at least he has a coat

5 Reason’s Why Supernatural is the Gayest Show on Television (That’s Still Stuck in the Closet)

To start with, I’m not delusional.  I’m fully aware that the studio and execs have settled into a comfortable pattern with Supernatural, and especially considering it’s heavily mixed demographic (interestingly, it was ranked a favorite among republicans and democrats in 2016) they’re unlikely to rock the ship with a canonically queer relationship between two of it’s main characters.  

However, it’s important to understand exactly how much queerness is bubbling beneath the thick surface layer of “no homo:”  from the orgies of male-on-male eyesex to the inspiration for most of its main characters, Supernatural is queer to its very core. 

Here are five (blaring but stubbornly unacknowledged) reasons why:


1.  Dean’s gratuitously bisexual inspiration. 

Whenever someone claims a queer interpretation of Dean is baseless, I’m always happy to direct them straight to his flamingly bisexual source:  Dean Moriarty, his namesake and direct inspiration, a la the novel On the Road.  

Admittedly, I read On the Road and didn’t particularly enjoy it, as I found it to be a somewhat masturbatory reassertion of masculinity for its narrator, Sal Paradise.  Sal idolizes and fixates the charismatic Dean and his promiscuous lifestyle, openly having sex with and impregnating multiple women, and is all around a heterosexual power figure…right up until the point at which Dean propositions a male prostitute.  

Though he’s never shown doing anything gratuitous with male characters (since the book was published in the 1960s, it wouldn’t have been legal to) it’s clear that Dean is very much bisexual, not ashamed of it, and in terms of personality, very similar to Dean.  There are a few key differences (Dean Moriarty, for example, legitimately gives zero fucks about anything, whereas Dean Winchester is secretly a little ball of anxiety with the weight of the world on his shoulders) but it’s clear where Eric Kripke got his inspiration from.

Moreover, Dean Moriarty was in turn based off of the real life bisexual counterculturist Neal Cassady, who among other things had a twenty-year sexual relationship with a male poet.  Here, he is pictured in a Denver mugshot: 

So next time someone tells you the homoerotic subtext of Supernatural exists only in the imagination of rabid fangirls, remember that Dean is the direct descendant of two ragingly bisexual icons.

2.  Castiel (or at least his wardrobe) was also based off of a bisexual character.

For a show so aggressively devoted to a “no homo” interpretation, it has a real propensity to drawing inspiration from queer characters:  everyone’s favorite baby in a trench coat, for example, was modeled after the demon-busting John Constantine from the Hellblazer comics.  Yup, another bisexual.   

Though in true assbutt fashion, his love of men is censored in movie and TV adaptions, Constantine unabashedly swings both ways in paper form – a.k.a. where Kripke found inspiration for Castiel’s look.  Here, we see him platonically receiving a man-hug from one of his bros:

So I’m not saying the fact that two out of three main characters are modeled after canonically queer figures could have anything to do with Supernatural’s gratuitous queer subtext, but y’know.  It might.

3.  Cas himself is sexually complex (and literally cannot be straight.) 

Dean has made reference to the fact that he “doesn’t swing that way” (ironically, both of which times he was literally in the midst of blatantly flirting with men.)  

Cas, however, has no such reservations:  he’s never indicated, vocally or otherwise, a preference towards either gender, so much as outright declaring that he doesn’t give a damn.  

He reacts to male and female flirtation much the same way:  just try and tell me his suspicious glower and Mick wasn’t similar to Mandy the waitress (and try and tell me they both weren’t acting like they’d like to eat him for dinner.)

Moreover, the only time we’ve seen him ever achieve some kind of intimacy with female characters is when they’re literally throwing themselves at him.  Hey, he’s an aesthetically pleasing fellow – or rather, an aesthetically pleasing something.  

Which brings me to my next point that he isn’t really a fellow at all:  Cas not only gives zero fucks about sexual orientation, he also gives zero fucks about gender.  Sure, he’ll spend seven years in the same ill-fitting trench coat, but he’ll also rock a petticoat like nobody’s business.

I’ve discovered that the writer for “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets,” Steve Yockey, is a gay man, which honestly makes it all the more perfect:  not only does it establish the Orlando-esque flexibility (or nonexistence) of Cas’s gender, but it eliminates the possibility of his straightness.  

And I want Destiel to be canon as much as anybody, but am I opposed to Cas being a genderfluid lesbian?  No.  No, I am not.    

4.  Dean can textually be interpreted as bisexual (and probably should be.)

For anyone who questions whether Dean not being straight as an arrow, I’m happy to point out some very canon things that happened on the show:

(Examples courtesy of @some-people-call-it-tragic!)

And yes, when feeling threatened, he’s professed not to swing that way.  But you know how many queer people I know who have at one point felt compelled to lie about our sexual orientation?  Every single one.  And I live in the bluest of blue states – Dean was raised in Bible Belt America and spends most of his time in the Southwest.  Not to mention the fact that he was raised during the heat of the AIDS academic.

