ahead of John Winchester as well. So on the spot, he came up with the most convincing lie he could.

“Look, kitten. My demons tend to go a little rogue sometimes. They’re not fond of rules. But I will ensure that no matter what, they will stop hunting you, how’s that sound?” You nodded your head as you sipped your drink.

“Will my baby be safe, too?” You asked as you searched his brown eyes, almost waiting for them to turn red again.

“I swear upon my immortal soul.” He said as he looked over his shoulder. “About bloody time, Winchester.”

“Back up!” Sam growled with venom in his tone.

“Now, now.” Crowley taunted as he gestured over to you. “We were just having a pleasant conversation in front of a nice, cozy fire on a cold night. Isn’t that right, kitten?”

“Don’t call her that.” Crowley watched closely as the youngest Winchester moved his body between yours and the King’s protectively. Almost too protectively. “Leave her alone.”

“Oh, I intend to, Moose.” He said with a mental chuckle as he realized that Sam was head over heels in love with the mother of his brother. “I’ve no need to harm the innocent thing.” Without another word, he disappeared right before your eyes. Sam whipped around, and kneeled down in front of you.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked as he cupped your jaw in your hands. You shook your head, and showed him your cup.

“He gave me cocoa.” You whispered as you looked down. Sam sighed and relaxed as he sat back on his heels in front of you.

“Please, please don’t do that ever again. I know what’s in the woods. That alone is a terrifying thought.”

“I’m sorry.” You breathed as you started to cry again.

“No, hey, shhh.” He said as he got up, picked you up off the chair, and sat down in it with you in his lap. “It’s OK. But just don’t go wandering off by yourself, OK? Crowley may seem trust worthy but he is so far from it…”

“Oh.” You sniffled as you looked down at the cup in your hands. “Is my cocoa OK?” Sam huffed a laugh, and smiled as he nodded his head and rubbed some warmth into your slightly exposed legs.

“Yea, sweetheart. I’m sure your cocoa is just fine.”

——

“Daddy?” We’re here!” You called out as you walked into your house a little later than you expected since you had a hard time dragging yourself out of bed after your late night excursion.

“‘bout time!” He called back from the back of the house where he was probably sorting through the Christmas boxes in what was lovingly referred to as ‘head quarters’, also know as your spare bedroom slash decorations storage room. “Mikey, come give me a hand.”

“Avoid the kitchen.” You reminded Sam as you steered him toward your living room where there were already a few boxes waiting for you. “That's Princess.” The small Pomeranian, who was laying on her bed in front of the roaring fire, perked her head up at the sound of her name, but almost instantly laid back down when she realized her daddy wasn’t in the room. “She’s lazy unless Rico’s in the room. I just leave her alone.” Sam nodded as he put your bag on the stairs to take up for you later as you opened the first box to look at your Santa collection.

“Boy.” Your dad said as a greeting as he walked past you and Sam with the bottom of four ten foot tall poles that would resemble Christmas trees when he was done.

“Dad, I won’t tell you again to be nice!” You called after him as your brother, who was ‘only’ six foot tall jogged to keep up with your dad’s brisk pace. Hearing your voices, RJ came power walking out of the kitchen in a flashy red shirt, and tight, green skinny jeans that had been bedazzled to death with a tray of appetizers.

“Hi. Cute dress. So, we have the caramel apple cheese dip from last year that you liked, pita and hummus, my queso bean dip, and this is crab dip so that’s not for you this year.” You nodded your head as RJ looked up at Sam, pursed his lips, and nodded, approvingly. “You can keep him.” He turned to kiss your cheek with a loud ‘muah’ before practically running back into the kitchen.

“That’s Rico Suave.” You said as you grabbed a cracker and dipped it in the apple cheese dip.

“I see that.” Sam laughed as he took the tray from you since you were having a hard time getting the actual cheese on the cracker one handed. “Which one should I try first?”

“This one.” You said as you made him a cracker. “Taste.” He nodded his head as you offered him the cracker, and he tried to not bite your fingers. You smiled at his moan of approval as you licked a bit of cheese off your finger before making one more for yourself.

“Damn that’s good.”

“He found the recipe on Pinterest, I think. I can ask him later if you want.” Sam nodded his head as you quickly snagged a piece of pita with hummus and turned away so you wouldn’t over eat too early in the day. “Alright, decoration time. I always end with my Santa’s. That’ll be these two boxes.” Sam nodded as he put the tray down on the coffee table and wiped his hands off on his jeans.

“Look out then.” He said so he could move the boxes around for you.

“This one I think is towels… yea, this one I can do. Can you move it closer to the stairs for me?” You stepped out of the way to check for a box Sam could do and nodded to yourself. “OK, this one is your job.” He looked over at you as you started to pull out long strands of garland and sort them on the ground. “The darker one goes on the banister in swoops. You start at the top, and there are little zip ties. Then you go back over it with the lights, and cover the zip ties with the bows. They have twisty ties on them. But make sure the plug in part is down stairs. I have it on a light switch that I can turn on and off from up there and down here. Makes it easier for the pregnant girl.”

“I think I can handle that.” He laughed as he started pulling stuff out of the box. “Wreath go, too?”

“That goes at the top of the stairs so it hangs down over the foyer here because there’s not much I can do with this weird section of vaulted ceiling. You’ll see where it gets tied because there’s a couple scuff marks on that banister. Just… here, I’ll just do it because it’s not pretty enough.”

“Oh, so it’s gunna be one of those days.” He chuckled as he held out his arm for you to use to stand up, and not tip over.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You said with a smile as you went over to grab the towels for the upstairs bathroom and the wreath. “I’m pretty particular about my decorations.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it all set up?” You asked your brother a week after Thanksgiving as he did some last minute tech fixes before the big, annual neighborhood reveal of your light show.

“Just fucking chill.” He snapped as he looked back and forth between his laptop and the lights in your yard and on your house and garage. You smirked at him as he called out to your dad to adjust one of the sections over RJ’s shouts for the sweets and drinks you had for sale to help pay for the electric bill and to donate to the local hospital where he worked as an LPN. “Sam, section four, channels 28 and 29 need to be switched back on the strip!”

“Sam?!” A voice from the crowd yelled causing you to turn to look at the hundred or so people standing in the road and on the sidewalks. You watched Sam’s head perk up as he stood to look for the person that called his name.

“Dean?!” You quickly grabbed the megaphone you used to talk over your neighbors and turned in the back of your dad’s pick up where you had a chair set up for yourself.

“Dean Winchester. Please follow the sound of my voice to the driveway. You’ve officially been recruited for light duty.” You went to put the megaphone down, and thought better of it for a moment. “Show should start soon, people. Y’all know the drill.” You set the megaphone back on the truck bed floor, and smiled at the man walking toward you. “Dean?”

“Pretty face like yours?” He said as he moved to the side of the truck by where you were sitting. “You must be (Y/N).”

“Oh, you’re a charmer.” You giggled as you shook his offered hand. “Your brother’s over there, sweets.” He turned to look over where you were pointing to where Sam was replacing a lightbulb that was out on his way past.

“Oh, ho, ho.” Dean chuckled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket with a giant smile. “He’s wearing a fanny pack.”

“It’s a tool belt.” You corrected as you used a piece of PVC pipe to tap his arm. “And no pictures until the show starts. House rules.” You smiled at him sweetly as he put his phone back in his pocket with a forced scowl.

“Well you just ruin all my fun.” He teased as he climbed into the back of the truck and took the seat beside you. “So… you’re pregnant…?” He said hesitantly, obviously not knowing what else to say to the complete stranger beside him.

“Not at all.” You replied as you rubbed your stomach. “You see, I swallowed a watermelon seed at a picnic back in May. And the doctors are just afraid to remove it because it’s gunna cause all sorts of problems. They say I only have two months to live. Told me the watermelon’s due to burst somewhere around Valentine's Day, too.” Dean huffed a laugh, and nodded his head as Sam came over with a chuckle of his own.

“I like her.” Dean said as he got up, and jumped down from the truck to say hi to his younger brother.

“What are you doin’ here?” Sam asked as your brother jumped up into the truck to conduct the show from there.

“Was passing through on my way back from Louisiana.” He said with a glance back at you. “Headed up toward Bobby’s for a little.”

