Lights in the Sky

Wincest Writing Challenge: (June) | @ilostmyshoe-79​ vs. @wetsammywinchester

Prompt: Fireflies

Pairing (s): Wincest, Dean/Sam

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Snapshots of Sam and Dean’s life together.

Tags/Triggers: none (I wrote something without smut. what???)


Dean glances across the small yard. “Yeah, Sammy?”

“Look! Lights?” Sam points a child-chubby finger into the air. His tiny arm is silhouetted against the darkening sky, and Dean squints into that weird time of dusk when things are visible until he looks right at them. They seem to disappear into the night when he looks too hard.

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@anghraine suggested 7, 13, or 18 from the kiss prompt meme.

What that ended up inspiring was a slightly strange hybrid of #7 (laughing kiss) and #13 (a kiss we Cassian had to wait for).

Cassian has an infuriating habit of touching his mouth when he’s deep in thought. It might help his concentration, but it does nothing for Jyn’s.

He’s doing it right now while he sits at the foot of his bed, leaning against the wall and reading the latest batch of intelligence analyses on his datapad. Jyn is sprawled full-length across the mattress, trying to review her squad’s mission report for approval. But she loses her place in the document every few seconds because she can’t stop looking over at what Cassian’s hands are doing.

She watches his index finger bump absently over the notch in his upper lip, flattening it out. Then he props his elbow on his knee and rests his thumb against his bottom lip, denting its fullness and pressing it into his teeth. The faint downward arc at the corners of his mouth deepens.

Enough. Jyn drops her datapad to the floor and shuffles across the creaking bunk on her knees.


“Hmmm?” He looks up, distracted. When he sees how close she is, the curve of his mouth reverses, forming a smile instead.

“I’m done with my report. I want a kiss.”

“No, you’re not,” he contradicts her, though the smile on his face only brightens. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She reaches for his right hand, tugging it toward her. “I’m not lying about wanting a kiss.”

She runs her thumb across the ridge of his scarred knuckles before she lifts his hand to her mouth and follows the same path with her lips, gently sealing them over each knurl of bone. Her mouth drifts across the back of his hand to the blunt point where his wristbone stretches the skin taut.

“Then kiss me.” His voice is low, not quite an order but definitely more than a plea.

Jyn can’t resist the urge to tease him a little. She looks up, grinning against the skin of his wrist. “What do you think I’m doing?” The crisp hair on his arm ruffles with goosebumps when she breathes out over it.

Turning his hand over, she pulls his arm closer so that she can trail her tongue along the raised line of the tendon running down his forearm to his wrist. She brushes her lips over the fleshy pad at the base of his thumb, licks a suggestive circle in the centre of his palm. His hand twitches in hers. She brings the tip of his thumb to her mouth, parting her lips around it and sucking delicately, just enough to wet the skin. She scrapes her teeth along the underside as she pulls it out of her mouth, dragging it over her bottom lip.

Cassian’s breath is faster, his eyes look darker. “Kiss me,” he repeats, his voice a little hoarse.
She kisses the tip of his index finger. “Don’t rush me.”

She repeats the process slowly with every finger of Cassian’s right hand, drawing them into her mouth and curling her tongue around them. By the time she gets to his little finger, his eyes are shut and he’s tilted closer, unconsciously canting toward her. She puts his hand down on her leg and his fingers clench on the muscle of her thigh. Reaching up, she cups his face in both hands and slides her fingers into his hair. Cassian sighs and his mouth parts as she leans in toward him.
At the last moment, when she can feel his breath on her lips, she pulls aside—kisses his jaw up to his ear, across his cheek to the soft creases at the corner of his eye and over his brow. Cassian groans, trying to turn his head and reach her lips, but she twists away, laughing.

Then he lunges, or maybe just topples forward, and she’s pinned beneath his warm weight, though he’s careful not to crush her. Still laughing, she squirms under him as he presses his lips to her throat and has his revenge.

I can read lips sorta.

Now im not the best at lip reading but im a little decent
so i wanna try to read their lips to see if i can decipher anything.

1st bleep out: I’m here with ____ska now for the moment im gonna leave that blank but i think the first letter is a D but i you can’t tell because mark is facing away from the camera but the pause before the bleep seems like a D?

2nd bleep out: Phil: I wore my ___ shirt. I think what he’s saying is ‘evil’  that and the shirt is dark and red, no distinct image, it has an ominous vibe so I’m gonna say that Phil said ‘evil’

Thing to note when Dan is on green screen it looks like he’s mimicing pressing his hands against something and wants to make sure he gets it in frame. Something like glass or a screen. Keep this in mind.

