a lil grump and sunshine
Sarah had never seen anything more beautiful.
She felt tears prickling at her eyes as she observed the canvas before her, Whistler’s Nocturne: Blue and Gold, on temporary loan from the Tate. She had managed to weasel her way into the exhibition a few days before it opened to the public. Just as expected, the piece took her breath away.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” someone asked to her right.
Sarah blinked, the voice pulling her back into reality, and she turned to see who had spoken to her. It was a woman, almost her height, with golden-brown hair that fell to her shoulders in soft waves. The woman was gorgeous, and her smile was wide and bright. Her eyes twinkled in the soft lighting from above. Her nametag read: Bela Talbot, Curatorial Assistant, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Sarah smiled.
“It’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted to see it I just…never got around to it,” she said with a smile.
The woman smiled at her and extended a hand. “Bela Talbot,” she said in a clipped, British accent.
This is perfect 😭💙
(I’m not back yet, I just didn’t get to post this earlier! I’ll still be back tomorrow after I’ve seen the episode!
Word Count: 1300
Warnings: This is a timestamp for For the Last Time. While it is standalone, you may want to have read that first.
Written For: @notfunnydean′s 2019 SPN Advent Calendar
Dean stood in front of the mirror and rechecked himself for the third time. Ellen and Bobby were having their big annual Christmas Eve party, and while it wasn’t a big fancy affair - Dean was wearing a flannel over a Metallica shirt with a pair of jeans after all - this year was different.
“Dean!” The voice that sent a warm thrill down Dean’s spine called through the door. “Are you done in there? We have to leave if we’re going to be on time.”
Dean pushed himself away from the sink and crossed to the bathroom door. He took a deep breath and opened the door. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be.”
“Dean,” Ash smiled and looked him up and down. “You look great, babe.” Ash winked at Dean and nodded his head towards the door. “I already called mom; she doesn’t need us to pick up anything; she wants us home.”
“I thought this was home?” Dean wrapped his arms around Ash’s waist and pulled him in for a peck on the cheek. “Sorry, wanted to steal one before we headed out, and I can’t do this while we’re out and about.”
Ash grabbed Dean’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, holding Dean in place as he pressed their lips together. Dean melted against Ash and hummed a sigh of contentment. “Then kiss me right, Dean.” He took a few steps backward, pulling Dean with him. “Home is wherever you are, Dean. I learned that a long time ago.”
“Just a little rain?” Dean tilted his head and smiled apologetically. He went in for another kiss, which Ash dodged. “One more? For the road?”
“Sooner we get to mom’s, the sooner we can come home. And I’ll give you your gift.” Ash smirked. “Besides, rumor has it Bobby made bourbon bacon.”
“Then why are we still here?” Dean smacked Ash’s ass and bolted to the door, Ash rolling his eyes and laughing behind him.
Sorry to bother you...if you're still doing emojis... could you maybe do Claire UE? (Maybe when she met Kaia?)
Jo/Charlie + "some dude with a megaphone is spewing homophopic crap outside the cafeteria and we’re both protesting him because the college is adamnant about his freedom of speech rights, make out with me to piss him off?"
“Oh for freak’s sake!” snapped Charlie as she and Jo neared the café. “This is the third time this month!”
Jo followed her gaze and groaned; sure enough, the usually crowded dining area outside The Daily Grind was largely empty, except for an older, bearded man in an all-white suit whose booming, bigoted words echoed through the courtyard in an overzealous Southern drawl: “LET THOSE WHO ENGAGE IN HOMOSEXUAL ACTS REPENT, THAT THEY MAY KNOW THE PATH TO RIGHTEOUSNESS—”
Jo felt her jaw start to ache and realized she was clenching her teeth. It was bad enough that the university permitted this sort of homophobic garbage on campus; that said garbage chose to set up shop in front of the café directly across from the Department of Women, Gender, and Sexuality only added insult to injury.
(Add to that insult the fact that Jo had been asking herself all sorts of very personal, private questions related to women, gender, and sexuality over the past several months, many of which involved romantic feelings for her openly lesbian best friend, and, well, suffice to say that she had a few answering opinions that she wouldn’t mind screaming into a megaphone right about now…)
“Jo, hey.” Charlie’s voice interrupted her thoughts at the same time she felt a gentle touch on her wrist; she turned and saw that Charlie was giving her a worried look. “You okay?”
Jo sighed and nodded. “Yeah, sorry, just—” she jerked her head in the direction of the man as she and Charlie continued toward the café, “I wish he’d fuck off. People…We shouldn’t have to put up with that crap on campus. Or anywhere, for that matter.” She paused, chewing her bottom lip; then, feeling that if she didn’t continue, the man in the white suit would win, looked Charlie dead in the eye and added, “You can’t help who you fall in love with, you know?”
Charlie stared at her, lips parting in apparent surprise. Jo swallowed, and if part of her felt her face grow warm as she wondered just what the hell she was playing at, going for broke like this, another, more reckless part of her was about two minutes past the point of caring. She licked her lips and repeated, somewhat nervously, “You know?”
A beat of silence, and then Charlie smiled, hand shifting down from Jo’s wrist to tentatively cup her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh, I know.”
Jo let out a shaky breath and smiled back. She squeezed Charlie’s hand and turned to face her more fully—
“YOU THERE, YOUNG LADIES: REPENT! ASK THE LORD FOR FORGIVENESS AND BE ABSOLVED OF YOUR SINS!”
“Oh for crying out—” Charlie turned and glared at the man in the white suit. “BITE ME, YOU KENTUCKY-FRIED SMEGHEAD!” she yelled, flipping him off before turning back to Jo with a grin. “So um, where were we?”
Jo laughed. The man in the white suit could go to hell and stay there; this felt good, it felt right. “First-kiss-dash-piss-off-a-homophobe?”
“Works for me,” said Charlie, before pulling her into a slow, long-overdue kiss.