Dean sees them on his way to grab a sandwich at the campus café, eye-catching flyers all crammed on a bulletin board with dozens of staples and edges overlapped. Some are for stuff he doesn’t care about, like thesis defenses for esoteric topics, but then his gaze wanders to the dollar signs and he takes a step forward to read more closely.
Paid Research Opportunity
The Love Lab in the Department of Psychology needs participants for a study on romantic relationships. To be eligible, participants must be over the age of 18; have been dating monogamously for at least six months; and currently living together. The study involves weekly interviews where both participants are present. Compensation is contingent upon satisfactory participation and each couple will receive $75 per interview.
Dean lifts an eyebrow. Seventy-five dollars for every hour or two of sitting and talking? The flyer doesn’t specify the number of interviews, but even if he blows the first one, which is probably impossible, that’s still a minimum of seventy-five dollars to put toward something other than rent.
The flyer is cut into strips at the bottom, each printed with the lab’s email and phone number. Dean takes out his phone instead of ripping one off to snap a photo of the entire page. He then stands there, sandwich forgotten, as he sends a quick email to the lab telling them that, yes, he’s interested. And once that’s done, he attaches the photo he just took to a text that reads, ‘Signed us up.’
He finds his roommate brewing tea in the kitchen when he gets home that afternoon. He lets his backpack drop to the floor as he saunters over to join him.
“Drinking your mulch again?” he teases gently, heading to the fridge and poking inside. He grabs a beer because he isn’t a hippie, thank you, and pops it open on the countertop.
“Drinking your empty calories again?” Castiel quips, curling his hand around the ceramic mug. It was a present from Sam and has the molecular structure for caffeine drawn on one side because they’re both nerds who clearly enjoy chemistry paraphernalia.
“You call it empty calories. I call it better taste.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Cas quirks his lips, amusement in his eyes. “Also, I got your text. You may have missed a little detail there.”
“What detail?” Dean frowns a little, eyeing Cas over the rim of his bottle. “We get free money for interviewing. Sounds like all the details I need to know.”
Prompt: Dan sees a a beautiful man doodling on a foggy window in a cafe and can’t get him out of his head. He comes everyday at the same time to see the beautiful stranger. Word Count: 3671 Warnings: Cussing, light angst A/N: Thank you to @philestergifs for this amazing prompt! It took so long to write this for some reason (I’ve been writing it since October???) and I’m so happy I could finally get it out! Special thanks to @theinsanityplays as well for giving me some feedback for this fic ^-^ I also didn’t have a beta so sorry for any errors but I hope everyone likes it! Read it on AO3!
To say Dan was having a terrible day was an understatement.
He woke up late, having forgotten to set an alarm for work, so he had to rush through his morning routine. This meant he wasn’t able to take an hour long shower like he was used to and he couldn’t straighten his hair. Thanks to genetics, his hair dried in curly ringlets that stuck out in every direction.
He also had to skip breakfast, which is bad in itself, but he soon found out that his coffee machine had stopped working as well. Dan with curly hair and no morning caffeine? Not a good idea.
So he went for the best option of going to the nearest coffee shop and ordering a french vanilla latte to go.
The wait was nearly impossible to sit through, especially with Dan’s habit of being too impatient for his own good. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically quivering in his shoes at each name that was called. His eyes were frantic while he tried to distract himself from the inevitable doom that was this horrible morning.
Summary: There are a lot of ways to say something without actually saying it.
A/N: a little long. also if jim kirk called me starlight, i’d probably cry n profess my love right then and there. forgive any n all typos. enjoy it and lemme know what you think!
The absurdly bright lights lining the corridors of the Enterprise pricked your eyes— you were forced to squint as your legs carried you. The air pouring through the vents pinched any of your skin that remained unclothed. You flexed and contracted the oddly tired joints in your fingers— you could hear tiny pops and the soft sounds felt like battering rams against your eardrums.
You cursed yourself for two reasons: losing your left boot as the time-consuming search for it resulted in your inability to replicate a much needed mug of coffee, and drinking so much with Leonard the night before. While you accepted the former was entirely your doing, you split the blame on the latter— half of it was your fault, and half was Leonard’s. It’s those stupid puppy eyes, you told yourself.
You leant your shoulder against the transparent wall of the turbolift you solely occupied and crossed your arms over your chest. Your teeth were gritted— as if grinding your teeth to nubs would give you the day off and rid you of the heavy weight crushing your skull.