“What’s up at Bobby’s?” Sam asked a little softly as he leaned against the truck. He followed Dean’s glance up at you as Mikey jumped right back down to check the main panel that was stored in a shed in the back yard to make sure the music volume was turned up. “She knows.”

“Werewolf clean up. We got a lot of them this past moon cycle but Dad wants to make sure that we got them all.” Sam nodded his head as he took off his tool belt and laid it gently in the truck bed so the spare lightbulbs in it didn’t break.

“You have fun with that. I have an interview next week to get back into school, and I’m not letting you make me miss this one.”

“So you’re staying here?” Dean asked before you silenced both of them because your dad was walking over with RJ and the table of desserts and drinks.

“We’re ready when you are.” Michael said as he sized up Dean. The older brother stuck out his hand but your dad just growled at him. “No.”

“Dad.” You sighed as he easily jumped up into the truck bed to sit on the toolbox. “Ignore him, Dean.”

“Alright, we’re ready on my end.” Mikey called out as he jumped back up into the trunk. You grabbed the megaphone and used Sam’s shoulder to stand up carefully. All four men around you reached up to grab the closest body part so you wouldn’t topple over thanks to your 29 week along bump.

“Alright, every one. It’s that time again! Now, just like every year, we replay the show with music at 7:30 on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. Tell your friends. Cookies and drinks will only be sold on Friday’s this year though because I’m pregnant and y’all demand a lot of cookies and it’s hard enough to keep up when I’m not pregnant.” There was a collective laugh from the crowd as Mikey remotely turned off all the lights on your property to start the show. “And now, I am pleased to present, the (Y/L/N) family holiday light snow.” Sam helped you sit back down in your chair as Mikey took a deep breath and hit ‘play’.

You all waited on baited breath as the opening sounds of the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ intro you used every year started with a ‘wave’ effect of all the lights starting on from the far side of the yard and ending right next to you. They lights went dark for only a moment before Mikey’s current line up of Christmas rock songs blared the four speakers on your front porch. Just like it did every year, the eight minute long show played through sixteen different song blips, and lit up over ninety-seven thousands lights, thousands of times. And just like every year, you were always in awe of what Mikey was able to put together.

Your heart soared as you listened to the ‘ooo’s’, ‘ahh’s’, and gasps from your neighbors and you reached over to pat your brother on the shoulder. He reached up and held your hand, proud of what he had accomplished. You couldn’t stop the tears that fell on your cheeks as your hormones ran wild, and almost as if he knew you were gunna cry, Sam reached over and put his hand on your knee. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and you laced your fingers his.

“We did good.” Your dad said from behind you and your brother as the show was wrapping up. You nodded in agreement as the neighbors all cheered at the end of the show. With a couple clicks of his keyboard, Mikey turned the lights back on so that they played through the show at a quarter of the pace and with no music. RJ, who had been watching the show from the tailgate of the truck, reached back to grab the megaphone to make his announcement.

“Thank you all for coming!” He called out as he stood up so people could see him. “Now, as you know, the proceeds from tonights little bake sale get split fifty-fifty. Half goes back to the (Y/L/N) family to help cover the extravagant costs this show accumulates each year. And this year, on behalf of the new mama bear in our family, the other half of the proceeds will go to use in the recently updated maternity ward at Medical City Alliance to cover costs where it’s needed. We still have some goodies left tonight! And from our family to yours, happy holidays.” The crowd cheered again as you sighed, contently.

“You do this every year?” Dean asked as he turned and leaned on the side of the bed of the truck while your dad and brother both went off to turn off the sound system and pull the speakers a little farther back on your porch so they didn’t get wet if it rained or when the sprinklers came on.

“Every year since I was ten. Help me up, babe.” You said as you let go of his hand and stretched your arms out in front of you.

“Alright, come on, watermelon smuggler.” Sam teased as he jumped up into the truck bed and pulled you to your feet. “I told you you should have put the chair on the ground.”

“Wouldn’t have helped much.” You said sarcastically as Dean came over as well to help you get down. “Such heroes.”

“Oh, stop.” Dean said as you kissed his cheek.

“OK, now you gotta come buy me a cookie and a cocoa. It’s for a good cause.”

“There it is!” Dean laughed as you shot him a wink and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Just usin’ me for my money.” You pulled Sam over to the table with you after Dean and leaned against his side to wait for your turn in line and say hello to your friends. Neither the two Winchester boys, nor you saw the familiar black GMC pickup truck drive past your house a little slower than the rest of the cars in the line heading home after the show.

——

You sat in a chair beside your piano, watching one of your nine year old students bumble roughly through ‘Jingle Bells’ for the thousandth time, when Sam knocked once, put in the code for the lock you had given him, and walked in your house like he did practically every afternoon when he got off work. You held up your finger and tried not to cringe at yet another wrong note, as you glanced up at the clock.

“That’s good, Jasmine.” You said with a nod as her mom honked her horn outside. “But you gotta remember to keep practicing when you’re not here, OK? You’ll get it before you know it, then.” She smiled at you as she grabbed her backpack since she had come from school and waited for you to get up yourself to walk her out.

“You got it?” Sam chuckled as he jogged over and helped pull you to your feet because even though you were only 30 weeks, you looked like you were 50 weeks.

“Hush your face.” You said as you held his arm and your bump while he pulled you up right. “Alright, honey, let’s go.”

“I’ll walk her.” Sam offered as he watched you trudge at a glacial pace toward the front door with your student. “You just stand on the porch.”

“That OK with you?” You asked Jasmine to make sure she was comfortable with that. She nodded her head a little frantically and looked up at Sam, causing her face to flush bright red, and a small giggle to escape. “Alright, I’ll see you at the bus stop on Thursday, then I won’t see you again until the new year. Make sure you keep practicing, though, alright?” She nodded her head as she took Sam’s hand and let him walk her down the steps. You waved at her mother, Cara, and leaned a bit to the side to talk to her when she rolled down her window.

“Having fun yet?” She teased.

“Yea, loads!” You laughed with a shake of your head. “He just keeps getting bigger.”

“They do that.” She joked as she looked back at her only child. “You have a name yet?”

“I’m not even close.” You sighed. “Nothing feels right…”

“Don’t rush it.” She said with a nod. “One day, you’ll hear a name in a movie or read it on a poster or something and you’ll know… you’ll just know.”

“I’m in no rush.” You smiled with a shake of your head. “I have a feeling it’s a name I’m gunna be yelling for a long, long time.” She laughed and nodded her head as she put her car in drive and waved goodbye. You stayed out in the cold, waiting expectantly and impatiently for Sam to make it up your walkway and back up the steps of your porch. “Well?!” He stopped at your front door and sighed, dramatically and you could see he was trying to fight his smile.

“I’m back in.” He said as he looked over at you. You screamed and cheered as he wrapped his arms around you and let out a sigh of relief. “I just have to make up the last semester I walked out on.”

“And the scholarship?” You asked as you walked back into the house to get out of the cold.

“Different story.” He sighed as he locked the door behind you. “Full ride I had in Stanford is gone. And they don’t really offer full rides to dropouts that come back six years later.”

“OK, but there’s options.” You groaned as you simply let go of Sam’s helping hand and fell back into the couch with a sigh. “Damn, I’m way too pregnant. But there’s other scholarships you can apply for, right? So you don’t have to take out a loan. I mean, I’ll fib and say you’ve lived here for a year so you get in-state tuition. You can even move into the bedroom down stairs to save on rent because this house is paid for…”

“Hey, slow down.” He chuckled as he sat down on the couch beside you and pulled you into his side. “Look, I’ll figure it out, sweetheart. That is not something you have to worry about. I have my job, I can hustle my ass off. I’m still really good at that. I already have the financial aid paperwork, I can do work study. I’ll figure this out, sweetheart. And if I have to, I’ll take out a loan. But it’s on me. Not you. You have a baby to worry about.”

“Sam…” You sighed but he shook his head and got up.

“Not your problem.” He called out on his way to the kitchen. “My problem.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You sighed as you kicked your feet up on the table and wiggled down in your spot. You looked down at your bump and smiled as you pushed against your skin. “Hi baby boy.” You cooed softly when he kicked at your fingers. “How are you feeling today? You nice and cozy warm in there? Chillin in your personal water bed? You’re a lucky one, baby boy… Luke.” Your brow furrowed as your son double kicked your fingers when you poked at the same time you said the name. “Luke? Are you a Luke, baby boy?”