In other words, he has every logical reason to be wary at the prospect of coming out of the closet, or even acknowledging same sex attraction at all.

Moreover it’s been canonically established that Dean has a habit of lying about himself to protect his image of masculinity:  according to Dean, he doesn’t do shorts, chick flicks, cucumber water, skinny jeans and sunglasses, and Taylor Swift music.  You know how many of those things he loves?  All of them

Finally, not every member of the cast or crew might agree (though I know for a fact that some of them do) but their interpretations do not effect textuality.  And Dean can textually be interpreted as bisexual.  

5.  Dean and Cas make a better couple than any of their love interests.

I’m going to state something I feel is obvious:  Cas and Dean have more buildup, tension, chemistry, emotional connection, and romantic history than literally any of their other interests.  

Take Lisa, for example:  she’s Dean’s longest lasting introduced as female partner, and she’s introduced as the “bendiest weekend of his life.”  

Furthermore, I’d argue that sexual attraction notwithstanding, Dean was never romantically in love with Lisa.  To him, she epitomizes his desire for a mother figure, a home, and his lost childhood, as is best demonstrated in his fantasy from “Dream a Little Dream of Me:”  Lisa isn’t a seductive or romantic figure here – she’s a maternal one. 

Though since Dean has never had a long lasting relationship (or, to my belief, been completely in love with a girl) it’s easy to see how he’d misinterpret these feelings as romantic love. 

Then we have Cas, who’s introduced by pulling Dean from the depths of hell, who makes most one-on-one scenes with Dean look like a soft core porno, and who recently (canonically!) declared his love for Dean.  

I don’t dislike Lisa, but it’s easy to see which of the two relationships is more three-dimensional, more original, and more worthy of screentime.

listen, i love jack ‘it’s only minus ten out i can wear shorts out’ zimmermann as much as everyone else but as anyone who lives in a cold place can tell you, we get VERY worried about people from warm places who clearly Do Not Understand How To Winter. 

and while bitty is very good at bundling up he clearly doesn’t know what to wear out (he wouldn’t have to wear so many layers if he had good winter clothes after all) and it is Very Upsetting to jack. so every single time bitty visits jack starting from october, jack has another piece of high quality winter clothing waiting for him, whether it be double layered mittens, wool-lined boots, or a coat that feels like duvet. 

so even though bitty still complains bitterly about the winter and (more amusedly) about jack’s wintery mother hen tendencies (”jack it’s the third of october, i don’t need woolen socks”) he’s at least warm which makes jack’s heart as toasty as bitty’s toes. 

Voltron Headcanon
  • When Lance’s little brother Enrique was born and they found out Enrique was a restless sleeper, always waking up in the middle of the night, Lance’s mom taught him a lullaby to help his brother
  • Though this was quite possibly done for the sole reason that Lance was the only member of their family who was not tone deaf, he still took his responsibility with pride
  • Years later, when he’s in space, he revives this talent
  • It starts after Shiro has disappeared and Lance, up late as well, spots Pidge wandering around aimlessly
  • But it’s her who initiates contact, asking him to sing her to sleep, like her mother used to do
  • Losing another member of her family has almost torn Pidge apart beyond repair
  • There is no hesitation in Lance’s answer
  • Singing to her continues on a nightly basis, and Lance is proud when he sees her in the morning, bright eyed and awake. Undisturded from any night time demons
  • At least Lance is useful this way
  • After a week, Pidge tells him he can stop.
  • Though Lance is glad his friend has defeated her nightmares that were keeping her awake, he can’t help but feel discarded
  • So he once again wanders aimlessly around the castle, unable to sleep himself
  • One night he discovers himself passing Keith’s door and is startled to hear fervent mumbling and constant rustling of the bed sheets
  • His friend’s face is coated in sweat, eyes twitching frantically underneath closed lids, and his body continues to toss and turn
  • Lance hastily sits on the edge of Keith’s bed, not hesitating to sing
  • The words pour out of him, filling the air with a summertime melody to wash away the thick, dark shadows of demons
  • He’s on the last verse when Keith finally settles down, a faint smile playing at his lips
  • Job complete, Lance exits but not before he hears the faint, quiet voice of Keith:
  • “Thank you, Lance”
  • This becomes a ritual between him and Keith that he never quite stops

anyway here’s the best omake in the entire series

Enough (III)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You/Baekhyun

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 3,667

Summary: You and Baekhyun have been married for two years. Somewhere during that time, things started to go wrong. Now you’re trying to leave. But can you?

Originally posted by porkdo-bi


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Enough

Happy Birthday @enoughtotemptme! Keeping the tradition alive, here is your birthday ficlet. Remember when I said not canon? Woops. Future fic/au/etc. - you know the drill. Happy birthday love! <3


When Bellamy winces for the third time in as many minutes, Clarke decides she’s had enough.