The doors slid open before your desired deck and you didn’t bother stifling a sigh that carried the weight of two starships. You dropped your gaze to glare at your scuffed boots rather than subject the new lift patron to your scowl and dagger eyes.
You lifted your head at the sound of his voice and met his eyes. You frowned immediately and nodded twice. “Bones and I had paperwork.”
“What would you say the ratio was this time?” he asked, his crossed arms rumpling the command gold fabric that was firmly stretched over his chest. He was smiling slightly in amusement as he took in your appearance— messy hair, half-zipped left boot, heavy lidded eyes.
You shrugged and eyed the ceramic mug in his hands. You could have moaned at the smell steaming out of it. “I’d say about two charts to one glass.”
“How many charts in total?”
“Fourteen each,” you winced at the revelation and took your eyes from Jim’s when the amusement painted his features red.
“Seven glasses of whiskey in one sitting,” he said with a laugh. “No wonder you look like that.”
You narrowed your eyes. “How dare you! I look adorable— like a celebrity running errands.”
“‘Cept you’re about to start an eight-hour shift.”
You sighed so your shoulders slumped. “My rough night’s turning into a rough morning— I didn’t even have time to replicate coffee because of my stupid missing boot.”
Jim glanced down at his mug and thrust it in your direction without thinking twice. “Take mine.”
Someone’s probably already thought of this before somewhere, but I’ve never seen any content on it. So Dipper fails to save Ford in DaMvtF. The prison droid leaves the Earth’s atmosphere, flinging Ford off-planet once more.
Luckily, Dipper has the adhesive and manages to use it to… make a fairly sturdy patch job on the rift. He was never told exactly how to go about patching the cracks, but he figures it can’t be any more difficult than fixing a ceramic mug with super glue. In this AU, then, Bill Cipher would cease to be an immediate threat. The rift is enclosed and in a secure place, and unless Bill possessed Dipper himself it ain’t going anywhere since he and Ford were the only ones who knew about it at the time. And you can sure as hell bet Dipper ain’t making any deals with him.
Meanwhile, the prison droid is sending Ford to some prison complex light years away. I have this awful image in my head of the bubble thing he’s trapped in transforming into a cryogenic stasis pod once it leaves atmosphere, Ford thrashing about in panic as one of those cord things that grabbed him in the episode pricks him with a hypodermic needle that fills his veins with a special fluid that will keep his blood from freezing while in stasis. It’ll probably take hundreds of years for this small ship to actually reach the prison.
On Earth, Dipper rushes home in an absolute meltdown, babbling almost incoherently to Stan and Mabel about how Ford was caught by the droid. He fears that Stan hates him now because he couldn’t save Ford and he’s gone again JUST AFTER Stan spent all those years working to get him back. Stan could never be angry at the kid, though. He hugs him tightly, whispering how it’s not his fault and he tried the best he could. They begin to go over their options for how they might save him, which admittedly, are very few.
Eventually, Mabel mentions Blendin, and they end up doing something to contact him for help thousands of years away. (Hmm how to attract a time traveller…) In the book Dipper and Mabel and the Curse of the Time Pirate’s Treasure, it’s established that Blendin’s time tape can take him through both time AND space. So there’s how they’re gonna reach Ford, eventually. The only issue now is how to find him. Where was he actually sent? And how many years would it take for Ford to get there?
Hundreds of years into the future, Ford wakes up at his destination. But rather than wake in an operational prison facility, he finds himself wandering alone. The place is abandoned. Rusting. Falling apart. As if civilization as a whole on this planet has ceased to be altogether. It’s not a surprising conclusion to him- after all, the craft that collided into the Gravity Falls had been there for millions of years. Whatever alien civilization once existed here must have died long ago. HIS goal is to become acclimated to his current surroundings and the reality of being homeless among the stars again. He doubts rescue is possible at this point, because his family hasn’t been alive for hundreds of years.
But his family is coming for him. They’re crossing time and space just to save him, and nothing can stand in their way.
You weren’t exactly sure when Min
Yoongi had come into town.