“Did you say Luke?” Sam asked as he came around the corner with drinks in his hands. “Luke (Y/L/N)…”

“I think he likes it, too.” You said with a smile as you pressed against your son’s feet. “Do you like it, Luke?”

“Can I?” Sam asked for the first time. You smiled and nodded as you reached out for his hand, and put it on your bump.

“You just gotta press down. Not a lot but not to lightly either.” You said as you pushed on his hand until you knew it was enough. His smile grew when Luke pushed back in protest.

“It still blows my mind. The capabilities of the female body…”

“We grow people.” You agreed with a nod. “It’s quite a feat.”

“That it is.” He agreed with a nod as he leaned closer and gently rubbed your bump, playing a little game with Luke.

Part 5

#Sam Winchester x Reader #The Winchester Blood Line #Sam x Reader #John Winchester x Reader #John x Reader

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najatheangel · 3 years

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Hello! I saw some of the ships youre doing, and thought they were fantastic. I was wondering if I could request a date with BTS ship? I'm quiet until I get to know someone, but then I open up, and can be very funny and sarcastic. Im usually the mom friend, and I've been told I have a very calming presence, as well as give great advice, but I also love to joke around, and be playful. My ideal type is usually someone good at communication, but who knows when to let loose, and when to be serious. Someone I can have a conversation with, but also tease. I also need someone who I can trust, and can help me calm down, as I have an anxiety disorder. I'm sorry this is getting so long, I tend to ramble. I'm very cuddly, and like affection but understand when people don't. Ideally for a date, id honestly be fine with anything, but I love being outside, or watching movies, or listening to music. Id honestly just want something where we could have fun, but can still talk and get to know each other. If possible could it end with some slight smut/ fluff? I hope you're having an absolutely amazing day, and are doing well!

Hello my dear, thanks so much for telling me about yourself, I think I know exactly who I’m going to ship you you with. Your so patient, here’s your ship...

The member your going on a date with is...Taehyung

His outfit for the date:

Your outfit for the date:

How it all started: You’ve just bought your record player for you and your roommate to share for her 21st birthday and you were on a trip to buy some new songs to play on the record player. Your roommate was out with her boyfriend as usual which really annoys you sometimes when she has him over 3x a day having their boom boom sessions in her room every night.

You just needed a break and you preferred to spend some quality time alone shopping or walking around the beautiful city of Hong Kong admiring the scenery. Another part of you wanted to meet a special someone sometime soon. After finishing school, moving to a different country and have a small friend circle, but one thing was missing, a love interest to keep you company.

You’ve entered the local record store that was five minutes away from your apartment and the smile on your face creeped immediately when you saw that they still had your favorite artist records still in stock. You’ve ended up noticing one of your neighbors that have recently moved in walking around the store tapping his feet along the music in the store, which made you pause and stare at him with heart eyes. The neighbor’s name, you guessed it...Kim Taehyung.

He first moved in next door with his 6 other roommates to focus on his music career in South Korea with his band Bts. Your crush on him didn’t blossom until your roommate invited him over one time (since she’s dating Jeon Jungkook) to pick up her boyfriend since he was too drunk off his ass to leave. He noticed you and smiled while carrying his tired friend next door saying “I’m so sorry about him. He partied a little too hard huh?” Ever since he noticed you that day, you both would only exchange smiles and “hello” and “good nights” to each other.

After keeping your head in the clouds daydreaming about that memory, you’ve snapped out of it immediately once you noticed his hand touching yours holding the same record you were going to purchase.

Y/N: Oh my god, I’m sorry about that, you can have it. Smiles blushing handing the record to him.

Taehyung: smirks. Oh that’s alright, I was just looking anyway. I didn’t know you listen to Labrinth? His new album was amazing wasn’t it? Looks at you speechless and then looks to the side coughing. Well it was nice bumping into you here, see you around y/n...

“He’s so gorgeous, it’s now or never girl”. Those were your friends words whispering in your head. You were nervous shaking in your boots, but you knew it was time to make moves. All of a sudden your body moved on it’s own holding on to the sleeve of his jacket and he turned around immediately with wide eyes.

Taehyung: What’s wrong y/n? You can have the cd if you want, I know how much you love him..

Y/N: No no, that’s alright. Actually clears throat. I was wondering if you wanted to share that cd with me at my place and we can listen to it together?

Taehyung: Oh, actually that sounds like fun. While we’re at it, let’s eat something before we head there. Offers you to link your arm with him. Oh and don’t worry about buying that, my treat.

Y/N: Giggles linking arms with him walking towards the register. Wow if I knew this was this easy, I would’ve done this a long time ago.

The date spots: Street Food Market/Apartment

Street Food Market: After a long day of browsing in the music store, what a way to start the night with walking around trying new foods at the street food market.

Taehyung was holding your hand like it felt natural. You weren’t the best with crowds so he allowed you to cling close to him as much as possible. He preferred it that way, because little did you know, he formed a little crush on you too.

For the main course you guys taste tested different Korean BBQ and tebokki from different food stands. A lot of people were giving packs of meat out for free, because ya know He’s V from Bts.

Market Lady 1: Here my dear just take it. I appreciate all the music you’ve made it changed my life.

Market Lady Husband: Share with the special lady too, she deserves it. Here’s some veggie wraps too and cook a good meal together.

You and Taehyung look at each other flustered, but you just decided to take their offer and take some free food home.

You guys even shared some donuts together couple feeding each other. A lot of people around the market admired you two together and were hyping you up in the background.

Y/N: Taehyung, say ahh. Attempts to feed him, but teases him by biting it. Mmmm.

Taehyung: Ohh so it’s like that. Crossing his arms fake pouting. Tears the big piece of the other end of the donut eating the whole thing with cheeks stuffed. Laughs uncontrollably.

After chasing him for almost an hour around the street for that donut, you both decide to do your shopping at one more store to get matching glasses. You decide to take some mirror couple like pictures with Tae on to send to your roommate messing around.

First few pictures were cute and friendly, but the last few got flirty really fast. You and Taehyung started looking at each other completely forgetting what’s around you and starts leaning in sharing a short, but sweet kiss.

Y/N: I can’t believe you kissed me! Holding your cheeks together looking at the mirror, but Taehyung of all a sudden turns you around to face him with a serious look on your face.

Taehyung: I have to tell you something, but it has to be back at the dorm. Starts winking at you and walks out the store holding your hand all cool.

Your Apartment: Taehyung on way home has been quiet, but very cuddly against you. You didn’t exactly know what to say either after he left you speechless in the store.

You unlocked the door and immediately set down your bags putting the food in the fridge and playing the new Labrinth album on the record player.

He was leaning on the couch looking at you just in awe as you do your little dance dance to the music. He licks his lips as the tension gets thicker.

Y/N: Didn’t you have something to tell me? Your getting a little off track... Sits next to him on the couch putting your hand on his thigh.

Taehyung: chuckles Oh yeah that’s right. Instead of telling you, why don’t I just show you.

He stands up all of a sudden switching the cd on the record player to a song that he has been working on and playing it off the record player singing it to you.

He lifts your body off the couch slow dancing with you as the song almost ends. The last lyrics hit you and you start shedding tears.

You learned that all along Taehyung has had a crush on you too and have been waiting for the right moment to spend time with you. His says last words before you give him your answer.

Taehyung: Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?

Y/N: Stands on your tippy toes kissing him romantically. Yes yes 1000x yes.

The kisses slowly turn from soft to sexy real fast. He pushes you against the wall in your room sliding his hands under your shirt.

Y/N: W-wait. Let’s close the door just in case.

Taehyung: continues multitasking by kissing you and kickstart the door closed by blocking out all the noises.

Aftermath: As expected you and Taehyung tied the knot last night and he ended up laying next to you holding you on his arms. All of a sudden you hear a knock at the door and two voices of your roommate and Jungkook saying...

Roomate Jamie: Heyy y/n it’s time to get up, it’s Saturday let’s go out to eat.

She knocked two times, three times, but still no answer.

Jungkook: Jamie let’s just open the door and wake her up.

Jamie opens the door and slides the cover off your body and has the most shock look on her face when she sees Taehyung playing with your hair.

