cool toilets

Liability (Part 1)

A/N: FINALLY posting something. This is based off a recent even that happened in my life and I kinda needed to write it all down…let me know what you think! Especially since I haven’t written in forever! 

Dean x Reader, Sam, Jody, Claire

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

The two of you had avoided each other for weeks.

What went from hurtful words spewed at you in the heat of the moment, to you needing time, which then eventually led to the art of stonewalling that the two of you perfected in. And now here you were with this awful knot in your throat, your mind curled in on itself, two hands firmly holding the steering wheel, driving in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. You couldn’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about in the first place, but the overwhelming sense of not being of any use to him, of being an inconvenience, a liability, was enough to have you putting as much distance as you possibly could from Lebanon, Kansas.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hiya! How would lucio, hanzo, and mcree to finding out their s/o is pregnant? (They didn't say anything, but they're showing some pretty big signs of it).


Lucio gave a hum as he watched you, tilting his head slightly as he looked at your stomach. He scooted over and you rested on his chest, his hand subtly sneaking to feel your stomach. 

“Man,” you said, leaning your head on his warm chest, “I feel really sick.”

“Did you see a doctor?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Do you think I should?” you asked and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I can come with,” he said, noticing your stomach was sticking out slightly but he didn’t want to raise his hopes.

“Would you?” you said, smiling up at him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.


His dragons were agitated, sensing a change within you and getting protective. He had to stop them from leaving just to curl around you several times in the last week and he’s pretty sure he knew what happened. He wasn’t sure what to think about being a father, however.

You seemed unaware blaming the sickness on bad food or maybe the flu. He crouched to the floor as you vomited into the toilet, rubbing your back. You murmured your thanks as you rested your head against the cool toilet seat.

“Perhaps it is not an illness,” he suggested and you looked up at him.

“What?” you said, curling up into his chest and he pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, “you don’t think that I’m..”

You stared forward as you realised that you were indeed pregnant and Hanzo looked at you with amusement, continuing to rub your back.


You were just achy and irritable, having snapped at him earlier and then burst into tears as you feared he would leave him. McCree just pulled you close and you curled up into his chest, hiccuping as he rubbed your back.

He later asked if it was your time of the month, and you shook your head though it was late this time. The idea popped into his head and he tilted his head as he looked at you, crouching to peer at your stomach.

He rested his hand against your tummy and you peered down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t it seem bigger?” he murmured and you felt the urge to smack him.

“Are you calling me fat?” he shook his head and he murmured under his breath while stroking your stomach.

“Maybe you should take a pregnancy test,” he suggested and you froze, realising what he was saying.

Pairing: Bones/Jim/Reader Friendship

Word Count: 1597

Warnings: hella angst, mentions of depression, swearing

A/N: I’ve been in a bad headspace the past few days and I hoped writing would help (it did a little) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You’d been on the Enterprise too long now, and you were starting to feel it weighing you down despite the lightness of the artificial gravity. You had hoped your last shore leave would help center you again, but you took it in Yorktown, and the fake sun did little to warm the chill that seemed permanently settled in your bones. Where you used to marvel at the advancement of technology, you shunned it now, wishing more than anything to feel the old Earth’s sun on your face and its grass between your toes.

Everyone told you you were lucky to be stationed on the Enterprise - especially for a five year mission. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Something that has never been attempted before in Starfleet history. You were a part of something bigger now, and you weren’t sure you wanted to be. You missed your friends, your family. You missed so much.

Keep reading

side effects may include

read on ao3

summary: robert goes on antidepressants

based on a number of conversations with the ever so lovely @rocketdocket. this fic is based on my own personal experience with antidepressants and is by no means true for all people who take medication for mental health issues.


Citalopram 20 mg and 40 mg tablets

What Citalopram is and what it is used for:

Citalopram belongs to the group of so-called SSRIs (selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors) and is used to treat depressive illnesses (episodes of major depression). People who are depressed have lower levels of the substance serotonin in their brain than others. Citalopram may help by increasing the levels of serotonin.