To be quite honest, you didn’t even know
when it was that he had first stepped into the coffee shop you worked at. It
was hopeless attempting to remember each person who passed through the establishment,
especially not when the interactions generally lasted less than a minute. The
faces of the customers you encountered every single day just blended together, much
like their orders of caramel macchiatos and green tea lattes. It was difficult to
keep track of the cursory café connoisseurs, but you knew one thing was for
If it weren’t for the sturdy construction of a late 2008 MacBook—yes, white (well, more like off-dingy-white) shell and all—and the soft, fluffy rug—a housewarming gift from your mother–that covered your hardwood floors, the computer would have been shattered when you vaulted from the couch after the article—sent from a friend that was in desperate need of a lesson in softening the blow–loaded on the screen.
“Fuck!” you cursed, haphazardly picking your laptop up by the corner and tossing it on the sofa. “Shit, fuck!” Snatching your not-yet-empty wine glass from its perch, you stomped into your flat’s little kitchenette and uncorked the bottle of red while downing what remained in your glass. You poured and downed another.
“Really?!” you screamed at the pocket pig calendar hanging opposite you, a bit of spittle and wine flying from your mouth.
Poor Darius; he and his little cowboy hat didn’t deserve any of this.
You tried to calm yourself, really you did, but after a few huffing breaths that were anything but calming, you gave up and grabbed the bottle of wine before heading back to the couch. Your phone was at your ear, number selected and dialed, before the blankets and pillows had even settled from the force of your entire body weight slamming dramatically into them.
“Honey, are you alright?” Despite the hint of worry in her tone, your mum’s voice managed to calm you a bit; suddenly air wasn’t being forced in and out of your lungs as a more natural rhythm took hold.
“No,” you answered tartly before taking another swig of wine. It was silent as you both waited for the other to speak.
“Well are you going to tell me or can I get back to bed?” Mum was always impatient when it came close to bedtime; she was a solid eight-hour sleeper—nothing more and nothing less—and she coordinated her bedtime and wakeup time perfectly so she always got the right amount of sleep.
“He’s…engaged,” you said bitterly, lips puckering around the words, a sour taste left in your mouth at the admission; it didn’t feel right coming off your tongue. And it wasn’t jealousy—or at least you didn’t want to admit it was—because you weren’t entirely sure that if He were replaced with We you would be left with the same sour feeling.
How To Art when everyone just keeps telling you to practice and you don’t know how to do that
I’ve seen a lot of stuff going around that’s like “The best think you can do when you’re a beginner artist is to practice!!!” And while that’s true it can be very difficult to get started in art when everyone just keeps telling you “practice practice practice” without giving you any tips.
I’ve seen one post that explains this pretty well but anyway here’s how to start doing art a lot besides practicing (which you should be doing):
Find motivation!! This is the hardest part because in the beginning it’s really easy to give up since you’re not “good enough” yet but just keep pushing forward
Look to others for inspiration. Did you see a really good drawing today?? What did you like about it? Maybe try to draw something using similar elements as their art did, but try not to copy them completely
Find a style that you like. If you really like the art style for Steven Universe, great!! Or if you like another artist online, that’s cool too!! Don’t copy their art completely, but look at things in their style that you appreciate and try to incorporate that into what you want to draw
Also developing an art style takes FOREVER so don’t force yourself into a style right away. It’ll come to you
Do studies. What that means is realistically drawing something using a reference. Seriously, draw a ceramic mug or a pencil to practice shading if you want, or draw a person to figure out anatomy. this can help a lot with just getting basics like lineart and shading
Practice using different techniques. For example, once you have a sketch and lineart done of your drawing, how do you want to color it? Flat colors, smooth shading, or cell shading? Don’t just stick with one thing all the time unless you really love it. It’s okay to go out of your comfort zone!
LOOK FOR RESOURCES. Tumblr is a good place for tutorials (@drawingden is a great blog to find some things). Look online for different techniques people use in their art that could help you
It’s okay to use reference images. You will thank yourself later. Google image search what you want to draw and then draw the thing
And like it’s been said before, practice. And practice every day. If you think you don’t have time to practice, make time for it. If you really want to progress in art you’re going to have to find time to practice doing it.
Also???? Do some traditional drawing before you spend money on a drawing tablet. If you’re interested in digital art that’s great but try just drawing on paper and see if you really want to go on to digital.
It’s easy to get discouraged by looking at other people’s art so try to stop comparing yourself to others too much and just use them as inspiration or your goals for the future
Anyway I guess that’s all I have to say. Thanks for reading if you made it this far :)