“Alright, get up.” Ignoring his protests, she rounds the fire and pulls him into a seated position, trying to shove the jacket off his shoulders. He does nothing to help, just sitting there and giving her an infuriating smirk.

“Y’know princess, if I’d known you wanted to—”

“Shut up,” she warns through gritted teeth. “You need to let me look at your arm. Right. Now.”

The smirk disappears. “Clarke, it’s a scratch—”

“A scratch that won’t let you sleep.” She glares at him, and he glares right back. After fifteen very unproductive seconds, Clarke reaches further down and digs her thumb into his forearm. Bellamy swears, loudly.

She folds her ams. “Jacket off.”

Still glaring, he shrugs his arm out, but she doesn’t miss the beads of sweat that trickle from his forehead. He thrusts his arm in her direction.

“Bellamy…” she shakes her head as she takes in the swelling. Just a scratch, indeed. Sighing, she looks at him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Wasn’t important.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. “You are important. Therefore this is important. Okay?”

He makes a soft sound; it could be a laugh, but it’s too rueful for that. When Bellamy looks up, there’s such a stark sadness on his face that Clarke almost forgets about his arm. “Why do you always do that?” He asks.

“Do what?”

“Why do you always say everything except what you actually mean?”

Taken aback, she just stares. “I…”

Bellamy shakes his head and looks off into the trees. “Nevermind.”

“No, Bellamy, I—”

“Nevermind,” he says again, still holding his arm out.

In silence, she treats the infected wound and binds it carefully, forcing herself to pay attention to the work in front of her and not his words ringing in her mind. Was she really guilty of shielding herself that much when it came to him?

I can’t lose you too.

Thank you for keeping me alive.

How special you really are.

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A Valentine's Day Tale

Was supposed to be main PTA Sanders but ended up being Prinxiety centred. Sorry.

Anyway, to the fic

—–

Flowers.

Chocolate.

Games.

Puppy.

Kitty.

Logic growled deeply as he stared at his phone, going through the list for the tenth time that week. Valentine’s Day was coming again and until that week, he had been feeling like that was his year. That he would rock the day with a wonderful present and a date that would forever stay in Morality’s head. And he would like it so much they would do it again, and again, until they started dating, and the dating lead on to copulation and then marriage, probably.

Okay, maybe Anxiety had been right when saying that was basically The Sims but… Logic knew no other way on how things could go. Besides, he didn’t even know if personas like him and Morality could even copulate. Or marry. But that was beyond the point.

Beyond the point because if he didn’t find the perfect gift in time, he would t even find out if it was possible or not.

“Forget the chocolate”

“Go with the flowers”

Logic jumped up in the air when he heard the other two speaking, Anxiety and Prince materialising next to him out of nowhere. He could only wish he knew how to do that. He was the one that least popped in in Thomas’ life and did it even less when it came to the others.

“Flowers?” Anxiety complained, raising his eyebrow and making a disgusted face. “So predictable”

“What do you suggest? You know Logic hates dogs” Prince said, hands on his waist, and Logic raised his hand to intervene, but neither of them were paying attention.

“A game, brilliant minded. A game” Anxiety complained, rolling his eyes. “We all know dad is a child when it comes to board games”

“He does not understand video games, that’s for sure” Prince agreed. “But he’s a child for everything really. Unless he’s giving a lesson”

“Oh, he gives you lessons now?” Anxiety asked, a wide smirk on his face, and Prince blushed before groaning in anger.

“You are the most perverted minded person in this household.” He growled, and then rubbed his eyes. “Why do you have to be creative in the worst way?”

“At least I’m creative. I’m not thinking about giving chocolate and flowers to my probable date on Valentine’s Day, right Logic?” The dark persona teased, still smirking. Only then Logic received the attention back on him and he sighed.

“I am not going to start a discussion with the two of you. This is the information I collected through the weeks of careful observation. There is nothing else” he said, fixing his glasses, but Anxiety rolled his eyes, annoyed.

“He needs a watch. Dad has been asking the time for all of us at least three times a day. He doesn’t have a watch. Give one to him” he said, and Logic’s eyes widened.

“How do you…”

“I pay closer attention than you think” Anxiety assured, and then shrugged. “Thank me later”

“It is a great idea” Prince agreed, and Logic smiled a bit, nodding to himself.

“Yes. Good idea” he said, biting his lip. “Now all I have to do is go out and buy the clock. Thanks!” He got up, grabbing his coat and rushing out of the door straight to the mall. “And good date!”

He was too fast to see how both sides blushed before they headed off to their own rooms.


“Prince! Anxiety!” Morality called from his room just before they could enter their own. The two personas looked at each other before walking slowly to the father’s room, getting inside to see him on the bed surrounded by paper, glue, paint, scissors and glitter. He looked up as they entered, smiling. “Hey!”

