do or do not do there is no try

End of Message - 13x07 coda, 500 words, Angst

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Hey Cas, just checkin’ in. Wondering if you’ve got anything new yet on this ‘interesting lead.’ Lemme know. You, uh, I dunno. You sounded kinda weird before.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Cas, hey, it’s me. Listen, I know it’s only been a couple hours, but look, Sammy and I don’t have much on our end, here. I’d feel better if we were on this together. Just… yeah, just call when you get this.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“‘Kay, c’mon man. Tryin’ real hard not to feel like the girl stood up for prom, here. At least text or something. Gimme one of those dumbass emojis.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Damnit, Cas, answer your damn phone.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Okay, we’re comin’ up on two days now, man. I – I thought. . . fuck.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Cas. I thought we had a rule now. You weren’t gonna go takin’ off on us – on me, man – and tryin’ to do it all alone. C’mon.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s goin’ on, okay, I don’t know what kind of crap you’re getting into here. But listen, seriously, I don’t care. I don’t care if shit’s hit the fan and I don’t care if you think it’s your fault. I don’t care if it actually is your fault. Call me back, man. Let me help. We… Cas, we had a rule.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Okay, so what the fuck was that then, the other night, huh? Fuck.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“I’m sorry. I know what it was. I know you. It’s not in you to lie to my face about this, just to – to get in my pants or whatever. But Cas, man, I also know that you carry the damn world on your shoulders, and you think that you always have to clean up your own messes, but I swear to god, Cas, you don’t have to. You think it’s still your job to keep us out of it all, and keep us safe, and protect me and Sam. But it doesn’t work like that, Cas. We protect each other. I’ve been saying that for years. And if you think that’s gonna change now, after –”

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Friggin’ answering machine. Look, Cas, you’re either in it so deep you think I’ll get hurt if I try to dig you out, or – or… fuck, Cas. I can’t do this again.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“Cas. Please pick up.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“I can’t do it again, man. You can’t be de – gone again, you just can’t.”

//

“You’ve reached my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail.”

“I won’t survive that again.”

7

I am SO thankful for all these volunteers who are working hard to help others, and to Danneel, Jensen and Misha for their amazing charities. They really are real life angels 👏🏼👼🏼 Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who is celebrating ❤️

anonymous asked:

Do you like older!ignis or younger ignis? The question is for *cough* reasons

I love any and all iterations of Ignis because the depths of my trashdom for this man is absolute.

… however, if I did have to choose…

Look at that smile. It eradicated my existence and transformed me into a new being with its radiance.

How can a man go through such trauma, then grow up to be even more badass and beautiful than ever before???

Jesus Christ, slay me sir

You know I had to put that in there. You know it. And now, I must change my underwear.

…I hope this answers your question, anon! :D :D also wait what are you planning

anonymous asked:

Game: Uh Bacon?

( GUESS A WORD, GET A GLIMPSE | NOW CLOSED! )


“Hmmm?”

Dominus looks up from his book to see who this ‘he’ is brother is referring to. He quickly bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. It’s harder than it seems, given the scene before him.

Minimus, hands on his hips, glares up at the transom window like it has somehow offended him greatly. The light of early dawn filters into their humble home through the windows installed above the front door, casting a warm and soft glow.

Except, every now and then, the head of a hatchling pops up and the baby dragon scrabbles at the glass, interrupting the stream of light by in its attempts to get inside.

It seems Rodimus is still dead set in reentering the cottage. No matter how many times he falls off from the narrow ledge of the transom - a soft ‘whump’ and unhappy cry signalling this occurrence - Rodimus continues to scrabble up and press his head against the glass as if it’ll move for him before he loses his grip and the cycle begins again.

Its an impressive and rather cute display from the baby dragon. Not that he’ll say it aloud, of course. A mere glance at his brother’s expression is all he needs to know about what his beloved sibling thinks of the little Nyonian’s antics.

“By Scales of Primus! Looks at all those scratches he’s leaving on the windows.” Minimus runs a hand over his head if only to try and quell that headache that threatens to bother him. “Does he not know when to quit?”

“He must smell your cooking,” Dominus says in reply with a smile, doing his best to lighten his brother’s mood. “It looks like it isn’t only Ambulon or our friend down the path who appreciates your culinary skills.”

Minimus huffs and turns his attention back to said cooking, trying his best to not look flattered by the idea someone would go to such great lengths to have some of his bacon strips.

Dominus spends another minute or two observing Rodimus’ attempts to enter their home through the impossible entrance. He makes a point to wave if he sees those brilliant blue eyes peer in his direction, his heart warming up when he sees the wings twitch and flutter in joy.

When it seems like Rodimus has given up when he doesn’t climb up again, Dominus returns to his book and jots down the important observation he made:

Dragons, like any good creature, is attracted by the wonders that is bacon.

The hatchling from the pride of Prime attempted to enter our residence upon smelling my brother’s cooking. It seems he has tuckered himself out because he’s no longer trying to

CRASH!

Dominos pretends he didn’t hear his brother shriek in favour of trying to not drop his book in shock, the sound of breaking glass ringing in his poor ears.

It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath, a hand pressed against his chest out of instinct more than anything else. He orders himself to not run, to not curl up in a ball and expect a blow or worse. He’s no longer in the capital, no longer in the game of thrones and crowns. Ge and his beloved brother are safe here in the woods of dragons and fire, exiled or not.

Gathering his courage after he gathers his wits, Dominus looks towards the source of the racket with fear in his eyes and fear gives way to confusion and confusion gives way to amusement and amusement gives way to joy and this is the part where he’s unable to hold this round of laughter.

Rich and deep peals fills the silent room for the scene before him is both absurd and wonderful:

The transom and the transom window itself has been demolished, evident by the pieces of glass and splintered window panes that still hang forlornly around the edges. The cool breeze of the morning enters their home along with the light with the sounds of nature now much louder thanks to the spontaneous renovation to the door.

And on the ground, surrounded by broken pieces of wood and glass and more evidence of his wanton destruction, is little Rodimus. He who looks pleased as punch by his actions now that he’s in the house. He stretches himself out in a languid and lazy manner, his healing wings unfurling just a bit to reveal dazzling gold and brilliant red, before he makes his way over to Minimus’ side.

Minimus, for his part, is taking this well enough. He’s only placed his head in his hands so far. “Why are you like this, Rodimus. Why?

Rodimus merely chirps an innocent chirp and rubs himself against the clerk.

( a wip fic where the ambus brothers, dominus and minimus, live in the drakein woodlands where dragons roam free and even the exiled and the disgraced can find a home. it is here that their lives are changed forever, following their fateful decision to save a hatchling from certain death. hic sunt dracones, )

On Takeout and Yoga

A Thanksgiving day present for a very special @barbabangme who requested this special and she deserves the absolute world!!

Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth, I’ve been traveling since I live far from my family and I haven’t seen them or a lot of my friends in a while, so I’ve been doing some visiting for the holiday. But alas, I have made a brief return to write something that isn’t a short, bulleted, HC and (hopefully) doesn’t read like it was written by a drunk 3rd grader!

So: A reader with Vaginismus and how she tells/works through it with sweet Sonny.

hun xx

Keep reading

Life can be really stressful at times, and it’s okay if you find it too overwhelming to keep dealing with gender things. Sometimes you don’t have the mental energy to continually correct people when they misgeder/deadname you, or you can’t be bothered to educate them on your identity. It’s okay to let all that fall to the wayside if you’re having a tough time. You’re still you, regardless of other people. Be kind to yourself. If you can’t handle correcting people about your gender, it’s okay to take a break.