‘It’s been almost an hour,’ Aaron says, slumping back on the sofa and crossing his arms over his chest. A quiz show plays on the television in front of him. ‘Are you sure they got the order?’

‘Yes I’m sure,’ Robert says, settling down on the sofa, handing him a beer. He sits close to Aaron, their knees and elbows touching. It’s a casual closeness that Aaron wouldn’t have believe to be possible a year or so ago.

‘Well where are they then?’ Aaron asks, tugging up the tab on his beer. It snaps off in his hand. ‘Well that’s just bloody brilliant and all.’ He gets up to fetch himself a fresh one.

‘There’s more in the fridge,’ Robert says, taking a sip of red wine from his glass. Aaron can’t understand why he likes that stuff. It tastes like watered-down vinegar. ‘And pass me my phone while you’re up, it’s in my jacket. I’ll give them a call, see where our curry has got to.’

‘What did your last slave die of?’ Aaron grumbles, but extracts himself from the sofa as instructed. He pads over to the dinner table taking Robert’s jacket from the back of one of the chairs and fumbling around in his pockets. When he pulls the phone out, a crumpled slip of green paper falls to the floor. Without thinking, Aaron crouches down to pick it up.

It’s a prescription. Aaron’s chest constricts.

‘What’s this?’ He says, barely managing to keep his tone casual.

Robert looks over his shoulder. When he sees Aaron holding the prescription his face hardens. He’s up from the sofa like a shot, rushing over to Aaron and snatching the paper from his hands. The motion is so sudden that Aaron actually takes a step back.

‘What the hell was that?’ Aaron asks, watching as Robert crumples up the prescription and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Doesn’t seem like nothing. You practically tore my hand off trying to get it.’

Robert shakes his head, turning on his heal and heading for the staircase. He doesn’t shut Aaron down like this anymore. Not unless something is really wrong. Aaron’s vision clouds with tears as he watches his husband go.

‘Are you ill?’ Aaron asks, his voice cracking. Robert stops in his tracks, one hand rested on the bannister. He turns to face Aaron, who expects him to still be wearing that impenetrable mask he always wears at times like this, but he isn’t. His expression has softened.

‘I’m not ill,’ he says, turning to Aaron. He crosses his arms and uncrosses them again, like he’s unsure what to do with them. ‘Not exactly.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Robert closes his eyes, his expression pinched. He sinks down onto the stairs, one hand massaging his forehead.

‘What’s wrong?’ Aaron demands, his voice far too loud now. Liv can probably hear him over the music that thuds through the floor above them, but in that moment, he can’t make the space in his head to worry about that. ‘What’s so bad that you can’t even tell me about it?’

‘They’re antidepressants,’ Robert says, his voice low and resigned. ‘Citalopram is an antidepressant. The doctor prescribed me it yesterday.’

‘Why?’ It feels like a stupid thing to say, but Aaron can’t help it. Robert has been in counselling for three months now, and he’s seemed okay. He has his moments, they both do, but nothing Aaron would have thought warranted meds.

Robert actually laughs at that. A gruff noise that is supposed to suffice for some kind of answer.

‘You don’t know why?’

‘Of course I know why,’ Robert snaps. His voice is quick and sharp like a slap across the face. ‘My counselor doesn’t know what’s wrong with me. She wants me to get a proper psych consult so she contacted my GP about it. He put me on the waiting list but it’s as long as a piece of string so he gave me the prescription to tide me over until then.’

Aaron feels himself relax slightly. It’s okay. Robert is okay. Well, okay as he always is, anyway. He’s not dying of some kind of terrible ailment that’s so horrific that he decided to keep it from him. This is fine. He’s fine.

‘I’m not going to take them, though.’

‘What? Why not?’ Aaron says, frowning.

‘Because they’re antidepressants. It makes this, y’know,’ Robert waves one of his hands in an abstract motion, ‘a thing.’