“What are you doing here?” Prince asked, a smile growing on his face. “Is this…”

“Yes. I’m making a picture book” Morality said, biting his lip. “But it’s coming harder than I thought. Could you help?”

“Are you giving that to Logic?” Anxiety asked, and the father nodded happily. “Well then you can put it in the fireplace, because he will hate it”

“Anxiety!” Prince complained, as Morality’s face fell.

“What?!” The dark persona replied. “You know I’m right. You should just buy a book about weird facts. Or any book at all. Making a picture book is a waste of time. It’s Logic. He won’t even lie saying he like it. He’s not that sensitive”

“B-but” Morality mumbled, voice breaking slightly, and Prince shushed him, shaking his head.

“Don’t listen to ruin-mood over there. He will love it! I know it. Do you need any help?” He asked, and the father sniffled, rubbing his slightly teary eyes.

“N-no. Anxiety is right. I’ll just buy a random book or whatever” he mumbled, standing up and walking inside his bathroom, leaving Prince and Anxiety alone. The royal stared at the other angrily, but Anxiety just shrugged.

“I am hurting him so he isn’t hurt by his affection”

“You’re just going up in my list, Anxiety” Prince said angrily, standing up from the bed and walking to him. “You don’t know if Logic would like it or not”

“Yes I do. I know how Logic works. He would even say he liked it, but he would lock it up in his closet and never see it again” he shrugged, walking out of the room and being followed by the royal. “Besides, that’s my duty: make sure no one embarrass themselves.”

“Your duty is making people feel bad about what they love” Prince said, coldly. Anxiety felt his chest tighten and looked at Prince angrily.

“Oh what now? That’s how I work. I can’t just be nice to everyone like you can!” He said, clearly offended and upset. “Besides, they love each other already! It’s not like they can’t just give each other a kiss and be done for”

“Damn it Anxiety, for someone that cares so much about doing everything right so there is no embarrassment involved, how can you not see that giving gifts is just as important as declaring your love for someone!” Prince said, outraged. “It’s a demonstration of how much you care about someone. Bought or handmade, expensive or cheap, good or bad, it matters not! The fact that you remembered is all that matters when the person really loves you. Obvious that Logic would prefer an encyclopaedia instead of a handmade picture book, but he would have loved it just the same. And even though you convinced Logic against the puppy or the flowers, Morality would have loved any of those just the same as a clock. You claim to know everything better than everyone because you’re scared of trying and failing, and I get it. But don’t push your fears into others. Specially those two. They deserve each other” Prince said, angrily, taking Anxiety by surprise. “Now I will try to convince Morality to make the book and you stay out of it”

As Prince left, Anxiety started to rethink what he had done, and suddenly the images came to him. The future, good and bad, in all options. The flowers, chocolate, puppy, kitten, book, encyclopaedia. And suddenly, nothing mattered anymore, because in the end, the two were always finishing up together, happier or sadder, but always in love.

‘More glitter!’ He heard Prince saying, and Morality giggles, and he sighed, walking to his room. He hated Valentine’s Day, he hated being wrong, he hated Prince being right, and he hated feeling weak like he was.

And as he entered his room, he stared at the fantasy book in his shelf, standing out from everything else, with a golden cover that shone, the present he had bough to give Prince. Now, it was no use. Prince would never want it.

He laid down on his bed and covered himself up, closing his eyes.

Sleep until the sun went away, for sure.


Prince hadn’t seen Anxiety all day, but now it was night and he was sitting on the stairs, excitedly waiting for Logic’s arrival so he could see the interactions between him and Morality. The father was waiting for the teacher on the couch, holding the handmade book and bouquet of fake flowers. He looked nervous, but happy, his feet moving to calm himself down.

Prince’s eyes widened when the door opened, and Morality jumped up, grinning widely. Then, his eyes widened as well, and Prince frowned, not being able to see Logic because of the location of the door. Morality let the bouquet and the book fall and he rushed out, bringing a soaked up Logic inside.

Only then Prince realised it was raining.

“I think I have a cold” Logic mumbled, completely soaked, and Morality shushed him, sitting him down on the couch.

“Worry not. I’ll grab some towels and make some tea” he said, taking out Logic’s tie and looking up at Prince, who in a jump rushed upstairs to Logic’s room, grabbing three towels and dry clothes before going down again.

“Here” he said, and Morality smiled, taking the clothes and towels as Logic removed his shirt and pants and was quickly wrapped around towels and dried by the father.

“What were you thinking? The time girl said it would rain in the evening” Morality said, and Logic sighed after sneezing.

“I forgot… I had to buy your present” he said, and Morality’s eyes widened. That was Prince’s cue to walk away slowly, returning to the stairs, only to realise that he wasn’t alone now. Anxiety was there as well, watching.

“Present? What present?” The father asked, and the teacher chuckled quietly.