Jamie: When in the hell did this happen? Baby come in here and look at these two.

After hours of explaining how you and Taehyung ended up together, both Jamie and Jungkook screams “Finallyyy” and giggles looking at the both of you so proud.

Jungkook: So now that you both finally made it official, why don’t we start our double date today? Pats Taehyung’s back.

Taehyung: Only if my sweetheart is okay with it. Looks at you holding your hand caressing it.

Everyone looks at you anc you nod smiling. Your friends squeal all excited and hugs each other.

Jamie: Ummm, and put some clothes on you freaky little lambs. Sticks her tongue out at you.

You throw the pillow at her as she walks out the room with Jungkook leaning her head on his shoulder.

Taehyung looks at you lovingly smiling like a precious angel. All of a sudden he tickles you and gives you one last soft kiss on the lips.

Taehyung: We seriously gotta get up, they’ll get made if we’re late. Let’s take a shower together to make this faster. Wiggled his eyebrows jokingly and you hit his chest laughing.

Y/N: Fine, but you better not try to pull anything while we’re in there. Five minutes...

You both get up chasing each other in your room as he grabs your clothes and you both played with each other until it was time to go.

@kim-jias-den Thanks so much for requesting my dear. I think I’m going to go rest my hands now lol, but I hope you enjoyed this ship. ✨✨💖💖

#submission #kpop ships #idol date ship #date with an angel #date scenario #bts ship #bts fluff #Bts slight smut #Bts #Taehyung #date with idol ship

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stirpulses · 7 years

Text

Off the Memory Lane (ft. B.A.P) [Day 2]

The consciousness hit him when he was lying defenseless in the crook of the couch, his left leg brushing the floor, his back aching from the unwonted softness, the clothes, creased and rumpled, biting into his flesh. The air was huffing past his lips in a fast spasmodic rhythm, his heart exerting itself to outrace it with thrice as fast a beat. The nightmare came again, repelling the pills, tricking his body into terror. This time the vision was more focused: he could distinguish a dark human-like silhouette against a huge white structure, the shadow was staring at him with starving covetous hollow eyes, gnashing its fangs with a sickening clang, closer, closer. A piercing wail erupted, crushing all other sounds and images alike. It was screaming out a name, Yongguk, calling for his friend, demanding for him to appear, a desperate cry for help. Mere bawls were not enough to conjure his friend, he knew, oh how bitterly he knew. The nightmare, that had just been dragging for an eternity, appeared for his awakened self to happen in one great convulsion like an outburst of thunder.

How much of the vision he had actually seen and how much he had been implicitly aware of, he wasn’t sure now. The dream logic had directed that odious show, turning impossibilities the wrong way out. He just wanted it to stop, why weren’t the damn pills working anymore?

Himchan slipped from the couch cursing the doctor and his prescriptions and pulling off his shirt. What was the point of the medicine that failed to serve its single use? Unbuckling his jeans he shuffled towards the bed. But what was there for him beside those pills? He gingerly swept the pillow and the toy to the floor, pulled at the sheets, added the bedclothes to the pile of the sweaty clothes he just striped off. Laundry time! Setting up the washing machine Himchan decided he shouldn’t idle either. The work was tired of waited.

He picked up the laptop from the floor, switched it on and cleared some place for it on the desk with a swift wide motion. Just as his computer welcomed him with an lively sound effect a buzz filled the room. Himchan followed the sound until there was nothing before him but a TV on a stand and a wall. Meanwhile the hum continued. He turned the TV sideways and reached behind the drawers into the dust with an inner shudder. He had never cleaned there, it was a perfect spot for new life forms to develop. Finally, a phone was vibrating in his hand. Daehyun was persistent.

-You ditched us again.

-Ha?

-Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss another rehearsal. — Lighthearted sigh. — Seriously. Enough. Are you showing up next time or what?

-I’ll try. I mean… I’ll come. Sure. — The rehearsal was the very thing, it would be a shiny day to break the rainy season.

-The mourning is officially over? Manse~! — Cough. — Sorry. Hope you’re in high spirits again. We need you, man. We do. — The laughter boomed wide and clear.

-Lend me some of this glee next time we meet, would ya? — Daehyun’s sincere laughter and forward attitude slowly lifted the weight from his heart. He involuntarily smiled.

-No shit, you need it and… can I beat it into you if it doesn’t just seep in by itself?

This time they laughed together.

-Almost forgot! — Daehyun blabbered on. — The lyrics. Have you finished them yet?

-I’m on it.

-Bring them all. Even the roughest drafts. It’s past time we start practicing the new stuff. And, do I need to mention, Youngjae and I are dying to see the lyrics! Bri~ng them.

-Rodger that.

-Cool. Gotta go.

And Daehyun was out. Wait, when should he come?! Had Daehyun simply forgotten to tell him or was he supposed to know? After Yongguk vanished his whole schedule snapped right through the middle and crumbled to an unmanageable nothingness.

The phone screen was flagged with missed calls and unread messages. Too much of them, would deal later. Work was the first item on his list. Or should he really spend a few sweet moments fiddling with the lyrics? Himchan strained his memory to recall what he was writing about. Was it love or war or roofs on fire, it made no difference: if he couldn’t remember, he could always start anew. A wave of inspiration caught him unawares, crushed down on his head, flowed over him, carrying his compliant body to the prolific shores of imagination. The delight of pouring down words, of tasting rhymes, of feeling your way through similes. The work could wait a little more. Should he sketch out a couple of lines, maybe come up with a verse, or even outline a whole song? He would relax, untangle his stupefied nerves- "When Yongguk was wroting his lyrics..." That was enough to turn his enthusiasm sour, metallic and citrus in his mouth, bile and acid in his throat. There was nothing that could bring out stronger memories of his old friend more. That was his passion, the passion for music they shared and cherished together through the years.

Work. Overload his brain with tasks, numb his senses with information, infect his system with busyness. Himchan started by pedantically checking his mail.

It was time for a coffee break. Every employee has a right for a little rest, even at times when the mind remains restless. Also, his legs and back were screaming for some action. Just a quick trip to his usual cafe and an immediate retreat back home. No prolonged stays at the table, no roundabout wanderings across the town, no attention drawn and no civilities exchanged. He would ask for a take-out and walk a couple of leisurely circles round his apartment block until he ran out of coffee. One should learn from one’s mistakes. But it seemed like he was getting all the lessons wrong recently. So should he be trying to learn after all?

Waiting in the queue Himchan surveyed the interior to distract himself. All in vain. Too many vivid memories connected this place to his friend. They used to sit here for hours jabbering about their wishful present, reminiscing about their not less blissful past and planning out their even more hopeful future, so much for that; they had lingered here over many lazy breakfasts, stolen countless quick lunches and toasted non-stop over filling hearty suppers. Sometimes they had just met in front of the cafe, late at night, to squander their youth elsewhere. Was there a table they hadn’t sat together at or hadn’t spilled some beer on?

Gazing at the neat rows of tables he caught a glance of a tousled boy with a mole on the nose bridge who was eyeing him intently through narrow eye slits, from behind a chicken sandwich. The youngster looked vaguely familiar yet he didn’t seem to belong to his usual circle. In any case, Himchan would rather leave the cafe ignored or unnoticed regardless of their degree of acquaintance. He hurriedly turned to the counter willing people to move quicker, gape less and know exactly what they want. Fat chance!

Got hold of a warm assuring paper cup he bolted out of the cafe, eyes scanning the floor, the doorway and the welcoming pavement. He was squinting at the sun when a voice halted him.

-Wait.

It just might not have been for him, he could have pretended not to hear the words in a hurry, he might have but an uncanny pull was already turning him around.

-Remember me?

He peered at the boy, straining his eyes as his brain refused to cooperate. The effort echoed through his head with tentative stabs of pain.

-About a week ago. — A moment’s hesitation. — Police station.

Right, he had seen him among the damn gang that day. Slim and ashen-faced, he had been the youngest, it seemed, still in his teens, a lonely minor in that pitiful bunch. He had been the only one to come with his parents. As well as the only one to show his fear, or was he simply the only one evolved enough to know to feel it in that shitty situation.

Two days after the search started, five days after his friend’s sister reported the disappearance, the cops found out that the missing youth was a part of a small street gang and quickly shook off their lax attitude. That must have turned up the heat under their asses a few notches. His close friends and latest acquaintances had been brought in for questioning.