‘A thing.’


Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose.

‘You needn’t look so pissed off either,’ Robert says. ‘You probably wouldn’t take them either.’

‘Yes I would.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. You’re stubborn.’

‘Pot, kettle, black.’

Robert brings his feet up onto the bottom step and props his chin up on his hand.  It’s only now that Aaron notices how tired he looks. He looks older, like something is draining his life force.

‘I don’t want any of this to be a thing,’ he says, staring at Aaron’s feet. ‘Like counselling is one thing, and that’s taken me long enough to get used to, but meds? Psych consults? I don’t know if I can do that. It’s too much.’

Aaron crouches down in front of his husband, taking one of his hands in both of his own. It’s cold and clammy, a sign that Robert is far more upset about this than he’s letting on.

‘I don’t know how I got to this point,’ Robert continues, unable to look Aaron in the eye. ‘I don’t know how I spiralled out of control to the point that I can’t trust my own mind anymore. It’s like I have this massive cut on my leg and I don’t remember how I got it but it’s getting all infected and disgusting and it hurts and no one can bear to look at it. That’s how my brain feels right now.’

Aaron takes a moment, running his thumb over the back of Robert’s hand and considering.

‘Would you let them give you antibiotics?’ he asks.

Robert pulls his hand back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If you did have a big, gross, infected cut on your leg, would you let a doctor give you antibiotics?’

‘It’s not the same thing.’

‘How isn’t it the same thing?’

Robert covers his face with his hands and sighs. ‘It just isn’t.’

‘If you can’t think of reason that it’s different, then it probably isn’t different.’

‘People don’t think you’re crazy if you take antibiotics.’

‘For God’s sake,’ Aaron sighs, trying to fight down his frustration. ‘Who the hell cares? If it’s going to help you feel better than you do now, then who cares?’

‘What if it doesn’t help?’ Robert says, uncovering his face. He’s not crying, because when does Robert ever cry about anything? He just looks resigned. ‘Nothing seems to help.’

‘Then you can come off them again and try something else.’

Robert falls into a silence that is only broken a minute later when the doorbell rings. Aaron gets to his feet. He presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead, feeling relief wash over him when he leans into it.

‘That’ll be the curry, at last,’ he says, giving Robert a small smile, silently trying to convince him that they can carry on as normal in spite of this. ‘Just think about it. We can get your prescription filled first thing tomorrow, if you want. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Just think about it.’

And Robert does.

Keep reading

The Snowball part 20

Yo I finished an essay so here have another chapter :)

Link to other chapters X

Feyre’s head was throbbing like there was still loud music playing nearby. Her head felt so disconnected from her body she wondered if it was even still attached to her. That was until she tried moving an arm to cover her face from the faint light of morning and found that she was stiff and sore.

Feyre could have lied down, tucked into warm, clean sheets all morning if her mouth wasn’t as dry as a desert, and her tongue as rough as sandpaper.

Her hand blindly reached out searching for her bedside table where she normally kept a glass of water, and instead hit something soft and fleshy, and very much alive.

Feyre yelped and jolted upright. She relaxed when she saw Rhysand sprawled across her mattress, mouth open and eyes shut, clearly dreaming.

He was still fully clothed and had half kicked off the blanket he had taken from the end of her bed.

Feyre registered she was wearing a baggy, oversized t-shirt that was definitely not her own.

When Feyre tried to remember the bar last night, all that came up was her and Rhys playing their game with Amren, and Nesta beating Cassian at drinking. Much of whatever happened afterwards was a blur.

A rising sense of nausea and a sickly heat had Feyre scrambling from the bed and running to the bathroom as her stomach punished her for all the alcohol she had consumed.

Feyre sat huddled over the toilet bowl as her sweat slicked hands gripped the bowl until her vomiting subsided.

She thought she had been quiet until a soft padding of footsteps told her otherwise. A warm hand pulled back her hair while the other rubbed her back and shoulders soothingly.