“Your valentine present. I wanted to be your valentine, but everything went terribly wrong” he said, and then removed a case from the pants on the ground. “I saved the present, though. But the roses were destroyed”

“Oh…” Morality mumbled, taking the box and opening it. He smiled widely, taking the black clock out and giggling as he put it around his wrist. “It’s beautiful. Thank you”

“Welcome” Logic mumbled, drying his hair as Morality grabbed the book and the flowers from the floor. “What’s that?”

“Your Valentine’s Day present” he said, and Logic stared at him surprised before taking the presents in his hands and smiling shyly.

“Is this a picture book?” Logic asked, raising an eyebrow, and Morality nodded, looking at the ground. “And fake flowers?”

“Well yeah… I don’t know if you would like it but…” He started, but Logic shook his head and grinned.

“I loved it” he said, and Morality squealed contently before hugging the other tight. “Wait! I’m all wet!”

“I don’t care” the father giggled, kneeling down between Logic’s legs and grinning at him. “Will you be my valentine?”

“I already am” Logic said, rolling his eyes, and before he could react, Morality wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him hard, making Logic put his hand on the father’s waist out of instinct but quickly respond to the kiss, pulling him closer and forgetting about the fact that he was wrapped in towels while not wearing much.

Prince smiled as the two realised that, Logic blushing deeply and Morality laughing, and he then sighed romantically.

“You were right after all” anxiety muttered next to him, and Prince raised one eyebrow, looking at the persona next to him.

“Well it’s not everyday that I listen that” he said, but Anxiety just sighed, looking away. “Hey. I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to let it all out like that”

“No, you were right” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I was being an asshole, as usual. I should have just let them be”

“Oh shush it you. No time for self pity” Prince said, and then slowly took a small box from his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jason toddler” he teased, giving it to Anxiety, making his eyes widen. “I really liked that nickname”

“I see…” Anxiety muttered, taking the box and opening it slowly, before a small smile creeped up his lips. “Eyeshadow? Really Roman?”

“You never call me by my name” Prince gasped, and smirked. “Does that mean you like me now?”

“Nah” Anxiety said, and then sighed, taking out the book from behind him. “I bought something for you too”

“Is this a fantasy book?” Prince asked, eyes wide as he took the book in hands and opened it. “It’s the fantasy book…”

“Well I…” Anxiety muttered, but Prince shook his head, leaning forward and giving him a tight hug.

“I loved it. Thank you” he said, smiling widely and pulling back, only to be held by Anxiety, the dark persona holding onto his clothes. “Anxiety..?”

No more could have been said. Anxiety swallowed his pride and his fears and moved in, pressing his lips to Prince’s in a quick, chaste kiss - very unlike Morality’s - before jumping up and rushing upstairs to his room, leaving a confused, blushing prince behind.

“Geez Prince, the bell really rang in your midnight ball” Morality said, smiling from under the stairs, while Logic chuckled.

“Your carriage finally became pumpkin hun? How are you feeling?” Logic asked, and Prince stared at them confused and embarrassed.

“What just happened?” He asked, shakily, and the other two chuckled deeply.

“Your date just ran away to, let me quote, 'hide under the covers until the sun goes away’” Logic said, smiling in the most relaxed way Prince had ever seen.

“And you should go after him” Morality nodded, grinning. “Because that’s what good dates do”

“I… Well…” Prince mumbled, and then stood up. “Okay” he took a deep breath. “Good night for you two”

“Thanks!” Morality smiled.

“We will” Logic assured, smiling, and Prince smiled back, before rushing up to Anxiety’s room, knocking on the door.

“Go away Ana” Anxiety growled from inside, and Prince couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, still holding the book that was given to him.

“I don’t want to build a snowman, Ann” he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at the door handle. “It’s not locked. You don’t have a lock”

“Well then come in uninvited. We have already discussed the whole consent thing” anxiety replied, but Prince only smirked.

“I didn’t consent for the kiss you gave me” he teased, and Anxiety growled, making him giggle as he opened the door. “Really though, no harm done” he said as he entered the dark room. In the bed, there was a lump under the covers, and Prince closed the door before walking to the bed and sitting next to the lump. “Talk to me Ann”

“I’m mute, like Ariel” Anxiety mumbled, shuffling away from Prince. “Leave me alone”

“Learn sign language. I know it” Prince said, and then slowly moved one hand up to the covers, pulling them down slowly to reveal a very shaken Anxiety, blushing deeply with tears on his eyes. The royal frowned, worried, and stared at him. “Ann, why are you crying?”

“I’m not” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and destroying his make up. His voice was even for someone as upset as him. “What do you want?”

“Talk, perhaps? You did kiss me down there you know? I wasn’t expecting that” he said, smiling, but Anxiety just huffed.

“I wasn’t expecting a valentine gift either and here we are” he mumbled, and Prince sighed before laying down next to Anxiety and placing his hand on the other’s waist, over the blankets. Anxiety froze at the touch, before making himself relax. “Prince, what are you doing?”