3rd bleep: it involves some killer___ I can say we’ve never been in a collab with killer ___
I can’t make this one out. Shots? Shit? Sharks? something that begins with sh

4th bleep: sounds like we’re gonna be in a montage of ____
again this is hard to make out but I think it’s ‘superheroes’ I can see the s and the p shape and then it ends on like an open e

2nd note: Dan saying ‘we’re all wearing black’

My conclusion: Something to do with one of the ego’s due to ‘superheros’ maybe dark or ‘evil’ versions of the youtubers being trapped behind something? That and it’s been a while since we’ve seen another ego video. But does that make sense for a collab? I’m not sure.

Draw your own conclusions and share them with me if you can.

Castiel wakes up and blindly moves his hand looking for the warm of Dean’s body but he is alone, he rubs his eyes before stealing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, clearly they need to go shopping new clothes for him, even if Cas doesn’t mind wearing Dean’s ones. Despite the closed door Cas can hear the muffled sounds of Dean moving around the bunker and the music pouring out from a radio. Cas gets out and starts walking towards the kitchen, a heavenly smell welcomes him and he sees Dean  making breakfast while singing and moving his hips to the beat of a song he can’t recognize. Cas stays quietly at the door watching Dean, thinking how lucky he is for having someone as special as Dean by his side.
“ Now I got you in my space, I won’t let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace, I’m latching onto you” Cas smiles. “ If you are gonna stand there without doing anything you could help me with these” Dean turns around with a big smile on his face but Cas simply ignores him getting closer to the hunter to put his arms around him and to hide his face against his back.“ You are lucky you are so handsome because I can’t stay mad at you” Dean laughs and Cas answers kissing the skin he can reach, his hands wandering in Dean’s chest.
I’m so encapture, got me wrapped up in your touch.
With a quick movement Dean turns the stove off and in a blink Cas is pressed against the fridge, Dean’s lips against his.
Feel so enamored, hold me tight within your clutch.
“ Good morning to you too” Cas laughs breathless, he tangles his fingers in Dean’s hair as they kiss again.
How do you do it, you got me losing every breath.
Dean starts moving them slowly towards the table, helping Cas to climb and puting his legs around his waist. Cas is the one who starts a new kiss, placing one hand in the back of Dean’s neck and the other over his chest.
What did you give me to make my heart beat out of my chest.

Suddenly the song on the radio is replaced by something slower and Dean, despite Cas’ complains, moves away from the table offering a hand to Cas, who takes it trying really hard not to laugh because of the sudden change of Dean’s mood.
I’m a shepherd for you and I’ll guide you through .Let me be your everlasting light.
Dean’s arms wrap around Cas and they move slowly, their foreheads touching, their breaths mixing.
In me you can confide when no one’s by your side. Let me be your everlasting light.
Their gazes meet and Cas smiles softly, sometimes he just can’t believe he is with Dean, after years of being in love with him, now he is human but he doesn’t mind, not as long as he can have Dean with him.
Loneliness is over, dark days are through. Let me be your everlasting light.
“ I love you”.

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sometimes harry puts his hands on his hips

alternatively titled: The Reason I Don’t Sleep At Night

look at this u can see his nipple how iconic

wow baby! pop ya hip! 

How To Flirt With Older Men: a guide by Harry Styles

his lil face he’s so cute what a little enraged duckling

look at his tummy and nipples fhkjhffncmsne 

s a s s 

remember 1d day lol he was so done 

he rly looks like a frog here but he’s cute (even his hand looks similar to  frogs? bye)

i honestly dont even know what this is but he’s working the duck lips and that stance?? only the Best Models can master

iconic amazing spectacular wonderful beautiful 

this isnt even in HD but you can tell he’s doing his Creepy Frog Stare and it’s so adorable i love him

anyways this post is really short but i hope u enjoyed this bc look at him he knows what he’s doing 


└ All hands aboard for a fuller full-of-OTP-ai version of that short snippet we had from AYH’s opening video.

Bonus just cos it’s OTP:

Cr: Documentary Film ~ Are You Happy ~

unforgivable crimes committed by damon albarn on june 10th
  • nearly climbing over the fence and into the crowd as security keeps a hold on the back of his shirt and looks vaguely worried
  • “who fell asleep on the beach this afternoon? i did. i was like aw, fuck”
  • attempting to dance on multiple occasions
  • physically grabbing the camera and pulling it towards a 2D cosplayer only to then make two big thumbs up at it
  • “when we put this album out we had been away for, uh, quite a while”
  • hugging absolutely everyone on stage at some point
  • “jamie hewlett will draw all of you an individual picture later”
  • “we’ve got a couple more songs. they’re pretty rubbish though”
    (plays fucking feel good inc)
  • “i shall now play my melodica. hinting at a motif”
    (plays fucking clint eastwood)
  • singing??? more than once??? he sang??? how dare he???