-Right. That evening. Your whole… group was there.

The boy fidgeted and blurted out.

-I don’t hang out with them anymore.

-Good for you. — He nodded.

-My name is Jongup. I just- There are still no news. And I thought- Heard anything? — He cast a sidelong timid glance.

-No, same here. Nothing.

-I see. — The smirk was bitter and foul-tasting. — I should have known, there are no happy endings. You were close, right? — He didn’t wait for an answer. — Seen you coming to his place a couple of times. Well, I was his neighbor. It wasn’t that long since he moved next door but still… He was always so friendly towards me, attentive and encouraging from the day we met, even though he didn’t have to.

The boy broke the eye contact, his eyes darting between tiny cracks and other imperfections in the pavement. The moment neared, squeezing his throat, drying his mouth till the tongue rustled against the roof.

-At first I was going to join them alone but that day I just happened to bump into him at the stairwell as I was leaving. He looked so down, I realized he was more like me than I previously thought. Later he told about the expulsion, I didn’t know at that time. Seeing him that way, I don’t know, I just asked if he would want to go with me, told what I was up to. Honestly, I had no idea it was that serious. — He turned his voice down to a confessional whisper. — I was just a bit angry, wanted to belong, I needed the change and- I never wanted to get mixed up in this shit… drugs or stealing or… whatever the cops hinted at. — He turned away, uncomfortable, fingers clutching at his hair. — I mean- I only wanted to say- I’m sorry! I feel guilty and dazed and- Relieved! It was an eye-opener. I’ve never seen my life that clearly before. If it wasn’t for him, who knows… And it’s not entirely my fault. I didn’t know, I couldn’t.

There were no befitting words left inside them to share. They met strangers, they walked away feeling more distant. The only link that could have bound them together went missing, leaving a widening hollow to push them apart.

Himchan wandered back home, his legs dragged along, their steps unsure, their goal unknown. His head flared rhythmically with a hot agony of aches and qualms, mutinous thoughts chipping measly pieces off his mind with every other breath. Well-rested and ready for a new working cycle, the headache awakened from its obligatory nap, stirred up by the accidental encounter that in place of a person left a sucked out, chewed and crooked lump of numbing fatigue and prickly sensations. That boy made his heart resonate to so many notes guiding it up and down a minor scale: loathing, sympathy, discomfiture, and simple fear. Muddied speculations on the lad and their conversation were pushed out of his head as the neglected memories of his gone friend resurfaced and rushed into his conciseness.

All the anger and frustration over his friend turning off the road they had chosen together to instead slide down a treacherous slope of disgrace and degradation, resentment boiled inside him with new strength. Right, they even had a big fight on the subject in that gloomy, unkept park not long before the disappearance. They screamed, and pushed, and blamed, and desensitized, and half-awarely hurt each other with rushed words, raw and undercooked. Thankfully, the exact wordings escaped his memory yet the tightening grip around his heart, the carmine blazing voice rasping in his head, and the whole unreality of the damn thing were still with him, as palpable as back then, rancid on the nose. Was it the last time he saw Yongguk? Most likely. At least it explained why he had been drawn to the park the other day.

The monstrous gray bulk of his apartment block loomed above him. The coffee had been peacefully sloshing in the cup the entire walk, untouched. He tasted his mouth: full of chewy worries and regrets. He was full for now. He opened the lid, slowly turned the cup and watched the lukewarm liquid dissolve into dark splotches on the asphalt, so easy.

After the crisp street air the room felt stuffy, instantly sucking his T-shirt and jeans inward, gluing them to his body. He opened the window, a gust of the wind hurried a pile of scraps and papers down from the table. Should have tidied up the useless junk a long time ago, bad luck, always a day too late. A shallow sigh, his back bent over, pecking at a paper after paper, he gathered all the rubbish, even discovering several gum and candy wraps, what a treasure hunt. Standing over a trash can he briefly looked through memos and documents. One by one he tore them and scattered over empty water bottles and frozen food packages. He dazedly lingered over a small handwritten note. “Never do this again. Himchan” The first word underlined twice. So… he had written it, apparently. Why was it still with him then? Had forgotten to give it? Got it back from an angry addressee? Had no time to pass it, or the opportunity, or the courage? All three? And wait, for whom had he written it? What had he done wrong? Could it be-

The phone ripped at the silence, its jingle slammed into Himchan’s thoughts through the wall. He swiftly threw the remaining papers in the junk and scuttled to the bedroom to interrupt the out-of-place merriness of the tune.

-Hello.

-Thanks god, you’re okay and not ignoring me anymore. — Junhong’s voice beamed at him across miles of concrete and steel. A mingy light ignited inside him but it burned out quickly, too frail to withstand the harsh blows of the wind and too deep down to offer any warmth. — You’re with me?

-Sorry. Just dozing off a bit. I’m right here.

-Are you eating well? You can’t live on coffee alone for so long. — Puffy sigh. — Oh, you’re not missing your rehearsal tomorrow, are you? It’s bound to cheer you up. — A huge smile pushed its way through the speaker.

-Yeah, Daehyun called this morning. Made it clear I have little choice but to go. — He suppressed a chuckle. Would it be weird to ask? He swept up together the beggarly debris of his nonchalance. — So, it’s tomorrow then?

A silent question filled the frequency.

-Y-e-s. The contest is coming. You agreed to meet every other day and did, before- Have you changed your mind and postponed the rehearsals?

-No-no. It’s just… My mind’s a bit hazy lately. Don’t mind my ramblings.

-Is this a side-effect of that drug you've mentioned? Have you told your doctor? — Junhong’s voice leaned closer.

-Not a big deal, really. Don’t worry, I-

Statics cut trough the line, just occasional scatters of phrases breaking through from the other side, nonsensical and mysterious. The ragged buzz consumed his mind. Most terrifyingly, he couldn’t tell if it was flowing from the phone into his ear or the other way around. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pinched his nose bridge. A wavering instant on the threshold. The reception cleared.

-… of yourself. Listening?

-Aaa-ha.

-Have the depression deepened again? It is because of that guy, in the coffee shop?

He froze, blood thickened, numbing and weighting down his limbs, lungs turned into a dumb-bell, useless for breathing and too heavy for his chest to hold on to any longer, time swirled around in slow-motion. How? He hadn’t seen Junhong there, so the boy hadn’t been there, couldn’t. It takes some exceptional skills to overlook such a lanky guy, even sitting he sticks out like a sore thumb. And if he knew of the meeting, had he heard their conversation? How much of it? Did he have a hand in the whole thing?

-Junhong, do you know that boy? — Cold sweat traversed his back in short stealthy charges, from one vertebra to another.

-No, never seen him before. So it is what threw you off balance after all!

Either he was going crazy or the world, a humorless fellow it was, was playing a dour joke on him. He was looking into things too much. God, he needed a break.

-Oops, there’s another incoming call. Work. Later.

-Sure, hyung. See-

Tall fierce waves of pain crushed against his temples with every thud of his exhausted heart, cold coils nestled in his throat and chest, entangling and twisting into unswallowable knots. Himchan gripped at the tabletop. It was clearly an overreaction, what a drama queen. That was stupid, it meant nothing, the whole day was a mucky incongruous mess. Or his life a bad dream.

He should get a hold of himself… But how did Junhong know? Icy dew of sweat trickled down his neck sending a shiver through his body.

Work. Just get to work. No need to ponder over mysteries the life was diligently throwing at him. He excelled at forgetting recently. He could use that trick once more. He revived the computer, concentrated on the glowing screen, loud music in the headphones, hands tapping at the keys, stifling a gentle tremor. The night was going to be long.

~UG

#bap scenarios #kpop scenarios #bap scenario #kpop scenario #bap

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

Note

I don't know if you've gotten one like this, btmut Barry's just a regular CSI, and he takes his super villain fiance to his high school reunion. Maybe bounce Len scaring the crap outta Woodward?

You know, I’ve missed writing Coldflash…

Fic: Face Blind (AO3 Link)Fandom: FlashPairing: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart

Summary: Barry’s just a regular CSI. Totally 100% boring, normal, and standard.

Except for the fact that he’s dating a supervillain.

(Prompt: Barry’s just a regular CSI, and he takes his super villain fiance to his high school reunion. Maybe Len scaring the crap outta Woodward?)