“Well… What I should have done long ago, I guess” he said, before moving a bit closer and pressing their noses together. “Happy Valerinetine’s Day” he teased, before moving forward and kissing Anxiety, pulling him closer by his waist and wrapping the arm around him.

Anxiety took no second to answer the kiss, pressing closer and kissing back while putting his hands over Prince’s cheek, his body melting at the contact.


“Well, everything worked out in the end” Logic said, his arm around Morality’s waist as they watched them through a small crack on the door. Morality nodded, grinning, and turned to his date, who was now dressed up again in his usual attire.

“Let’s make dinner” he said, grabbing Logic’s hand and pulling him downstairs with a giggle.

Welp, Valentine’s Day for the win, he guessed.

Watching TFP again, after a long gap, one thing kinda stood out at the end of THAT scene. The whole phone call was a game changer for Molly. I doubt anyone can come back after having your deepest, most private emotions ripped out off you in that manner.

Even if Sherlock continues to maintain status quo, it wouldnt be possible for Molly to do that. She will definitely continue to help him as always, but newer walls and distance will seep in, its unavoidable. Their personal relation will be irrevocable affected, even if on a professional level things would be fine.

So pathologist on call as always, but I doubt her availability to him as a bolt hole or even general go-to person will continue.

But the smile on her face in that last montage, and along with the fact that she is hanging out at 221B (no coat, bag so she has been there for soemtime) shows a degree of personal comfort that wouldnt be there if Sherlock refuted what he said on the phone.

So yeah, I think he meant it..more from Molly’s reaction at the end than anything. And it will be a uphill task for them, coz Sherlock will surely spend most emotional stamina in getting his familial past sorted out, at least in the initial period.

But yeah, girl for sure got her guy, even if they had to literally put words in his mouth for him to realise it.

Harbor In the Tempest (3/5)

After an attack by the Lost Boys, Emma and Killian find themselves in an impossible situation. Canon divergence from 3x07.

A/N: This chapter is the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place. Please don’t kill me. Endless gratitude to @caprelloidea for letting me yell at you about this.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4272

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

AO3 | ff.net


The sun slowly crawls across the sky, passing its zenith and giving way to soft late-afternoon light. Neither Killian nor Emma really know what to do with themselves, and they fall into an odd type of silence the likes of which he’s never felt before. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, not even sitting as closely as they are, not even with the full weight of what’s happening to her hanging between them. It’s not uncomfortable but defeated, like waiting for a ship to slowly sink on the open sea.   

Every time he’s lost someone it’s happened quickly, going far beyond just Liam and Milah. Crewmen lost in battle or knocked overboard in violent tempests, first mates taken down by a knife fight in a tavern, a father gone without warning in the middle of the night. Death and loss are abrupt, sudden things for him, a simple flick of a wrist and a severed hand.

This is new. He knows what’s happening as well as she, both of them helpless to do any more than listen to the cliff up above, hoping for the sound of her parents or Regina coming through the woods overhead and frightened that it will never come. That’s new for him too, the fear crawling up his spine, an emotion that hasn’t seized him so completely in centuries.

For awhile he contemplates taking her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers to keep them warm, give her something to hang onto. He eventually decides against it. She’d accepted his touch earlier, even seemed to welcome it when he placed his hand to her forehead. But a sort of grim acceptance seems to have come over her ever since Pan’s visit, and he’s reluctant to try and talk much - he knows the topic of conversation would likely drift into unpleasantness soon enough.

He doesn’t know how to be there for her, but he aches to try.

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Paparazzi

Or: the story behind the third most famous image of the Katsuki-Nikiforov family 

It speaks for itself that Viktor is one of those people who always happens to look at least somewhat good in photographs. It’s a true rarity that he’s actually not presentable, especially in public. 

In this instance, though, Viktor looks more than just decent. He’d been feeling a little cooped up so decided the best idea to combat this is to overdress and go to get some coffee. So, the whole family goes on a little outing to Starbucks. 

To Viktor’s credit, he didn’t actually notice Yuuri wasn’t right behind him. He was carrying Odette (around six months old) at the time, his Starbucks cup in the other hand, probably looking flawless in Armani jeans and Gucci sunglasses. This, at least, was what the photographer in question had been trying to get a photo of. 

What made the photo famous, however, is what’s going on in the background. Unfortunately for Yuuri, the camera was good enough that when zooming in on the photo, you can make out every detail. First and foremost, Yuuri kind of looks like a mess. He’s wearing sweats, for one, which have child (and recent coffee) related stains all over them. He has bags under his eyes because Misha just so happens to be in his nightmare phase and for some reason decided that waking Yuuri up was the least embarrassing option. His hair is dishevelled after wrestling with Mirai to get her coat on because although it may be summer technically, St Petersburg is still freezing. 