“Angels are immortal,” Cas rolls his eyes at Dean when the hunter points to an ad for a retirement home. But still, Cas buys the magazine for the hunter, anyway, liking the way it made him smile.

“Angels don’t need food,” Cas says with a straight face, but when Dean offers it, he takes a bite of the hunter’s pie, anyway, every time.

“Angels can just fly,” Cas reminds Dean when the hunter holds open the car door for him. But, with one look, Cas slides into the passenger’s seat of the impala without another word.

“Angels don’t need to breathe,” Cas says after Dean’s eyes go wide when the angel stays under the water too long. And, when Dean still looks concerned, Cas grabs the hunter’s hand and places it on his own chest forcing the air in and out to reassure him.

“Angels don’t need sleep,” Cas whispers when Dean covers the angel with a blanket after they watch a movie on the couch. But he quiets very quickly when he realizes the blanket is for both of them and lets Dean fall asleep on him instead.

“Angels can feel longing,” Cas says when he flies to Dean’s room and finds him wiping away the tears. And, instead, he replaces the hunter’s hand with his, sweeping away the tracks with gentle fingers.

“Angels can heal,” Cas says, this time pleading to an unseen God when Dean’s insides are on his shirt, his eyes twisted in pain until the angel’s hands touch the side of his cheeks.

“Angels can fall in love,” Cas declares so quietly and gently, when he’s holding Dean, finally healed, inside the crook of his arms, looking into green eyes and counting freckles like they’re flecks of gold he’d protect at all cost.

So, Louis has some new tatts..

There’s a pretty solid ”L” on his hand.

And it looks like there’s a new tattoo on the inside of his arm - something like a balloon shape and you can see the string cascading down, near the dagger. 

Also, what looks to be a slanted “i” on the side of the balloon – similar to the icon you see on websites which means stands for “information.” You can see the “i” very clearly.

The greatest joke in cinema history will always be that one scene in Robots where Fender says “I know this town like the back of my hand.“ Then he looks at the back of his hand and says “Oh hey that’s new” before getting knocked into the fucking sky with a giant hammer.

queerbafakado replied to your postsentai genji is human, right? ?

I assumed he was cyborg and now i have to rethink everything

once i got this skin, i had to try it out immediately and what i noticed is that his hands look like his actual fleshy hands, he’s just wearing gloves

his cyborg fingers look different, they’re slightly thinner at the tips and they have these metal joints or whatever

so yeah, he is most likely human wearing a costume and not a cyborg with another modification of his body. i just feel dumb it took me so long to realize this :/


Kenneth Branagh explains Poirot’s moustache in Murder on the Orient Express

“I spent months getting that moustache right, that massive piece of face furniture.”
Q: “Was it real?”
“I can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you. *smiles* It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, I did try growing one but Agatha Christie says that Poirot has the most magnificent moustaches in England. So, we created this kind of double-layer twirly moustaches which in itself took so much taking care of, that we got really well ahead of the game with that one, same with the accent.”

anonymous asked:

Ok but you guys comparing how big your hands are on your first date and then he ends up holding your hand and kissing it to test the waters before kiss you

“So small!” 

He sounds positively appalled but he’s smiling delightedly as he looks at where your hand is with his stretched wide in comparison.

“It’s not that small!” 

You laugh softly and stretch your fingers out as wide as they’ll go, but their spread is still dwarfed by his. Any size hand would look small next to his, though, you think. He’d effortlessly juggled his wallet, car keys, and two bottles of water before (one for him and one for you, “F’you want it…”), and that’s no small feat. 

“Very small,” he shakes his head, but he’s speaking quietly and warmly. “C’mere, lookit.” 

Your stomach flips a bit when he grabs your hands gently and picks them up. His thumbs run along the backs of your knuckles before he turns them over in the same fashion and spreads his palm out against yours. The length of your fingers are no match for his, and you lean against his hands momentarily. “See?” he asks, still smiling slightly. “Tiny little things they are.”

You pout a bit but the corner of your mouth is still lifted in the faintest of smirks. Neither one of you makes a move to break the contact, and you absorb the warm feeling of his skin against yours. His hands are strong, and the very pads of his fingers, which you’ve crept up to touch, are slightly calloused from the guitar, but not in a way that feels unpleasant. Suddenly, his fingers slip between yours and he closes them gently around your hands and he’s got a warm look in his eyes as if to ask is this ok?

