flying dirt


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Okay but mirror dragons and cat and/or dog like gestures am I right

Mirrors doing the lil butt wiggle before they leap onto their prey

Mirrors lowering their chest to the ground when they want to play with someone

Mirrors sharpening their claws on trees and maybe also soft enough rock pillars

Mirrors rubbing their head on someone to scent mark them as a sign of affection (side note: I bet tundras do this too)

Mirrors digging the ground like dogs and dirt flying everywhere



Godling had mentioned a park, so that was where to start.  The little shadow had sprinted off, guided by his Mood Ring, which augmented his sensory powers.  Still, he had to pause a few times and flicker his tongue into the air, getting a taste of the auras nearby.  He was looking for Ryou, which helped, but one he was unfamiliar with.

Finally, here this must’ve been it!  In a shadowy part of the trees, a noticeable mound of overturned earth, and underneath… well, it felt like Ryou. Probably?

“Ryou? Ryou!” he called out, immediately dropping to his knees and digging into the ground with his bare hands.  Dirt was flying everywhere and getting all over his school uniform but he didn’t care, it would reform later anyway.

i feel like my personality changes so much depending on the stories i'm taking in
  • sherlock/florence and the machine: i'm walking down the streets of london at midnight
  • peter pan/coldplay: flying. dirt between my toes. the air smells like pine and the ocean.
  • gossip girl/ed sheeran: my bitchface is insured for $5 million excuse me while i go eat french macaroons
  • orange is the new black/regina spektor: i am a fragile soul learning to live peacefully in this painful, beautiful world
  • hamilton: just TRY and stand in my way. lmao seriously try
  • supernatural/surfer blood: i am a smol demon baby in need of a tol angel boyfriend
  • welcome to night vale: crashing purple seas of weird
Request: Obsessed

Word Count: 542

Request: So, after preparing myself for Wednesday requests, I realized I would be on a plane when they open, so is it possible that you could possibly take a request now and post it on Wednesday? I just want an imagine where Dean helps the reader with her OCD. (Didn’t have enough characters for the last ask) but Thanks! It’s fine if you can’t write it, I’ll just request another day! Oh, also if the OCD could deal with hand-washing (That’s what my OCD mainly is) that would be amazing, Thanks!Hugsies!

Thank you! I hope you like it, have a lovely day!<3

You shake your head, letting dirt particulates fly in all directions. You’re filthy – it’s not your fault. The guys are just… useless. You spent all night digging a grave – except, it wasn’t a grave.

You thought it was and all of the signs had pointed to it being, but you’d dug down, deeper and deeper, and yet there was no coffin and no body. You ended up totally filthy, covered in mud and loose dirt. You decided to take first shower while the guys went to find some food, and as the hot water runs down your tired body, you breathe a sigh of relief.

The bubbles that you lather up carry the familiar scent of flowers and you close your eyes, letting your senses be enveloped in the relaxation of the moment.

You climb out of the shower, careful not to slip on the floor. However, much to your annoyance, there’s still dirt beneath your fingernails and in the lines of your hands. You sigh, turning on the tap and beginning to wash your hands in the hopes of getting clean.


“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Dean asks, walking into the room with a bag of food slung over his shoulder – you have a solid day of driving ahead of you and the two of them decided to stock up on snacks while they were out.

“I don’t know. Shower?”

“Nah, the one in this place is too loud.” He shakes his head, heading for the bathroom door. He knocks a couple of times after pressing his ear to the wood and hearing the tap running.

“Y/N? Everything okay in there?” He calls, but receives no answer, “Y/N?”

When, once again, he’s greeted with silence, Dean narrows his eyes and leans down towards the lock. He picks it almost instantly and shoves the door open, only to be greeted with you scrubbing your already raw hands in too-hot water. The steam rises from the sink and you scrub mercilessly at your spotless hands as if there’s something invisible dirtying them.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” He asks, moving slowly towards you. You turn to look at him, your eyes wide.

“I can’t get them clean, Dean.” You whisper, staring at your wet, reddened hands, “It won’t work. They’re dirty.”

“They’re fine. Come on.” He encourages, coming over and turning off the tap. Dean takes both of your hands in his – the skin is damaged and sore-looking – and gently leads you over to the bed.

“They’re not fine.” You say insistently, and Dean shakes his head. He presses a light kiss to your forehead and keeps an arm around your shoulders. You pick nervously at your hands and he pulls one hand away from the other so as to prevent any more damage.

“Y/N, look at me,” He says softly, but firmly, “Your hands are fine. They’re as clean as can be. There’s no dirt left there. I know it feels like there is, but there isn’t.”

“You sure?” You ask quietly. Dean nods.

“I’m sure. Come on, let’s get you some food and take your mind off of it. I brought cheeseburgers.”


“Sure. Best place in town, just for you.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


It was cold, you were tired, and you haven’t seen a single moving vehicle in over an hour.

Judging by the moon placement, it had to be sometime between two and three in the morning. So needless to say, it was late, and your were still fuming over your brash abandonment.

Low and behold in the distance you spot a single headlight, with your luck, this couldn’t be good, but you were desperate, and you really didn’t have any other choice.