A/N: Willing to write more in this verse, but have no more ideas. Feel free to toss me additional prompts for it.

————————————————————————

It just sort of happened, okay?

Barry’s a regular guy! He has a Netflix subscription, a part-time ownership agreement with his neighbors over their cat (who goes by the name of Number 2 and who seems to think Barry’s apartment is an extension of his property), an excellent best friend who’s getting married (Iris! Married! How?!), a regular but kick-ass job (CSI, just like on TV except for totally not like that), a standard but not excessive amount of work drama (Singh is getting better about Barry’s punctuality thing, he hopes)…

He’s also kind of face blind.

That last one is particularly relevant. Not to his job as a CSI, mind you, because he can compensate with any number of things and it’s not like he’s a sketch artist or a detective or anything, he analyzes the scenes, not the people.

Just, you know, to…everything else.

Because, you see, Barry got off late from his job and he was dying for a curry from the place down the corner and he was due to get on a conference call to discuss his most recent case in, like, two hours, except it’s rush hour and all the tables are taken and the hostess apologetically explains that a table would take at least an hour.

And they don’t do take-out.

Damnit.

That’s when Barry spots the guy. He’s got a nice little two-top, and he’s obviously alone because his jacket is tossed lazily over the second one and, well, what the hell.

Barry really wants that curry.

“Gimme a second,” he tells the hostess and skirts around the tables to get over to the guy’s corner.

“Excuse me,” he says.

The guy blinks up at him.

“I’m sorry – this is so weird, I know – but I’m, like, I would kill for a rogan josh right now and this is the only place for miles that does it properly, but all the tables are taken and they don’t do take out and I’ve got a conference call in an hour and a half so I can’t wait. Any chance I could, uh, sit here? I can be really quiet.”

The guy stares at him for a second, then smirks. “Yeah, sure,” he says, kicking out the chair across from him. “But only on the condition that you make conversation with me. I don’t do quiet.”

“You’re amazing,” Barry says gratefully, and sits down.

The guy ends up ordering a couple of extra dishes – Barry has a ridiculous metabolism, okay?! – and they split them all, loading everything onto warm naan and waving their hands in the air as they debate, well, everything. The Central City Cougars’ miserable performance, the benefits of hockey vs. football, the current political climate (City Hall: mess or hot mess?), musical tastes (they’re both eclectic, have a guilty pleasure for musicals, and think that Supernatural is worth watching only for the stellar soundtrack)…

Honestly, Barry’s had worst first dates, and this one wasn’t even one.

Well, it’s not right up until the end when the guy – Len, he introduced himself as – grins and says, “That was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“I agree,” Barry says.

“Let’s make it a real date this time,” Len continues.

Barry blinks, and blushes. “Uh, sure,” he says, unable to fight a smile. “Real date it is.”

While Barry’s distracted fidgeting with surprised pleasure – Len’s really hot, okay? Barry’s inability to remember faces doesn’t mean he’s blind-blind – Len manages to snag the check and pay it.

“Hey,” Barry protests.

“Relax; I’ve got the cash,” Len says, and smiles for some reason.

“Still,” Barry says. “Next time, I cover.”

“I’ll let you think that if it makes you feel better,” Len teases.

Barry kicks his shin lightly.

Len laughs and programs his number into Barry’s phone.

Barry’s having a great time right up until his conference call, where instead of talking about the most recent cases – Julian’s covering a jewelry store robbery, while Barry’s focused on proving a domestic abuser’s involvement in harassing his ex-wife – Singh clears his throat and says, “Allen, what were you doing just now?”

“Having dinner,” Barry answers, frowning. “Why?”

“The having dinner part we understand,” Joe says, sounding aggravated. “But why were you having dinner with Leonard Snart?!”

Leonard Snart, as in Central City’s first supervillain. Leader of the Rogues. Regularly named in the same tier as the Green Arrow’s bad guys, or Superman’s in Metropolis’, or even Batman’s in Gotham’s, even though Central City doesn’t actually have a superhero as of yet.

Leonard.

Len.

“Oh crap,” Barry says. “I think I just went on an accidental date with him.”

“Allen,” Singh says. “I mean this in the kindest possible way: How do you always do this?!”

Obviously Barry’s not going to go on another date with him.

Except, well, it turns out that there’s a really important money transfer going on the next Thursday evening, hard cash involved, just up Snart’s alley, and Julian’s the first one to suggest that, well, you know, you don’t have to do anything, Barry, that would be unethical, but theoretically if Snart – notorious control freak that he is – is sitting in a restaurant having dinner with you, he and his Rogues are probably not going to be hitting the transfer.

“You’re joking,” Barry says.

Except he’s not, and neither is Singh, Joe, or Patty.

So Barry calls Len and sets up a date for the appropriate time and place.

“– if that’s not a bad time for you?” he concludes.

“For you, I’ll make time,” Len says.

“That’s incredibly smooth,” Barry says skeptically, because, well, he has had dinner with the guy before. “Who fed you that line?”

Len sniggers.

They have dinner. It’s amazing. Len is funny without trying too hard, interesting, listens to Barry and actually thinks about what he’s saying instead of just brushing him off; he’s attractive, friendly, and tips the waiter well after he steals the check again. He walks Barry back to the subway and leaves him with a short brush of the lips without even a hint of disappointment when Barry indicates that he’s not taking him home tonight. Basically a perfect date.

(The money transfer goes off without a hitch.)

And, well…

It’s not that it’s, like, an officially condoned relationship or anything. No one’s pushing Barry into anything he doesn’t want to do, you know? It’s just – well.

If Barry happens to be going out with Len again, then his co-workers would be interested in knowing when and where and what else they might be able to schedule at the same time. Especially given that Snart’s Rogues continue their reign of more or less impossible-to-pin-on-them-but-everyone-knows-who-it-was thefts and robberies without even the slightest hint of anyone, even the police, being able to stop them.

Singh just stops assigning Barry to the Rogues’ cases, that’s all, and ta-da! No conflict of interest.

The dates continue to go well.

Very well.

Let’s put it this way: no one’s forcing Barry to do anything, but Barry is very much okay with doing it all by himself.

They’re curled up one evening – Barry’s apartment – and Len says, out of nowhere, “You should meet my family.”

Barry blinks. “Your family?” he echoes.

Because as far as he knows, Len’s only family – Leonard Snart’s only family – is Lisa Snart, aka Golden Glider, aka the femme fatale of the Rogues.

“Mick and Lisa,” Len says. “You’ll like them.”

Oh, yeah, and Mick. Mick Rory. Heatwave. Pyromaniac, Rogue, second-in-command.

“Uh,” Barry says.

“I know I haven’t talked about them that much,” Len says, like he doesn’t reference his sister and his best friend every three minutes in conversations, though never by name. “But you’ve read their records, right?”

“Their…records?” Barry squeaks.

Len laughs and leans in, resting his head on Barry’s shoulder. “Barry,” he says fondly. “I know what you do for a living. You literally rant about it every time we go out. Especially Julian.”

“Well, Julian,” Barry says automatically, because Julian’s kind of a dick.

“I’d be amazed if you didn’t know who I was and what I do by now,” Len continues. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. The precinct uses times when we’re hanging out to try to run important money business, right?”

Barry sighs. “How long have you known?”

“Oh, basically since the beginning,” Len says. “Second time we met, you were all shy all over again – at least until I got you to relax. Then you were fine again.” He pauses, considering. “You’re an extremely trusting person, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me,” Barry says. “Several times. I assume by the way you’re talking about it that you don’t mind?”

“Nah,” Len says. “I know that they’re doing it, and if they ever try to pass something I really want I can still get it, but in the meantime I kind of like it.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “The CCPD is planning around me now. They’re not even trying to take me down; they’ve accepted me and my crew as a force of nature.” He smiles. “What’s not to like?”

Barry rolls his eyes.

“So?”

“As long as they don’t kill me,” Barry says.

“Don’t piss them off, then,” Len advises.

“That’s so comforting.”

“You’ll like them.”

Barry finds, to his incredible bemusement, that he does.

Mick is hilarious. Legitimately hilarious. He’s got this excellent deadpan thing going and he’s got a sly little sense of humor that bounces off of Len’s just right, and the stories he tells (many about Len, given that they’ve been best friends for thirty years) are side-splittingly funny. And Lisa is just – well, Barry’s never quite gotten the shovel talk like that before.