“Morning.” Rhys said sleepily, while quickly planting a kiss on the top of Feyre’s head.

Feyre groaned back in response which made Rhys chuckle.

“If it’s any consolation, I think Cassian is having an even worse time than you.” Rhys laughed.

Cassian’s room was near Feyre’s and they shared the same bathroom wall, which meant that Cassian could probably hear her throwing up right now, if Cassian was even conscious.

Feyre wiped her face with some toilet paper that Rhys handed her.

“You did this to me.” Feyre said groaning, as she rested her forehead on the cool outside of the toilet bowl.

“I never did anything to you, this is your own fault.”

Feyre went silent before asking, “Did you change me?”

“As fun as that would have been, no. You insisted you could do it yourself and I had to leave the room. It took you three times to finally get it on the right way, and not inside out.”

“Is this your shirt?” Feyre asked, eyeing the gray material.

“Maybe.” Rhys shrugged.


“You asked to wear it, and I obviously didn’t mind.” Rhys said, glancing down at her exposed legs.

Feyre groaned at how embarrassing her drunk self was. “Sorry, I guess I must have been a handful last night, huh?”

Rhys just smiled at her softly, “It’s repayment, for you looking after me the other night and making sure I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Did I do anything else… stupid?”

“You were fine. Perfectly well behaved.”

“Really?” Feyre asked surprised.

“No.” Rhys laughed. “When I got you home you refused to go to bed until I’d made you pancakes. You then dropped the entire bag of flour and decided to paint with it. You also kept touching my hair and saying how much you liked it.”

Feyre curled into a small ball on the floor and hid her face from Rhys. “You can just kill me now. It’s okay I’m ready.”

Rhys instead pulled her to her feet and convinced her to go to the kitchen and try to eat some food.

In the kitchen Feyre was surprised and a little afraid to see Amren and Nesta sitting together and talking easily.

Amren offered them a small wave when they entered but otherwise ignored them for her conversation. Nesta however, looked up and locked eyes with Feyre before her eyes flitted to the shirt she was wearing and how it was so obviously not her own.

Feyre tugged at the hum of the shirt self consciously and wished that she had changed into something else before coming down but it was too late now.

“How’s Cassian?” Rhys asked.

“He wakes from a coma long enough to hurl his guts up before slipping back under.” Nesta grinned at them.

“I’m glad someone taught him a lesson for once.” Amren muttered.

“Maybe I should go ask if he wants a coffee or something?” Feyre asked.

Behind the counter, and out of view of Nesta and Amren, Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre’s waist and tugged her closer.

“He’ll be fine, he just needs to sleep it off.” Rhys said into her ear.

Feyre blushed as she felt Nesta’s eyes lock on them again.

“What happened to you two last night?” Nesta asked suspiciously.

Amren cut a glare at the two of them. “Well I know what they were doing before  they disappeared.”

“No hard feelings Amren?” Rhys said winking, which Amren pointedly ignored.

“I didn’t see you leaving the club.” Nesta tried again.

“That’s because you were too busy drinking flammable liquids.” Feyre quipped back.

“Feyre was a bit tipsy so I brought her back home to sleep.” Rhys added when Nesta looked like she would question further.

“I suppose she also doesn’t own her own pyjamas, so you brought her some of yours too?” Nesta asked with a sardonic grin.

At that Rhys sputtered and Nesta turned to Amren who grinned back at her.

“Are Mor and Az home?” Feyre asked quickly.

“Yeah, they came back just before dawn.” Amren answered.

Just then a news report came on the television that had everyone racing to get closer.

A headline was flashing across the screen as well as a photo of Tamlin which read, “Tamlin claims abuse rumours made up”.

“This ought to be good.” Amren rolled her eyes.

Feyre’s eyes were glued to the screen as Tamlin appeared on camera being interviewed by a reporter.

“Were you and Feyre in a relationship?” The reporter asked.

“Yes, we’d been together for several months.” Was Tamlin’s monotone response.

“And did you attack her?”