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Space Invader, Pt. 14

Well, this is it. A simple prompt from a pal that turned into the longest fic I’ve ever written. It’s also my first Spacedogs fic, which was monumentally dumb of me, but still, I loved writing it. I hope you guys enjoyed. 

As always, none of this could have been possible without @chronicopheliac, @wrathofthestag, @plan-d-to-i or @thegnosticgospelofjulio - who prompted me. 

Catch up on the whole mess: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Chapter 14: Fucking Kiss Me Already 

         Adam’s eyes flicked over Nigel, assessing.

         “You’re bleeding.” He disappeared back into his apartment.

         Nigel shook his head, sending shards of pottery and dirt flying.

         “What the fuck? Are you alive?” Darko peered over the edge of the roof, his voice sounded tight.

         Nigel opened his mouth to respond when he heard his darling coming back. He waved his hand at Darko, signaling him to fuck off already. Adam appeared by the door with a small first aid kit. He opened it, retrieving a cotton ball and wetting it with alcohol. Nigel sat in a daze as his little sniffling cosmonaut dabbed at the scratch on his cheek and his torn lip.

         “Why did you do this? You could have been seriously hurt.” Adam’s eyes were all over his face, body tense and trembling. Nigel took advantage of the proximity to look over his darling, he couldn’t see any bruises or marks, most of the damage must have been done in his apartment.

         “Fucking worked for you, didn’t it? You show up on my balcony in a fucking spacesuit and before I know it I’m practicing breathing exercises like a fucking pussy and praying you’ll stop by to boss me around some more.”

         Adam turned his head away.

         “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

         Nigel sighed.

         “I know. I fucking know, Adam. But can you just let me say one thing? Then maybe help an old man up, because I’m not fucking sure I can stand in this goddamn suit.”

         Adam’s mouth formed a moue while he considered.


         “I want you to understand that I’m fucking shit. What I did was shit. You should be fucking furious. You should hit me and break my shit, maybe never speak to me again, but please – fucking please, Adam, don’t think for one second that this was practice. I love you. Darko loves you. Five fucking felons who would shoot their own mother to make a sale are back at the warehouse right fucking now hoping you’re ok and planning to kill me if you’re not. Adam fucking Raki is loved. So fucking loved.”

         Adam was gnawing on his lip, the hand that had been pressing the cotton to Nigel’s lip had stilled, riding Nigel’s jaw as he spoke.

         “I’m going to go. And if you can forgive me, I’ll be here, ready to do what you need me to do. Make another fucking list, we can work on it. If you want me to move so you’ll never see my fucking face again, I’ll do it. But I won’t leave until you promise not to hit yourself or break any more of your nice fancy space shit,” Nigel caught the hand that was still on his chin. The fine-boned wrist that flexed so beautifully when he was coming undone in Nigel’s bed. God, he would miss this fucking kid.

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( ♘ ) all the king’s horsemen

It had started out sounding so goddamned simple: “Chief, there’s a rogue group looking for a place to stay. They say that they’re willing to barter their resources for ours.” Aidan had heard such requests a thousand times before, and more and more frequently. He always granted the request, and for a few days, they’d have a couple extra people around camp. 

But this wasn’t just a few extra people. Some weren’t even people, period. 

“Are you the leader of this camp?” a man commanded from the top of a horse. He spoke too loudly, and his jowls moved as he barked. “I only speak with leaders.” 

Aidan tried to keep his face neutral as he looked up, focusing on a single person rather than the thirty horses and dozens of men buzzing about the field. He could already see the clumps of dirt flying up, could visualize just how much food would be going to waste. 

“And I only speak with men who have enough respect to get down from their high horse,” Aidan snapped back. He saw the offense cross the man’s face, but a moment later he was on the ground, arms crossed in front of himself. 

“We’ve come for a place to stay and recuperate before continuing south.” 

“We’re capable of accommodating you, but I can make no promises for the horses.” Unless you make a good offer. Aidan kept his eyes level with this stranger’s, this commander’s, and he seemed to understand. 

“Give me a moment to consult with my officers.” 

Aidan nodded and held a hand out, a clear gesture of go ahead. As the commander turned away, Aidan turned to the small group that had tagged along with him – surprisingly enough, it included Vallaine. “The horses may be a dealbreaker, unless they offer us a few.” 


Been in Africa over a month and decided to make a pro vs con list.

No snow
Food available 24/7 (including tater tots and soft serve ice cream)
Laundry service
Tax free income (hell yeah)
Free crossfit
No cell phone
Care packages (mad candy and cigars)
Meeting a ton of good folks
My civilian job was depressing with muchos layoffs in in the oil field.
Never messed with netflixs before.

No family for year
No cuddles
Hot as shit
Community restrooms with dirty young army bubbas
Majority of meat is over cooked
Gym is crowded
Shaving everyday
My creepy trumpet playing roomie
Walk everywhere
Mail takes 3 weeks
Broncos play at 0200 in the morning.

Toilet paper is wicked rough.

Overall this is a good place. I do miss being home and my loved ones. But it is a good sacrifice.