The funniest thing about it, though, is the look of horror in Yuuri’s eyes as his arms are pulled a mix of directions by both children. His mouth is agape, suggesting he was shouting at someone. Meanwhile, Viktor smiles and winks in the direction of the camera, oblivious. 

Suffice to say, it becomes a reaction meme sensation, even for those who have never seen figure skating in their lives. 

Wild Turkey Woman

Summary: Killing time and liquor in a hotel room with Dean.
Pairing: Dean x Reader 
Word Count: 1420
Warnings: Language, drinking, sexy times, implied smut. 
Challenge: @winchester-writes’s Birthday Drinking Challenge; my prompt was Wild Turkey and, “Why is it I only drink this when I’m with you?” as well as @chaos-and-the-calm67‘s Milestone Challenge, wherein my prompt was “Have You Ever Really Love A Woman” by Bryan Adams, as well as the gif at the bottom of the fic. 

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kaitrionabalfe  asked:

I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.

Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)


Intersection: A Three Witches Story

Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.

To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:

“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)

Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.

And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.

But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.

“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)

“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.

Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.

Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.

Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.

But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.

But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.

So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)

The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).

In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”

Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.

Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)

It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.

Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.

Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.

Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.

Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.

But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)  

But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.

“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”

“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”

“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”

“Well then, take a seat, Mr…?”

“Fraser. Jamie.”

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wilsollace  asked:

Hey guys I was wondering if you could update the sleep deprivation tag? I just want to read cute fluffy fics about them having insomnia so I can pretend not sleeping is cute. Thanks guys!

ha sure!

Nightmares and Guarded Hearts by Delightful_I_Am (1/1 | 1,124 | PG13)

Stiles tries to stay awake. It doesn’t work.

Is This Real? by VoidSterekOTP (1/1 | 1,981 | NC17)

“You killed me, You killed your friends. You killed your dad.” She spits out and begins to stand

“I’m sorry momma, please forgive me.” He says with a shaky voice, The woman’s posture relaxes and her face becomes warm again.

“Look around you.”
He does and the sight has him screaming and sobbing. The grass around him is stained red as the bodies of the ones he loves are littered around. He looks at his blood coated hands and the knife he is holding firmly, at his feet Derek lays lifeless and staring off into nothing.

Mr. Sandman by AsagiStilinski (1/1 | 2,964 | G)

Derek Hale expected virtually nothing of shopping at three in the morning, but perhaps the thing he expected least was to find a guy in his early twenties asleep in the cereal aisle

And still standing up

Yuuri moved to Russia with Viktor. That means we have a small eternity in the timeline to imagine the kind of domestic bliss going on over there.

+ Viktor dragging Yuuri ALL OVER St. Petersburg as soon as Yuuri is no longer jetlagged, showing him everything

+ Viktor sitting in bed with a laptop while Yuuri slept, trying to see if there were any Japanese restaurant with high ratings around because he knew it’s a guarantee that Yuuri will miss home

+ petty arguments over whose turn it is to wash the dishes

+ always shopping extra for groceries because despite all of his complaining Yurio never fails to show up at their place for dinner at least three times a week after moving his home rink to St. Petersburg

+ “I survived in Detroit for five years, Vitya, I’m okay without Japanese food,” Yuuri says in amusement as Viktor dragged him out to eat. But he’s touched anyway and hey, food’s actually pretty damn good!!!

+ Yuuri actually using the kitchen appliances in Viktor’s old apartment

+ Yuuri becoming the neighborhood mystery and every granny and Viktor’s neighbors are Determined to catch him in conversation at least once a day, and Yuuri is terrified because his Russian is broken at best

+ “Alexei (the local butcher) congratulates on ‘finally finding the one after seven tries’,” Yuuri says one day as he returns to Viktor’s apartment with their grocery. “You sure are determined, Vitya.”

+ “I have to be a role model for Alexei, because he gave up after two,” Viktor replies grandly and comes over to give Yuuri a full body hug and a giant sloppy kiss on his cheek and a “Welcome home.”

+ YUURI LEARNING RUSSIAN (Viktor is Delighted)

+ Yurio is horrified when Yuuri repeated some of the things Viktor told him in bed and didn’t tell him what they meant. Yurio signed Yuuri up for a language learning class the day after and Yuuri is too mortified to protest.

+ Yakov invites Yuuri out for a drink and a talk. Yuuri seriously wondering if he should get a will put together in case Viktor’s old coach delivers the shovel talk but just stops at the “shovel” part

+ “Don’t worry, Yakov won’t hurt a fly,” Viktor tells him with barely contained mirth when Yuuri tells him this. After a moment, he also adds, “Besides, his legs are short. You should be able to outrun him.”

