ART REC: pretty shotgunning Sam/Dean

Just a quick rec - go look at the pretty by Vongue.
Sam/Dean, shotgunning, bike, leather jacket. Hot.

December Days: "a happy, cozy memory from your childhood"

applegeuse said "Share a happy, cozy memory from your childhood". Here are two. Hope you like, bb :-)
This is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here.
There were some cool things about my family, growing up, but it was usually more about adventure or fun than it was about comfort and safety. I do have some cozy memories though.



I remember one day on my way back from school I got soaked in rain, I remember the white sleeves of my cloth coat being wet, and my hands being red from the cold. I didn't think much of it, but when I got home, my mom got me to get dry and bundle up in her robe, and have some soup - it was her special soup - mushroom soup made from powder with milk instead of some of water. It was this unexpected bit of care I felt weird about, and but it was nice, too.

I remember going to bed, around the same time period, I was around 7 - I had footie pajamas, which I adored, all cozy and nice inside. My heavy winter blanket was cool at first touch and very smooth, which I loved. One side of it was pink and the other blue, and it was a little shiny. My mattress had bunnies on it, and when the Disney sheets were clean and not used by my siblings, it was particularly wonderful. My mom had also gotten me to put stickers on my bed - I remember I had a few large fairies with flowers, that were the thick kind of stickers, my favorite. And I had promotional stickers given to anyone who parked at a local parking lot, which were shaped like huge red hears and had the name of the place, that I liked to visit.

I'd take a shower, and sometimes I got to go to bed with wet hair, but sometimes I had to dry my hair at least a little bit – which I I didn't like. It was fun for the "wee, wind in my face!" moment, but then it got boring and long, and the heat of the hair dryer hurt when it was too much. When I was ready for bed, my mother's husband would pick me up and bounce me into the bed from above – one of the funnest things ever IMO at the time - and my mother would tuck me in all cozy, and one of them would usually read me a good night story. I felt clean and loved and bundles up and cared for :-)

I tried to remember what stories we read at the time, and I don't, but I did remember that at six it was Doctor Dolittle, and that when I was sick I'd snagged the book and continued reading it myself - first "real" book I read part of myself :) I apologized to my mother's husband for continuing without him, thinking it might hurt his feelings, but that we'd continue from where we'd stopped together. He didn't want to (I thought he'd care about the plot too!), though he didn't seem bothered that I'd read on, and a short while after that I got a surprise - my first book - that I'd read a million times over the years - about a girl who found a fairy who went looking for adventure outside of her storybook.