he's just so good at animating

Leather Shorts (NSFW)

Summary:  You were wearing leather. Tight black leather shorts with a black tank top equally tight, all paired with ankle boots and a choker, both also made of leather. Damn, you looked so hot.
Pairing:  Jaime Lannister x Reader
Other Characters:  Sansa Stark
Word Counting:  980 words
Warnings: Daddy kink, smut, spankings.
Kinktober 2017 –
18th day. Daddy | Leather | Masturbation  

Originally posted by brienneoftarth

Jaime hissed, taking a deep breath as you walked into the classroom and to the closest chair from his desk.

“Good morning, Mr Lannister.” You bend down to put your backpack, your eyes catching his eyes immediately.

You were wearing leather.

Tight black leather shorts with a black tank top equally tight, all paired with ankle boots and a choker, both also made of leather.

“How many animals you got killed for those clothes, Miss Y/L/N?” He questioned, trying to ignore the blood flowing directly to his cock.

Damn, you just looked so hot.

“It’s synthetic.” You corrected him, smirking. “But thanks for carrying about the animals.”

Jaime chuckled. He knew you well enough to know you would never wear any leather that wasn’t synthetic.

He was ready to sass you again but stopped when Sansa Stark sat by your side. As far as he knew, you were childhood best friends and you two were always together.

For an hour and a half, he restrained himself from staring at you too much, even though you attracted him like a honeypot. You seemed to be teasing him the whole time, caressing your own legs when he was looking, biting and licking your lips eye-fucking him hard.

When his torture – also known as the class – was over, you and Sansa gathered your stuff and were ready to leave when he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about the results of your last test.” He said casually. “Can you stay? This is really serious.”

Keep reading

So I just wanted to tell my story about going to see HTTYD2 for the umpteenth time and finding out I picked “daycare day” at the movies.

Okay so seeing HTTYD2 with a bunch of kids was actually really incredible. 

So the theater is completely packed, and I end up at the end of a row of daycare kids, right?

So we’re watching the movie, and I realize it’s enjoyable because these fresh faces are all laughing and experiencing the antics of dragon racing and seeing all these cool things for the first time, and it’s kind of fun to see a joke aimed for kids hit home with the kids - you’d hear the kids explode with laughter while the adults would just kind of chuckle inwardly. I don’t know, it was fun to experience it as a a child secondhand. 

But I’ve seen HTTYD2 before, so I know what’s coming. 

When the Bewilderbeast was killed, there was a little boy in my row who kind of whisper-asked if he was “really dead”.

And the little boy right next to me said, “Probably not”.

Probably not.”

Now that stuck out to me because, on screen, it’s so obvious that the Bewilderbeast is dead, and you see all the characters react to it. 

But this little 5-6 year old is viewing movies in a completely different way than I am. And it takes me a moment to realize that almost every movie this kid has probably ever been exposed to has been made “for kids” - which means that if there’s ever a “good” character that “dies”, they almost always come back through some miracle. Hence “Probably not.”

This little kid was recognizing the trope used in films directed for his age group, and as a result, he wasn’t affected by the Bewilderbeast’s death. 

Until the Bewilderbeast didn’t get up. 

It was weird, you could actually feel it in the room when the kids began to realize that the Good Bewilderbeast not only didn’t win, but died. 

And so, a few minutes later, you could hear a pin drop in the theater when Stoick was hit. 

One little girl in my row laughed really hard at the sight - I guess the blue-green ice piled on Stoick seemed comical?

But the minute Hiccup ran over and started pulling the ice off him, desperate and scared, the audience fell back into silence.

Valka rushed over to him, and put her ear to his chest and-

“Is he dead?”

The same kid from before, but this time he sounded scared. 

And the little boy next to me was far less certain when he said, “Probably not?”

And so, we go to the funeral scene. Gobber begins his eulogy, and I hear kids begin to cry. We see the boat, and the draped body, and the helmet, and a kid asks “Is he sick?”

And then the funeral pyre is lit, and the boat sails away, and I look around me and the kid next to me has tears streaming down his face, and the little girl who laughed is crying behind her hands. 

Of course, moments after Hiccup’s monologue, we see them flying on the baby dragons, and the kids are quick to laugh and move on from the heaviness of what they just saw.

And I realize that this is probably the first time that the majority of these kids have had to face death like this. In an animated movie with dragons and vikings, they expected a fairytale, and they got something much closer to reality. 

And for ten minutes, a theater full of children faced reality with Fun-Dip and popcorn. And they cried. 

Now I’ve read the article that claims HTTYD2 didn’t do as well in American theaters because parents warned other parents it “wasn’t for kids”, but I would argue that it was. Of course, I love the movie, so it’s for adults, too, but the target audience wasn’t me. 

Parents argued that the Death theme was too much for a young audience (and I respect parents choosing to shield their kids from death for as long as possible), but I saw with my own eyes kids realize that death was a thing that happened to everyone, not just bad guys. And they mourned when a good character died. And I think that lesson is important for kids to have. 

There were of course fantastic elements to HTTYD2, but those elements were part of a fantastic world that has always been anchored in reality. In the first film, Hiccup lost his leg because filmmakers decided it wasn’t believable that he went through that epic fight and came out unscathed. And so it was in HTTYD2.

Good people went to war, and good people died. 

And I think its a valuable lesson for children to have, especially delivered in animated form, when they can experience it with a kind of silver screen barrier between Death and themselves. 