+ “Just watch out for the little pistol he has in his coat pocket,” adds Yurio, who is a complete shit

+ Yuuri calling Yurio “Yurachtka” instead of “Yurio”, figuring it’s a tad more friendly. Yurio pretends to blow a gasket over it but is secretly pleased; only his immediate family ever called him that, and Otabek was too formal for it

+ suspiciously, at least half of the fridge is full of things Yurio like to eat. There is a guest room that also has too many animal print stuff in it to belong to either Yuuri or Viktor. Nobody remarks on this

+ Lilia terrifies Yuuri, but they quickly form an amicable (“amicable”) student-teacher relationship after Lilia commands Yuuri to show up at her studio and dance for her. That was how she ended up getting introduced to Minako as well, who is ecstatic

+ the younger kids under Yakov flocking to Yuuri because he’s as talented as Yurio but is so much nicer. Viktor stands on the side of the rink being absolutely Smug

+ MILA AND YUURI FINALLY MEET, hitting it off right away after half a bottle of vodka. Mila has 50+ embarrassing pictures of Viktor and Yurio collected on her phone over the year. Yuuri is in awe

+ anyway I love this

Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place part 1 (Lin x Reader)

Paring: Lin x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language

Summary: The first time you seen Lin after high school is when you audition for his new musical. You’re excited to work with him, to star in his musical, and to rebuild your friendship. There’s just one problem: you’re still madly in love with him. 

A/N: This is my first imagine, I’m ridiculously nervous about posting this so I’d really appreciate any feedback! Two things- I’m expecting this to be about eight parts and it’s told in flashbacks and events of the present day. You’ll be able to see where the flashbacks start and end because of the tense change and asterisks!



YOU take a deep breath as you near the entrance to the theater. This is it. You are auditioning to be a member of the original Broadway cast of Hamilton. You’ve read the script, listened to the demos, and fell in love with the musical. You stare at your reflection in the dark mirrored door. This is the moment.

You reach out, pulling the door open and stepping inside the building. It’s cool inside, a stark contrast to the blister heat outside. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck as you maneuver your way towards the area that you’re supposed to be at. You nervously straighten your blouse and swallow around the lump that’s been forming in your throat for the last few minutes. It’s not your normal pre-audition nerves that’s causing so much anxiety, rather it’s the fact that within the hour you’ll be face to face with Lin Manuel- Miranda for the first time since your senior year.

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A Lesson in Love (Intro)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,419

A/N: This is going to be a multi-part fic and I’m super excited for it. Be prepared for fluff galore :) 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist

@avengerstories - thank you for putting up with me and encouraging me to write this.

Originally posted by ghostwritingforyou

“I’m going to flunk out of college.”

“No you’re not.”

The heavy weight of your backpack is nothing compared to the burden that has been placed on your shoulders due to the assignment you were just given. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Wanda retorts as she quickens her pace in order to stay in step with you.

“Will you let me crash on your sofa when I end up homeless and degree-less?” She snorts and you respond with a glare. “I’m serious.”

“I know. That’s what makes this so funny.”

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boyfriend does my makeup! | youtuber AU

yoongi/jimin + yoongi does jimin’s makeup! + rated FC for FLUFFY AND CUTE HAHAHAHAHAHA  + i hope you guys enjoy this! + for my baby @yoonminist ♥♥♥ + THE HEARTS ARE THOSE CUTS IN YOUTUBE VIDEOS HAHAHAHA you know that thing they do where they just cut and like…yeah, i hope you guys don’t get confused since this is mainly dialogue!

[also on my AO3!]

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Arthur! Run!

Arthur hates hearing those words, usually together. He really, really does. True, he hasn’t heard them a lot—most people are very much concerned about their own skin alone when things go sour. In all honesty, he would rather deal with that over those that actually care about him.

Worse, everything’s on fire.

It’s not the time to play, ‘Whose fault is this?’ But, the answer is that it’s Alfred’s. It’s always Alfred's—Alfred, with his stupid armor and his stupid sword and his stupid, sunbeam smile. Alfred whom, currently, only has a shield between himself and the dragon that’s stepping on him. Logically, the dragon’s far superior in strength, so Arthur supposes Alfred would be dead already if the overgrown serpent weren’t having a lot of fun spitting fire everywhere.

Their supplies are burning, their newly met party members are burning, and Arthur’s books are burning. Everything’s burning and it’s a sheer miracle that Arthur isn’t, that Arthur’s not engulfed in flames, and that Arthur’s mage robes haven’t succumbed to singe as imbued with magic as they are.

The worst part is that he’s absolutely useless here. What can he do? His job is to sit in the back with salt and chalks. His job is to recite incantations from books that very much require you to hone the power of the book itself in order to cast magic. He has a few books like that and right now they’re all burning, the magic screaming, and there’s nothing he can do.

He’s not from a powerful race, he’s not particularly talented, and he has no trump card or magic 'get out of danger free’ item.

The dungeon party has failed; they will all die here.

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Hands Covered in Paint // A Phan One-Shot

Genre: family fluff, parent!phan

Words: 2.1k

Relationship Status: married

Warnings: none

Summary: It is just Dan and his son, Winnie, home today, so the two decide to do some finger-painting for Phil.

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