furtiveness

Types on a train

INTP: typing on laptop whilst making periodic furtive glances around carriage

ESFP: missed their stop, making mildly panicked phone call

INTJ: looking out of window, totally glazed over

INFP: reading a book with a name you’ve never heard of

ISFP: doodling on arm/paper/anything they can find

INFJ: headphone jammed in, eyes closed

ESFJ: has managed to befriend a moody-looking stranger

ENFP: with a friend, filling carriage with laughter

ESTP: glaring at anyone who dares make a sound

ENTJ: writing notes, completely oblivious to carriage around them

ISFJ: half-smile on face, people-watching within carriage

ISTJ: alone, checking every 5 seconds that they’re actually on the right train

ISTP: doesn’t take a chair, chatting quietly to someone

ESTJ: map open, planning out entire journey

ENTP: seems to be constructing a paper aeroplane, no-one quite sure

ENFJ: giving a therapy session to the colourful stranger sat next to them

The End of the World

12x10 coda

Long after the beer in their bottles had warmed, long after Sam had excused himself to ‘do some research,’ Dean and Castiel sat at the table in silence. Dean shot furtive glances at Castiel, who had taken to rubbing his thumb around the opening of his bottle.

The silence was deafening.

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know,” Cas said abruptly.
Dean blinked. After today, Cas could be referring to just about anything.

“My death,” Cas continued, thumb moving in slow, methodical circles around the top, “It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was rough, thick with worry. He’d heard enough of what the angel, and Lily, for that matter, had said to him. Not to mention nobody could hold a self-grudge quite as well as the angel.

“You saw how today went,” Castiel continued evenly, “You almost died. Again. Because of me.”

“Pretty sure you weren’t the one coming at me with an angel blade,” Dean replied, weakly trying (and failing) to interject a tone of humor.

Cas scoffed. “It doesn’t change the fact it was my mistake that dragged you into the mess to begin with. It was my mistake Lily Sunders was dragged into it too and…” he paused, thumb on the edge of the rim, balancing over a precipice it seemed. Cas sighed, his hand fell away from the bottle. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing for you if I was gone.”

The floor seemed to fall away and Dean had to stifle a gasp. He’d spent most of his time nursing a not-so-subtle anger at Cas and when Cas had returned it, Dean had taken that as a sign that Cas was fine. And yeah, Cas offering to let Lily take him down would have been worrisome, but Cas was smart, he was kind, he was just saying what she needed to hear…wasn’t he?

Castiel proffered a small smile, looking up at Dean at last. “At least you wouldn’t have to worry about my stupid ideas anymore, right?"  

It’s said with some humor, like Cas expects Dean to agree and smile right alongside him. Dean just felt sick to his stomach. Taking a shaky breath, Dean stood. Made his way to Cas. Knelt at the angel’s feet, anchoring himself by putting both hands on Cas’ knees as he looked into the angel–his angel’s eyes.

"I would never recover.”

Cas blinked. “What?”

“If you die, man. I…I wouldn’t recover.”

Castiel sat frozen in place, his hand still next to the empty beer bottle.

“It might not be the end of the world, but it would be the end of my world. Cas, I had to face that today, with the banishing symbol and you have no idea–” Dean was breathless now, trying to say the things he could rarely bring himself to even admit, “I know the angels say we treat you bad. And I–I do and I’m sorry, man, but I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Hanging his head, Dean tried to say the other things, the other, far more secret words. The sort of words that the angels would likely claim corrupted Castiel beyond repair. So he wouldn’t say them. He couldn’t. A silent I love you was all he could give Cas.

But as he struggled, a strange thing happened. The faintest of touches on his hands. Dean looked down, really looked, to see Castiel’s hands hovering over his own. They locked eyes. Castiel let his hands drop firmly atop Dean’s.

“You’re worth falling for, you know.”

I love you too.

heart on your sleeve

Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays! This was written as a @swawesomesanta gift for @luckiedee​ who asked for some fluffy zimbits, with a trope or two thrown in. I’ve wanted to do a good Soulmates AU forever, so I hope you like it!! <3 Thanks to @lydia-st-james for mucho story support and beta services. Any wonky tense shifts are mine and I’m eternally sorry.

Read on ao3!


heart on your sleeve


Bitty had never met someone with a soulmark before he came to Samwell. Or maybe he had, but just didn’t know it. Once, in a furtive Google session, he’d discovered that there was a single registered soulmark artist in Georgia, based out of Atlanta, but in his junior year of high school, long before he was able to put his plan of sneaking off to go see her in motion, soulmark application was outlawed by the state legislature and that put an end to it.

He saw his first soulmark in the locker room at Faber, a few days into his first semester at Samwell, which seemed like a good omen if Bitty were the type to believe in omens. (He was, although he would never tell his Mama.) It was on the back of Justin - Bro, call me Ransom - Oluransi’s neck and was a strange mess of lines and ink that meant it hadn’t settled yet. Bitty wondered if it was new. He snuck glances at it when he was sure it was safe and no one seemed to catch him, but he didn’t make a habit of it. He knew the danger of looking too long in the locker room.

Bitty never brought it up himself, but whenever the topic was mentioned, he would always scoot his chair a little closer as the upperclassmen talked about the soulmarks. Ransom wasn’t the only one with a soulmark, as it turned out. The senior goalie Johnson had one as well and what’s more, it was settled. It was a polar bear, splashed with blue and purple and bright on his thigh. Bitty nearly fainted with excitement the first time he met Johnson’s girlfriend after a game and the same bear poked out from her shoulder under a tank top.