“Absolutely not. I loved her.” Tamlin’s response was adamant.

“Then why would she spread these accusations?” The reporter pushed.

“Because she was using me for my money. I was supporting her family who lived in another town and I recently stopped, she must have gotten mad and decided to get revenge.”

Feyre’s blood was boiling as she witnessed Tamlin lying on national television. She reached out to take Rhys’s hand for support which he squeezed back.

“She also mentioned that you were backing a deal which could potentially destroy a whole community?” The reporter asked.

“That’s ridiculous, why would I take part in anything like that knowingly?”

Feyre was disgusted and made to turn off the tv when it switched to footage captured on a cell phone of her and Rhys leaving Rita’s. She watched in horror as she was clearly drunk and unable to walk, with Rhys swinging her into his arms before they disappeared from view.

A voice over from a reporter cut in, “Clearly Feyre Archeron attracts the attention of very wealthy and influential men, seen here leaving a night club last night with Rhysand. Can we really trust her word?”

“What just happened?” Feyre asked in shock when a new segment started.

Amren quickly shut off the tv, leaving them in silence.

“He’ll pay for this.” Rhys growled, still staring at the tv as if he could see Tamlin.

“No. Getting into another fight isn’t going to help anyone.” Feyre said rubbing her temples.

Quick footsteps from the hallway alerted them to Mor and Azriel entering.

“We just saw the news!” Mor said horrified. “Feyre I’m so sorry this has happened.”

“It’s fine. We knew this could happen.” Feyre said trying to remain calm, but her voice broke on the word fine.

“We just need to discredit him further.” Azriel suggested.

“Yeah, find someone, a witness maybe?” Mor agreed.

Feyre listened to them all argue it out while she retreated into her own thoughts. The reporters didn’t have to use the words that everyone would now associate her with. Gold digger. Man eater. Slut.

She sat down on the couch and stared numbly at the ground trying to sort out how she felt.

Rhys continued to talk to the others, shooting her worried glances, but giving her some space to think.

When the doorbell rang everyone jumped.

“I’ll get it.” Azriel said.

They all listened quietly as Azriel answered the door. He spoke so quietly that Feyre couldn’t hear what he was saying but she thought she heard him dangerously growl “Get out”.

Eventually two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway and Azriel reappeared looking angry but wary.

When Azriel stepped out of the way Feyre saw why. Standing behind him was Hybern.

Rhys was immediately in front of Hybern, standing face to face with him as he did everything but outright snarl and bare his teeth.

“You are not welcome here.” Rhys said growling.

Hybern simply smiled slowly. “How nice it is to see you again Rhysand. Shame about your house, but I am actually not here to see you.” Then Hybern turned his dark eyes to look directly at Feyre.

Rhys noticed the look and took an impossible step closer to Hybern, practically nose to nose.

“Leave her out of this.” He said dangerously.

“I just want to talk to the lovely Feyre.” Hybern smiled sweetly.

The compliment only angered Rhys further who looked like he was one word away from throwing a punch.

“Rhys it’s okay. I want to hear what he has to say.” Feyre interrupted.

Rhys whipped his head to look at Feyre and the moment he saw her, his eyes softened and he stiffly nodded, moving away to stand back by her side.

“Impressive.” Hybern whistled. “Do you know how many years I have tried to train that mutt?”

“It isn’t too late for me throw you out of here. Say whatever it is that you want, and then leave.” Rhys warned.

Hybern held up two hands in surrender. “Alright. I simply wanted to ask Feyre to drop her ridiculous allegations.”

Amren scoffed. “And why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her very nicely.” Hybern smiled sweetly at Feyre, but Feyre could see the rottenness underneath, and the threat that was thinly veiled.

“…And if I don’t?” Feyre challenged.

“Well. I’d lose a lot of money if Tamlin was unable to fulfil his part of our deal due to… unforeseen circumstances. It would be quite terrible for my staff. Some you may even know.” At this, Hybern smiled wickedly and Feyre had an uneasy feeling in her gut.