“Iris would love you,” Barry tells her before he thinks better of it.

And, well, after he’s met Len’s family, it would be rude not to invite him in return.

Well. Maybe just Iris and Eddie first.

Joe later.

(Later meaning never.)

Iris is the one who brings it up.

“A reunion?” Len says, grinning.

“Oh god,” Barry moans. He’d forgotten about that.

“Oh yes,” Iris says, grinning evilly and high-fiving Lisa. They loved each other on sight, naturally. Eddie is glaring at Barry.

Barry acknowledges that he deserves it.

Mick is making sandwiches. “I think it’s a great idea,” he opines. “You’ve never been to a reunion before, have you, Lenny?”

“Dropped out of high school,” Len reports. “Never got a chance.”

“You should take him,” Iris says, her eyes glowing. “I’m in his class; I’m taking Eddie. It’s traditional to take your significant other.”

“Iris,” Eddie says through gritted teeth.

Mick plops the sandwiches down in front of them. “Eat,” he says.

“Don’t ‘Iris’ me,” Iris tells her fiancé. “Have I said a single untrue word?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and picks up one of the sandwiches.

Barry watches as his face does something interesting.

“Eddie?” he asks, a little concerned.

“These are amazing,” Eddie says, mouth still half full. “Oh my god. Iris, try one.”

Iris does.

As does Barry.

“You’re cooking for our wedding,” Iris announces.

“I am not,” Mick says.

“I’ll make Barry take Len to the reunion if you do,” she bargains.

“I’m taking Len anyway,” Barry objects, though he hadn’t known he was going to do it until he said it.

He blames Mick’s sandwiches.

Len just laughs at all of them.

And that’s how they end up RSVPing “yes” to Barry’s stupid high school reunion.

“This is such a bad idea,” Barry says.

“Probably,” Len says.

In fairness, Len takes to bad ideas like a duck to water. Barry should’ve known better than to let him anywhere near Iris.

It’d be bad enough on its own – Barry did not enjoy high school – but naturally, Len goes all out, in his own inimitable fashion.

Some people going to a reunion and wanting to show off might show up in a nice suit, rent a limo, maybe a flower or something, something like that.

Len shows up in head-to-toe black, a wicked smirk, and his motorbike, which is only the sexiest thing Barry has ever seen and which Barry has been trying to wheedle his way into a ride ever since he saw a picture of Len escaping the cops on it.

(The parka Len always takes with him on heists? Very distinctive.)

“Okay,” Barry says. “I’ll go.”

“Thought you were planning on cuffing yourself to the stairwell?” Len inquires.

“You brought out the motorbike,” Barry says, scowling at him. “You know that’s cheating.”

“Iris is paying me off to make sure you make it there,” Len confesses cheerfully. “Totally worth it.”

“I don’t even want to know what she offered you,” Barry says, but lets himself be coaxed onto the bike anyway.

Wrapping his arms around Len’s waist, helmet blocking the wind from his eyes and letting him lean in close…

Yeah.

“That as good for you as it was for me?” Barry asks at the end, a little dazed and more than turned off.

“You’re giving me inappropriate associations,” Len grouses. “I have to ride that for work, you know.”

“You don’t have to anything for work, Len. You’re a supervillain.”

Len waves his hand dismissively.

“You sure we can’t go home?” Barry asks, eyeing the door to his high school cafeteria warily. “I’d make it worth your while…”

“You always make it worth my while,” Len says. “Now get.”

“I just didn’t have the best time at school, okay?” Barry grumbles. “I don’t want it rubbed in my face or anything.”

“It won’t be,” Len says. “I promise.”

Barry should’ve asked him how he was so sure.

He really, really should have.

At any rate, Len answers the first casual “so what do you do” question with “Oh, you know, this and that - bit of high-end theft here, terrorizing the city there. I don’t like to be pinned down too much.”

Nobody even notices Barry after that point.

“This is really quite fun to watch,” he tells Iris, smiling fondly as Len tells his captivated audience about that time he (allegedly) stole a sculpture out of the Louvre. In copious (alleged) detail.

“You totally won the reunion,” Iris agrees, grinning. “Told you you would.”

“How was I supposed to know that everyone would be really into mingling with a supervillain?”

“He’s a Rogue,” Iris points out. “He’s on TV every few months. Doesn’t matter what side, he’s a celebrity. A charming celebrity.”

“He really is very charming…”

“And all yours.”

“And all mine,” Barry agrees, and grins.

Barry is sent to get more drinks while Iris goes to dig Eddie out of the hole he seems intent on making in the wall using his head, because he’s promised Iris he won’t arrest Len and Len seems to be taking that promise and running with it all the way down the football field the way he’s talking about the highlights of his criminal career tonight.

(Alleged highlights.)

Barry’s smiling the whole way there.

Right up until -

“Hey, look who it is!”

A heavy hand falls on Barry’s shoulder.

Oh, and the night was going so well, too…

Barry fixes a smile on his face. “Hi, Tony.”

“Barry Allen,” Tony says with great satisfaction. “How you been doing, man? It’s been ages!”

You don’t say.

“I’ve been doing fine,” Barry says, trying unsuccessfully to edge away from Tony’s steel-fisted grip on his shoulder. “Uh…you?”

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Tony says cheerfully. “Got a job at the ironworks, pays well enough. Got a gym back at my place. Man, Barry Allen. Who’d have thought? We used to have so much fun together back in school.”

Barry’s brain temporarily shorts out. Total blue screen of death.

Fun?!

Tony “you were born to take a beating” Woodward thought they’d had fun?!

“Hey, that cute pseudo-sister of yours still around?” Tony says hopefully, looping an arm casually around Barry’s shoulder like they’re friends or something. “You ever hook up with her? I know you had a serious thing for her back at school.”

“No, I’m dating someone else,” Barry says shortly. “Iris is around here somewhere. Actually, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to –”

Tony snorts. “The shrimp’s actually dating someone? Guess there’s someone for everyone. You should set me up with that Iris chick.”

“Uh, no,” Barry says. “She’s also dating someone. A cop, actually.”

“Pssh, cops,” Tony says. “Who needs ‘em? Gimme her number. I know you know it. C’mon, do an old buddy a solid.”

“We weren’t buddies,” Barry points out, but it’s not helping; Tony’s reached over and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “Hey! Give that back!”

“I will in a minute,” Tony says, breezily ignoring Barry the way he always had. “Let me just –”

A hand plucks the phone out of Tony’s meaty hands like it’s nothing.

“Hey, I was using that!” Tony protests.

“Because I have such a respect for other people’s property,” Len drawls. “That’s what I’m known for, me.”

“Listen up, punk,” Tony starts. “I don’t know who you think you are –”

“Captain Cold,” Len says, the smirk on his face cold as ice. “And unless your plans for the evening involve visiting the hospital for a severe case of frostbite, I suggest you rethink who you’re picking a fight with.”

Tony squints at him. “You’re not…” he starts uncertainly.

“I most certainly am,” Len says. He’s doing the thing he does with Mick sometimes, where they both seem to get taller and broader and infinitely scarier than they are normally, eyes going hard and deadly and suddenly reminding everyone that the Rogues’ code of non-killing is a fairly recent invention. “Now I’m going to say this just once, and it’s going to stick: stay away from my boyfriend.”

“Your –” Tony sounded befuddled, his eyes casting around the room in puzzlement before landing on Barry. “Allen?!”

“Bye, Tony,” Barry says, unable to keep from smiling.

“I –”

“Oh, and we were never buddies and high school wasn’t fun,” Barry adds. “Just, you know, fyi. So go take a hike before Len decides he’s going to ice you anyway.”

Much to Barry’s amazement, it actually works: Tony retreats, still looking somewhere between puzzled and affronted.

Len loops an arm over Barry’s shoulders. “Let me know if anyone else is bugging you,” he says, smirk still sharp and dangerous. “And I will ice ‘em.”

Barry laughs. “No, Tony was the worst,” he says. “Good thing you didn’t bring your cold gun.”

Len is suspiciously silent.

“Len,” Barry says. “You didn’t bring your cold gun, did you?”

“Just a miniature version.”

“Len!”

