200 followers oh wow okay *deep breaths* wow !! thank you all so damn much for following me, reblogging me, liking me, etc, etc !! y’all are the REAL MVPS!!this is a bias list, but that doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate all of you. 200 seems so little, i know some of you are like, ‘’ um……. ok…… ‘’ but i just want everyone who follows me/i follow, know that their amazing writing doesn’t go unnoticed.
I read on your other blog that Flubber is part blaster What does that make blasters in his timeline, and does that make Sans & Papyrus blasters to?
Flubber’s their adopted dad, so nah they’re just average skeletons
blasters in this verse are skeletal monsters known for explosive magic and have distinct features like their sharp teef and unhinging mandible-like jaws. The type of skeleton can range from quadrupedal mammalian to bipedal humanoid, and Flubber is a mix of a werehound blaster and average humanoid skeleton(obviously leaning more toward the latter).
average skeletons are just that with no ‘special’ magic, but blasters are drawn to them like imprinted ducklings and can be commanded by their magic. “purebreed” Blasters are rare to come by at this point, though.
It kinda sucks having to be bullied through a foreign school all your life just to learn the language and culture as much as the natives know, speak it pretty much unwillingly throughout your entire life, find out you’re pretty good at it despite not actually living in that foreign country at all, try to make a job out of it only to find out that the job market you might want to join may not even be stable enough to pay your bills for a month.
The things you are passionate about are rejected and scoffed at, adults telling you that you can never do those things and don’t even give you a chance to try.
So you study a major that you are kind of interested in with hopes of it becoming a career, but all the internships reject you because you have no experience (no shit????????what????????????), so you just study to graduate with a degree and get a job, but nobody wants you for any available position because all of the skills you’ve honed all those years are useless to them.
20+ years of studying and trying your best to exist, all for naught.
And people tell you not to be bitter, you should look at the positives in life, you should stop being sad.
My tumblr mom @scones-and-texting-and-murder had a big important birthday this week! So she gets a big important fic in response! YAY!!! (I hope you had a fantastic day and I love you lots. Thank you for all that you do.)
Dean wanders back upstairs around 2pm, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag as he follows the sound of voices floating gently down the corridor. The Impala is in near tip-top shape again after their daring rescue mission - Dean’s ironed out all of the kinks and replaced the parts that he couldn’t salvage on his own. Now, officially, every member of the Winchester family is safe and sound at home.
Sam’s yammering with Jody about a possible case on a Skype call that’s mostly dissolved into a playful battle of wits, Mom is doodling in the margins of a blank journal at the other end of the table…
And Castiel is right where he said he’d be when Dean went to bed last night: reclined in an arm chair, clicking away on his tablet.
Something that had been coiled tight and anxious in the pit of him unravels, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief. He saunters over and twists the rag around tight in his hands.
“Hey,” he says, totally casual. “Whatcha doin’?”
Castiel looks up at him and smiles a little. He’s got the same light in his eyes now that he had when he first found Dean alive at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m playing Claire in Words with Friends. She’s ahead by 53 points.”
Dean beams. “Atta girl. You been playing all day? Did you guys eat?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I helped Sam change his bandages this morning while you were in the garage.” Dean is about to ask, but Castiel beats him to it with, “Everything looks fine. He’s almost completely healed.”
Dean nods. “Thanks, man. I know you’re still kind of hurting, so I appreciate you using what little grace you’ve got to spare on Sam.”
With a shrug, Castiel readjusts his position in the chair. He winces when he twinges his neck right at the place where Ms. Watt knocked him with her brass knuckles. “Sam’s injuries were severe. I was happy to do it,” he dismisses.
Dean nods again. “Great. Well. No news is good news, right?”
He reaches forward to clap Cas on the shoulder and walk away, but Castiel tilts his head before he can get there. “Actually, there was something in my email this morning.”
Dean reels. “Since when do you have email?” he demands. “What is it, email@example.com?”
Cas ignores him. “We’ve been invited to a wedding.”