“Either tell us what you mean, or get out.” Rhys snarled.

“Manners Rhysand. I know your mother taught you, what would she say if she could see you now?” Hybern taunted, and it broke Feyre’s heart to see Rhys’s composure break a little.

“Enough. Tell me whatever it is you came here to do or I’ll call the police.” Feyre asked angrily.

Hybern sighed dramatically. “If you kept a closer eye on your own family members Feyre, you would already know.”

Feyre’s heart plummeted. She glanced at Nesta confused. Nesta had her brow furrowed and looked like she was furiously trying to solve something.

“Just tell me already!” Feyre practically shouted.

“Tamlin was so very kind to give me some details when I mentioned I needed a new receptionist. Elain is a very diligent worker.” Hybern bragged.

Feyre started shaking in anger but it was Nesta who spoke to Hybern.

“If you hurt her-”

“I would never hurt an innocent girl. Neither would any of my business partners. But, as I said, bad things happen when I lose money. So many workers lost.” Hybern said sadly, and turned on his heel to stride back out the front door.

Under the Weather (a Leonard McCoy x Reader fanfiction)

Ok, this fic originally started off as a joke but then turned kind of serious and fluffy. Idk I don’t make these stories up, lol. Anyway, here’s a sweet ill!reader x Bones fanfiction.

Word count: 2787
Rating: teen
Warnings: swearing (mostly Bones) and like one f- bomb, sick reader

**NOTE: Re-uploading this because I realized after taking it down that I wanted this to be on my feed, I am proud of any writing that I do regardless of what others opinions are. But I did make a few edits. Mostly the same, however. Just ignore my drama kids, and enjoy the story!

Originally posted by etudiant-en-ph2

Originally posted by transjeanluc

Keep reading

Scared Part 1

Requested by: anonymous 

Summary: you find out that you are pregnant and Josh gets scared 


Your Pov: 

Lately I haven’t been feeling well. At first I thought I was sick,you know the common cold. But lately I have been feeling worse, and more symptoms wold pop up,that wouldn’t match the symptoms of the common cold. Some of the symptoms that I have are: getting nauseous around food, throwing up(all the time), and feeling tired all the time. I haven’t told my boyfriend Josh yet cause I don’t want him to worry about me. He has enough on his plate to worry about. He’s been home for a while, cause him and his best friend, Tyler took a two week break from their tour. I have missed him so much while he was away. We weren’t married(yet), but we have been dating for two years now, which is a very long time. We have talked about having kids in the future but we both agreed we would wait until we were married. It was way too soon for us to have kids. I was pulled out of my thoughts by the front door opening. 

“Hey baby, I’m home! Where are you?.” I heard Josh yell. 

“Hey babe, I’m on the couch in the living room.”  I answered him. 

I could hear him putting his stuff down on the island in the kitchen and making his way over. Once he got to the living room he walked over to me and pulled me in for a kiss. When we pulled away I lightly smiled at him. Josh then sat on the couch and put his arm around me. 

“How was hanging out with Tyler?” I asked turning my head to look at him. It’s funny because even when their on break they still hang out with each other twenty four seven. 

“It was good, Ty was really hyper today.” He told me with a laugh. “How was your day babe? Did you do anything fun?” He asked me with a small smile. 

I lightly shook my head. “Not really. I just cleaned the house a little and layed on the couch watching movies.” I said with a small laugh. “Not fun at all.” 

He shook his head and laughed along with me. After he stopped laughing he turned to look at me like he wanted to ask another question. 

“What are we having for dinner?” He asked. 

Right as he said that I got nauseous, I felt like I was going to throw up. Just the thought of food is disgusting to me right now, that’s why I haven’t eaten anything all day today. Josh must’ve noticed the change in my expression because he frowned.

Keep reading

Space Heater [DIBS 17]

It hit. Like a full on freight train straight through each temple, crashing into your eyelids, sending waves of nausea to your gut.