He must find all the confirmation he needs somewhere, because he pulses his grip a bit before lifting your locked hands and passing the softest of kisses over your knuckles. He does it on one hand and then the other and you’ve got that fluttery feeling in your stomach that’s all excitement and a little bit of nerves, and he bites his lip just a little bit before he tilts his head and ducks in quickly to share that first kiss. The pressure is soft at first, but when he readjusts a bit he pushes more firmly. You sigh gently, that fluttery feeling increased tenfold, and you unwind your fingers from his only to wrap them around his neck, and those big ol’ hands of his press against your back to draw you in and keep you close.



“Where’s the body?” 

His tone was as harsh as his entrance.  

Claire stopped, and faced her intruder.  “And you are?” she asked, hands on hips.

James paused.  He gave a ghost of a smile.  “Sorry.  I’m Detective Sergeant James Fraser,” he stepped forward to shake her hand. “And a body was removed from a crime scene before I got there. So, I’m a wee bit fashed. Didna mean to be so rude.”

Claire was impressed.  She didn’t know too many officers who admitted to being frazzled.  They were always about control, but this one looked a bit sheepish. She took his hand.  It was warm, firm, and swallowed her own.  She looked into his face, and was met with a pair of deep blue eyes.  Unwavering. Honest eyes.  

Something danced on the edge of her mind.  

“The body is here,” Claire said, finally letting go.  “I haven’t started yet.  I need to prepare first.”

James nodded.  The bones of her hand were delicate.  Hard to imagine this waif of a woman tearing through dead people.  

“Can I see him?  I mean, while you do that.”  James asked.  

Claire considered for a moment.  “No.  You can stay if you like, and watch the autopsy, but no.  I won’t have evidence contaminated.”

“Aye,” James said.  “I’ll wait.”

Claire prepared the table, gathered her necessary instruments on a tray, gowned herself, and then went for the body.  When she was ready she adjusted her microphone, and got to work. 

She was thorough, James could see that.  She dictated everything, cataloged each piece of clothing, noted every scar, birthmark, and tattoo.  He watched her work.  Steadily.  Carefully.  Confidently.  Her voice was strong, competent, and quite easy to listen to.  She captured his attention, in more ways than one. Curls riotous around her head, which sometimes hid her face.  Her whisky coloured eyes never missed a thing.  She stirred him in ways a female hadn’t in a long while, which was why he found himself wondering what she looked like under that voluminous lab coat.  

She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  

And the most interesting.  

Because at one point he could have sworn he’d seen her close her eyes and shake her head, as if something was buzzing around inside her brain. When she opened her eyes, she made a quick notation on a legal pad that sat off to the side, but did not verbalize it.  An off-the-record note.

He maneuvered his body slowly so as not to arouse suspicion.  Taking his time, he crept around the table to see the paper. 

Her handwriting was difficult to make out. It looked like a poison, followed by what might have been Stranger.   

James stared at Claire.  A tiny shiver ran down his spine.  Now how on earth would she know that? 

James sat at his desk.  It was late.  Very late.  He was looking over the M.E.’s notes.  Claire’s notes.  

Tapping the fingers of his right hand, he kept staring at the last line in the report.

“Patient found to have excess saliva build up, showing signs of a breakdown of the muscle tissue, kidney failure, excess toxins in the bloodstream, as well as muscle tissue byproducts in the blood, signs of respiratory failure.  Cause of death:  poison.”

James couldn’t stop thinking about her momentary lapse, and the note on her legal pad. A note she made before cutting the body open.

It’s like she “saw” it, before she saw it.

That ignited his superstitious Scottish mind.  It brought to mind the old Gaelic words parents used to scare little kids into following rules.  Words like sìthiche, Bana-bhuidseach.  He didn’t believe in fairies, or witches, but he wasn’t going to renounce them outright either.  His culture was still his culture, after all.

But the woman intrigued him. In many, many ways.  

Claire lay in her bed thinking about her first autopsy at Scotland Yard.  She’d been careful in her notes, and in her dictation.  She knew what to look for, and made sure to find the physical symptoms to support her knowledge.  

Her gift was a blessing and a curse.

She’d never meant to have an audience, but she thought she’d hid it well.  It was a small vision, and for that she was grateful.  The bigger ones sometimes caused her to faint.  The Detective had been serious, quiet.  He didn’t ask questions, or interrupt her work.  

But he was a distraction.  A damn big one.  With the most extraordinary hair, all copper, and gold.  Intelligence poured from those piercing blue eyes.  

She closed her eyes and saw him again, watching her.  Always watching her.    

Did he know?  Did he see?

He couldn’t have.  It was brief.  Fleeting.  

But the man intrigued her.  In many, many ways.