Keep reading

John fantasizing about what he’d do with Sherlock if he actually managed to get him in bed is so not haxxrdcore at all dhkdsjdhd. It’s literally just John zoning out for 45 minutes and sad wanking to the idea of like… Being affectionate and gentle and putting his hands in his hair?? And being responsible for pushing Sherlock beyond cohesive thought, by just making him feel really good?? Lol.

On second thought, maybe Jasper was stationed here, at least for some time. Maybe her treatment of Amethyst came from 5,000 years of pent up frustration from having to work with these “inferior” gems. Five thousand years of Holly Blue blaming her for everything that could possibly go wrong with this station. Five thousand years of knowing that she could be doing so much more than this. Five thousand years of having to look at those hideous loincloths

Then something happens.

Word reaches the Zoo that Yellow Diamond is looking for gems with experience on earth. A routine maintenance check has been encountering problems and has requested an escort. More incompetence from another flawed gem. Nonetheless, this is an opportunity that Jasper can’t afford to pass up. Her transfer is accepted, and she is officially put under the command of Yellow Diamond.

The trip to earth is uneventful. The Peridot remains professional, despite her many screw ups that necessitated this trip. The Lazuli is unusually quiet. Sometimes, Jasper catches her making furtive looks all around her, as if looking for an escape. Jasper makes it a point to keep a close eye on that one. Nothing that spent so much time on earth could possibly be good. Nothing except Jasper herself of course.

After all that built up tension, their arrival turns out to be underwhelming. The much vaunted “resurgence” of the Crystal Gems proves to be no more than a defective pearl, a needless fusion, and… an overcooked Amethyst? What’s she doing here? Weren’t all the quartzes from the Prime Kindergarten rounded up and put on duty at the Zoo? No matter. Even if she were twice as strong as that diminutive Carnelian back home, she’d still be no threat. 

And of course, there’s no Holly Blue here to stop Jasper from doing what she should have done to those Beta Garden rejects a long time ago…

Drarry: Morse Code

• Harry teaches Draco morse code once they start seeing each other 
• they sit in class just tapping and scratching away with their quills but nobody thinks twice about it because everyone has tics coming up to exams
• until Hermione realises that it never happens at the same time, almost as if they’re playing tag team in making nonsensical patterns
• over the next few days she studies them closely, noticing the furtive glances and hidden sniggers
• so she hits the library but finds nothing that could explain the situation
• she tries hard to concentrate in potions the next day but is distracted and frustrated by the renewed tapping coming from Harry’s bench next to her
• then she hears it: tap tap tap, scratch scratch scratch, tap tap tap
• looking up at Draco she sees him roll his eyes and try to hide a smile
ah
• so Hermione teaches herself morse code just to double check that her instincts were correct
• and of course she was
• anyways fast forward to when Harry comes out
• they’re the last ones up in the common room and Harry has never been good at keeping secrets from those two so it just bursts out
• Ron takes a few moments to mull it over and, as Harry ensures him he won’t make any advances, Ron grins and gives him a hug because of course he’s supportive, he’s Ron fucking Weasley
• meanwhile Hermione has been awfully quiet so Harry asks if she has anything to say 
• without speaking she picks up her quill and looking Harry dead in the eye goes scratch tap, scratch scratch scratch…
• NO

a poet
and their words

oh, what a suffering death
and an abundant life
this furtive multitude
of polar opposites
for it is known
that while a poem penned
can be their greatest joy
it could also be
their source of strife

appearing even
at the best of times
with the most radiant
illuminating light
yet at other times
they remain trapped
held captive in the dark
as useless as a lantern
hidden out of sight

Sigh’
these words
Oh, these words
are the poets every wound
exposed to all
yet, the very breeze
that brings them healing
it is their deepest bleeding gash
but better still
can be the scab coagulating

for truthfully
my dearest friend
and lover
of the written word
it is the very poison
that festers within them
as well as the only cure
they need to drink
it is their sweetest truth
humbly revealed
and the bitter lies exposed
on which they chew
and think

these words
Oh, these words
for these words you see
and come to read
are to the poets’
their most prized
and fruitful blessing
of a talent freely gifted
yet, they are
the heaviest weight
that they must carry
this most brilliant burden
of a curse
never lifted


-Brie

Photo of Anne Hathaway as Jane Austen in Becoming Jane (2007)

Scribble-Doodle: Wet Secrets

Based on the promo pics from 208. Yes, 208! Alec and Maia and wet secrets.


“What can I get you?” asks the girl behind the bar - Maia - with a wide smile. 

The party is in full swing and Alec decided to finally get a refill - if he held an empty glass in his hand for a minute longer, it would start looking suspicious.

Peering around furtively, Alec leans over the bar to request quietly, “I’ll have the special from the fridge.”

Maia raises an eyebrow. “O-kay,” she replies, drawing the word out, probably wondering what kind of a “special” he could mean, considering that there are vampires standing over by the door, sipping O-negative. 

Bending down, she opens the mini-fridge. And then she pauses. And then she stares. And then she looks up. “There’s just cranberry juice in here,” she points out.

Alec nods, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I don’t really… like alcohol,” he mutters, “that’s why I… uh.” He waves his empty wine glass. “Cranberries are good for your kidneys,” he informs her helpfully.

Grinning, Maia takes his glass and fills it with the juice out of anyone’s sight. When she straightens up again and hands him back his glass, she winks. “Your secret is safe with me,” she promises quietly. 

Alec smiles, startled, then he grins, too. “Thank you,” he whispers back. And then he goes back to mingling. He and his boyfriend are hosting a party, after all!