The boys were on a hunt, you opted to stay back, do research, when the laptop screen started to get all hazy wavy, the auras blending the words into what looked like Sanskrit.

They were English, by the way. Plain old English.

Grumbling as you managed to find your migraine medicine, you sent a quick text, to Sam.

9-1-1. Bring your warmth. U know where 2 find me.

Your phone dinged and you saw his response:

One furnace in an hour, xo

It took longer than an hour and it appeared what you thought was a migraine was now a full on attack of the flu.  You were retching in the bathroom’s toilet, using cool compresses on your forehead, and you as you debated drinking whiskey, Dean’s “cure all”, you felt your stomach flip, the taste of bile on your tongue, and you threw up again.

Crawling into bed, you were a mass of sweats.  You were in such a daze you didn’t feel the bed dip, or the massive amount of man pull you into his chest.

“Damn it, YN,” he sighed concerned, “not a migraine is it?”

“Nuh uh, Sh-ammy,” you replied congested, “my body hurts ‘lots.”

It had to be bad for you to regress to baby talk, Sam chuckled to himself, not aloud, because you’d beat him silly for even saying it.

“Let’s get you some fluids and medicine and we’ll sleep this off, ‘k?” he suggested.  You could hear him fiddling around in the medicine cabinet, shuffled out the door of your bedroom, towards the kitchen, shuffled back to you, handed you two horse pills, water, and took your temperature.

“103,” he sighed, “definitely not a migraine babe.” He settled into bed and you pushed at him.

“Don’t come any closher Shammy, I don’t wanna get’chu sick too,” you whined.

“YN, we made out like rabbits last night, before Dean and I went on the hunt, whatever you have, I am probably a petri dish of it right about now.”


You started to shiver and that’s when Sam brought you closer to his body, your own personal space heater.  Teeth clattering, you thanked him for coming home to you and he kissed the top of your matted hair, 

“Anything for you.”

Originally posted by carpelunam


Is this SNL skit about Benedict Cumberbatch sitting on a toilet backwards the best use of his acting talent of all time?

Who knew sitting backwards on the toilet as the world’s sexiest mayonnaise alien could be so cool. You’d have to watch the rest of the skit to know for sure, but we’d say yes, yes it is. 

Gifs: Saturday Night Live


Evak Drabble-- prompt: Hangover

Ya’ll I’m going to be honest. This was modelled greatly on how I woke up this morning. And this has no redeeming quality. bordering on crack.


Isak does not know whether or not he is currently among the living.

His head is muddy, murky, dark and filled with a sort of pounding he had only ever dreamt of in the movies. He knew, logically, that he must still be alive, because he’s a fucking fantastic person and if a heaven such exists, he’d be in it, and there was supposed to be a nice absence of pain.

So he must be alive- as much as he doesn’t want to be.

“Baby,” he hears a gravely voice groan out somewhere to his left.

“No,” Isak moans out, turning to his side, “No baby here.”

Almost reflexively, Isak’s right hand clenches and it’s only then he becomes aware of the mass cradled in his hand. He peels his eyes open, regretting it immediately, but pushes through and sits up.

What the fuck.

The apartment is a mess, no way around it. There are empty beer cans and wine bottles, broken and leaking red solo cups scattered on every surface imaginable.

And there was an empty Vodka bottle on Isak’s hand. That could not be good. He dropped it and watched it roll to the ground.

Mahdi and Magnus were both passed out on the floor near the far window; Magnus propped against the wall, holding his own bottle like a teddy bear, and Mahdi was sprawled out in front of him.

Jonas was no where to be seen, but Isak could distantly make out his shoes by the door, so he must be somewhere.

And Even.

Isak wants to laugh if it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Even was under the coffee table, just below Isak’s position half- hanging off of the living room couch. He was shirtless, apart from a purple feather boa, and covered in black sharpie from chest to happy trail.

“Oh my god,” Isak whispered, eyeing the larger ‘property of Isak’ just above the space where Even’s abs met his waistline.