#my fic #coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #mick rory #iris west #eddie thawne #face blind

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elizabethcariasa · 6 years

Text

Beware year-end ID theft and quick cash scams

Nothing says Merry Christmas like the disembodied Santa head lights (click for a closer, clearer view) that brighten our fireplace hearth each holiday season. (Please ignore my reflected selfie!) And yes, this and other Christmas decorations are already, before Thanksgiving, up at our house! Ho, Ho, Ho!

I know we've yet to celebrate Thanksgiving, but I can tell that Christmas is near, too.

How?

Well, in addition to having already decorated our house (interior only so far for us, but Santa displays already adorn some of our neighbors' front yards) for Santa's annual arrival, I'm getting the usual year-end flood of spam phishing scams promising me money just in time for the gift buying season.

So far, I've been contacted by the presidents of Benin and Nigeria (is this a step up from the old prince?), diplomatic agents from other relatively unknown countries, the International Bank for Reconstruction & Development (IBRD World Bank) and the "transfer inspection officer" at my personal bank.

Money giveaways is NOT one of the alerts I signed up for at my bank's online site.

Federal fakers, too: Fake U.S. government offices and agents also are getting in on the scams.

I've gotten recent fake emails from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, Vice President Mr. Mike Pence (yep, the prefix was included in the message) and acting Homeland Security head Elaine Duke. That's Ms. — I'm sorry — Gen. Duke's generous, albeit fake, offer below. You can click on her message for a larger view that will let you see all I could get.

As a tax journalist, my favorite was, of course, from U.S. Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, or as he introduced himself in the most recent spam email, the head of the "executive agency responsible for promoting economic prosperity and ensuring the financial security of the United States."

Mnuchin now joins his predecessor Jack Lew in being used by tax identity theft crooks on scam emails they send me. At least they keep up with presidential administration changes.

$ hooks to phish for personal info: All of these imposters are promising amounts ranging from $1.5 million to $25.5 million. My mind boggles at the thought of all the presents even that smaller amount of millions could buy!

That, apparently, is what the slew of scammers are hoping I and the other spam scam targets will think.

All this fall-into-my-lap wealth will cost me, depending on the email sender, is a few dollars to release the documents.

And, oh yeah, my financial identity details. We're talking name, address, bank and/or credit or debit card account numbers, phone numbers (land, mobile and fax), age, occupation, marital status

Well, phishing identity thieves, think again.

I am not that gullible. And I'm hoping that most other Americans aren't either.

Obviously, though, some folk still fall for this crap, since it still gets shoveled out to email boxes on a daily basis.

No tax scam yet, but just wait: I've not received any tax-related phishing scams, but you can bet those crooks are gearing up for the upcoming tax season (whenever it might start).

In fact, IRS.gov's home page today features a recent Twitter post warning tax pros about the latest identity theft scheme targeting them.

So as you get set to enjoy the holidays, make sure the only people you invite into your home and life are your friends and families. Don't let identity thieves and other financial crooks wheedle their way into your finances and festivities.

You can find tips from the IRS on how to avoid scams, as well as in these items from the ol' blog:

Beware these 13 tax ID theft scams

4 tax cyber security tips from IRS, NY tax officials

Protecting your financial & tax data from Equifax hackers

Don't fall for tax ID theft phishing scam from crooks impersonating tax software companies

5 ways to protect your identity (and money!) during National Tax Security Awareness Week (and year-round!)

Ho, Ho, Ho! Finally, a quick P.S. to those ready to send me angry email about celebrating Christmas too early. Don't.

I've heard it all before and if it works for you to go full-bore for both Thanksgiving and Christmas or whatever end-of-year holiday you celebrate, good for you.

But that doesn't work for me. The two are too close together. Canada has it right, holding Thanksgiving in early October, an actual harvest month.

So I choose between Thanksgiving and Christmas, which seems fitting since the dates of both were arbitrarily chosen. Dec. 25 was selected by the early Roman Catholic church to pull pagans and their end-of-year celebrations into the Christianity fold. Thanksgiving came to be celebrated on a national scale at the end of November first by President Abraham Lincoln as a way to seek some brief respite from the ongoing Civil War.

Since Christmas is my favorite holiday, it won the month-or-less-apart holiday battle.

I love Christmas with all its lights, decorations and music. Heck, I've even incorporated Christmas carols into tax tips! I love the ham we serve on Dec. 25 because I love pork more than turkey. Basically, I just love the December holiday season for any and all reasons. And I love it so much that I want to extend it.

Plus, I hate taking the time to put up all our decorations (and it's a lot of time since we've collected a lot of ornaments, some shown below, and the like over our three-plus decades together) and then then taking them down about a month later.

A few years ago I finally wore down convinced the hubby to decorate for Christmas in early November. Like the first weekend after Halloween.

It works for us. And I've discovered that turkey and dressing taste exactly the same with our tree up and mantel decorated.

So ho, ho, ho and happy holidays to us all regardless of which ones we celebrate and how we choose to do so!

// <![CDATA[ // <![CDATA[ // &lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;gt; // ]]&gt; // ]]> // ]]>

0 notes

christophergill8 · 6 years

Text

Beware year-end ID theft and quick cash scams

I know we've yet to celebrate Thanksgiving, but I can tell that Christmas is near, too.

How?

Money giveaways is NOT one of the alerts I signed up for at my bank's online site.

Federal fakers, too: Fake U.S. government offices and agents also are getting in on the scams.

Mnuchin now joins his predecessor Jack Lew in being used by tax identity theft crooks on scam emails they send me. At least they keep up with presidential administration changes.

That, apparently, is what the slew of scammers are hoping I and the other spam scam targets will think.

All this fall-into-my-lap wealth will cost me, depending on the email sender, is a few dollars to release the documents.

And, oh yeah, my financial identity details. We're talking name, address, bank and/or credit or debit card account numbers, phone numbers (land, mobile and fax), age, occupation, marital status

Well, phishing identity thieves, think again.

I am not that gullible. And I'm hoping that most other Americans aren't either.

Obviously, though, some folk still fall for this crap, since it still gets shoveled out to email boxes on a daily basis.

No tax scam yet, but just wait: I've not received any tax-related phishing scams, but you can bet those crooks are gearing up for the upcoming tax season (whenever it might start).

In fact, IRS.gov's home page today features a recent Twitter post warning tax pros about the latest identity theft scheme targeting them.

You can find tips from the IRS on how to avoid scams, as well as in these items from the ol' blog:

Beware these 13 tax ID theft scams

4 tax cyber security tips from IRS, NY tax officials

Protecting your financial & tax data from Equifax hackers

Don't fall for tax ID theft phishing scam from crooks impersonating tax software companies

5 ways to protect your identity (and money!) during National Tax Security Awareness Week (and year-round!)

Ho, Ho, Ho! Finally, a quick P.S. to those ready to send me angry email about celebrating Christmas too early. Don't.

I've heard it all before and if it works for you to go full-bore for both Thanksgiving and Christmas or whatever end-of-year holiday you celebrate, good for you.

But that doesn't work for me. The two are too close together. Canada has it right, holding Thanksgiving in early October, an actual harvest month.

So I choose between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the dates of both were arbitrarily chosen (Dec. 25 by the early Roman Catholic church to pull pagans and their end-of-year celebrations into the Christianity fold and on a national scale at the end of November first by President Abraham Lincoln as a way to seek some brief respite from the ongoing Civil War).

Since Christmas is my favorite holiday, it won the month-or-less-apart holiday battle.

I love the lights, the decorations, the music. I love the ham we serve because I love pork more than turkey. I just love the December holiday season for any and all reasons. And I love it so much that I want to extend it.

A few years ago I finally wore down convinced the hubby to decorate for Christmas in early November. Like the first weekend after Halloween.

It works for us. And I've discovered that turkey and dressing taste exactly the same with our tree up and mantel decorated.

So ho, ho, ho and happy holidays to us all regardless of which ones we celebrate and how we choose to do so!

// <![CDATA[ // <![CDATA[ // &lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ // &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;![CDATA[ (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;amp;gt; // ]]&amp;gt; // ]]&gt; // ]]> // ]]>

from Tax News By Christopher http://www.dontmesswithtaxes.com/2017/11/beware-year-end-tax-and-quick-cash-scams-1.html

0 notes