Even groaned again, rolling to his side, eyes blearily finding there way open and focusing almost immediately on Isak.

He squints, “What the fuck is on your head?”

“What?” Isak panics.

Last year, Mahdi had passed out at a party and Isak, who may have been slightly resentful of the way he so easily got along with Jonas, may have accidently bleached his hair. While Mahdi never found out who had done it, Isak immediately half- lunges, half crawls to the mirror hanging just around the corner.

His hair was fine. Flat curls and a bit greasy, but unharmed. Instead, a bright tiara with Happy New Year! and a bunch of pink feathers now adorned the mess of curls.

“Huh.” He debated taking it off, but fuck, that would require a lot of effort.

“Evi,” Isak called out, wincing at the volume.

“Did you say baby?”

Isak rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ. Evi.”



No. I can’t move. Ever. I don’t think I can ever move again.”

And he says Isak is the dramatic one.

Isak takes another step, and catches whiff of a half drained beer bottle. His stomach roils and he barely has enough time to make it to the bathroom before he’s throwing up everything in his stomach.

Fucking shit, the new year was off the a rough start.

When he’s done, he moans and lays his head against the cool toilet bowl.

Isak could nearly cry from relief when he feels cool hands running through his hair, brushing it back from his face as he leans over the toilet again.

“This fucking sucks.”

Even hums, eyes still squinted but not shaking, like Isak was.

“You look like shit.”

Isak glances up at his boyfriend, “You don’t look so great yourself. And you smell worse.”

Even lets the ghost of a smile contort his face. “Yeah. Have to say, I’m digging the ink though,” he glances to his stomach, “property of Isak’, huh?”

Isak weakly put his hands up, “I don’t remember a thing.”

“Hmm,” he couches down until he’s sitting level with Isak. He gingerly flushes the toilet when Isak heaves again, rubbing his hands over the back of Isak’s neck.

“Eh it was a pretty good night though, yeah? New Years?”

Isak groaned, but nodded gingerly, “I think I told Eskild that I bottomed.”

“Baby, everyone already knows you bottom. I promise you it wasn’t a surprise.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later,” Even heaves himself up, “I’m going to attempt to make some food. Call me if you need me, yeah?”

“Will you make me bacon?” Isak calls out as Even is half out the door, “And orange juice? And some fucking eggs? And sausage! Evi? Evi?”

Misunderstandings Pt. 5

Genre: Angst (SFW for now)

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC/Reader/You

a/n: We hope you guys like part 5! This is the final part of the main plot. It’s kind of bittersweet to end this as it’s our first fanfic. The very last part, part 6, will be almost entirely smut.  It’s under the cut as usual. Here’s part 1, part 2 , part 3part 4, part 6.

You were finally back in his arms. 

Keep reading

{ I’m so lame. i hate doing tags so they’re always basic and never clever. I’m always on mobile so there’s no formatting. I’ve lost my ability to expand on things so my replies are either short or crowded and heavy as hell. and i don’t do any play lists because all the songs I know are dubstep, electro swing, operas, and classic country. }

What else ya got, day?
  • Cool picnic event kids have been looking forward to: Rained out.
  • Car number one: Dead battery? Dead hybrid system? Ghosts?
  • Car number two: Mysteriously loses power steering and other vital systems. Now parked at a Mexican restaurant. Cool.
  • Last roll of toilet paper: Used up.
  • A weeks worth of trash: Dragged around by a bear in the night. And then rained on.
  • Baby: As reasonable as a toddler can be, I suppose.
  • Grace: Tossed a case-less iPod across the room in protest of bedtime.
  • Smash: Still pissed at me because I couldn't remember what "WIFI" stood for this afternoon. Also I don't hug enough.
  • Pete: Remarkably calm for having spent the weekend in the world of 2:1 attention at Grandma's house. But, he's not asleep yet. There's still time.
  • Beer: In fridge.
  • Monday: I'm rooting for you.