The Signs as Cats I met at the Animal Shelter
  • Aries: Really quiet in the cage, but when I let her out she was very nice
  • Taurus: Really good with the other cats, even the cats who don't like other animals liked him
  • Gemini: I swear he's always in two places at once
  • Cancer: VERY LOUD!! BUT ALSO AFFECTIONATE IF YOU GIVE HIM A CHANCE!! LOVES TO YELL
  • Leo: If I could describe her in one word it would just be cat. She was such a cat
  • Virgo: She's so graceful... I trust her
  • Libra: licked everything! my arm? licked! the cage? licked! the other cats? licked!
  • Scorpio: Rude! Chaotic neutral
  • Sagittarius: Oh my god he's so strong... a wonderful strong little boy
  • Capricorn: Really weird meow, I don't really trust him
  • Aquarius: The other cats don't like him
  • Pieces: Very sweet! But she sat in the waterbowl

what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.

what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.

and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying. 

medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.

in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.

she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.

she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.

the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.

she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.

she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.

and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.

and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.

he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.

in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.

it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.

when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.

he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.

medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”

He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.

when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes. 

it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.

and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.

when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.

but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.

medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.

she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.

strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.

but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.

after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.

where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her. 

medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.

after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?

This is a dedicated message to the ones who don’t know why I fangirl SO hard over Jin: THE man can sing, can joke, can cook, is strong, is educated, is kind, can dance (and don’t tell me NO! if you can dance BTS’ choreos or keep up YOU CAN DANCE), is from a good family and lived in a cheap dorm and struggled with the boys when he could just get his dad’s business, is humble and never said that his parents were rich, loves animals, treat people well no matter their age or background or race …, expresses his feelings well, Is a family guy, eats well and feed people he loves delicious and expensive food, is not afraid to wear pink because he is a man who thinks his masculinity is not as fragile nor that wearing a color mostly worn by woman is a disgrace, IS HELLA GOOD LOOKING, AND NOW ADD THIS TO THE LIST: HE HAS ABS! And in case you didn’t know, the BOI is stronger than Jungkook but he let him win because JK hates losing (remember kind?). Did I mention that he plays instruments and is good at snowboarding too? Ah yeah, he does those and he can act too (BIGHIT PUT HIM IN A DRAMA ALREADY). Wait I didn’t finish YET. He is soooo good at variety shows and is not afraid to show who he is. Finally, he is CONFIDENT, POSITIVE and lLoves TO SHARE HAPPINESS & MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH. There is still a long list but I will let the ones sleeping on him digest this one first. 

Originally posted by sosjimin

orange boy bop

On an Anti binge and realising just how truly underappreciated Robin is

He does such good work with Anti. He makes the Anti vids into what they are.

Hell,he does that with every single video that he edits. He does such a good job,day in day out,and he’s not recognised for it as much as he deserves. And he manages to do this while also keeping up with his animations.
This dude has serious dedication!

So @pixlpit ,know that we all love and appreciate you so fucking much.

i still retain that the absolute worst part of secret life of pets was the moral, aka there really is none and its basically shown by the rabbits character arc. he’s introduced as a sort of…villainy antihero? he runs an underground rebellion of abandoned and mistreated animals against humans. he’s established as a villain because he thinks humans are bad and wants the main characters to join his cause, but they don’t want to because they know their humans are Good, so basically then they run away and the rabbit is out to get them.

fastforward to the end of the movie and we get a little girl wanting to keep the rabbit and this happens, turns out he’s good! he just needed to open up to humans 

partnered with the shots in the movie of fish in tiny bowls, birds in tiny cages, and a turtle in a deplorable enclosure, the movie frankly paints a picture that ‘the mean animals hated humans just because they didnt know any better’ and that people are good and it was just up to them to see it. yes thats a plot thats been done of a rehabilitated animal finding a good home,but no human was really at fault for anything in the movie. theres no lesson to be learned that people also need to take good care of their pets, every animal just needs to be hugged! i dont know, something about the presentation in this movie really rubbed me wrong way

this movie was made for people who just like to look at cute animals and frankly that demographic constantly overlaps with improper pet ownership and impulse buying..

HEY YOU! SNAKE BRO :: SAHARA THE ANIMATED SNAKE MOVIE

You like animated movies?

Would you like an ANIMATED MOVIE STARING SNAKES??

THEN I GIVE YOU Sahara

While a bit generic story wise [okay ALOT], it’s still WONDERFULLY ANIMATED, HAS GREAT DESIGNS, AND IS SUPER CUTE AND FUN!

It stars a Cobra who wants to be somewhere he isn’t an outcast, and falls in love with a green snake who is then taken away by a dude who can control snakes and makes them dance for money and such.

It’s a nice movie and deserves some love, and is a good family picture. [ It is a proper rating of 7+ if that helps any}

They have fun with the animated snakes, with cool designs and nice body movement.

Each snake has their own flare and just really nice to see.

Its really a nice movie friends Plus…ITS ON NETFLIX! So if you have that watch it! Give it a good review too!

So please check it out!

the man downstairs is very clever
can he hide his plans forever?

just wanted to do an animated tribute to “not what he seems”… still one of my favorite episodes of anything ever.

OKAY KIDS LEMME SIT YOU TF DOWN AND TELL YOU ABOUT DAMIEN FRICKIN BLOODMARCH

(SPOILERS!!!!!!!! IF YOU HAVE NOT PLAYED HIS ROUTE AND DON’T WANNA BE SPOILED DO NOT READ)

OKAY, FIRST OF ALL 

DAT HAIR, DAT MAKEUP, DAT SWEET OUTFIT 

MY ACNE IS CURED, MY GRADES HAVE GONE UP, LIFE IS A DAMN DREAM AND IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF THIS GOTH PRINCE

HE’S V. PASSIONATE ABOUT EVERYTHING, LIKE ONE OF THE MOST ATTRACTIVE THINGS IN THE WORLD IS WHEN SOMEONE IS PASSIONATE ABOUT WHAT THEY LOVE AND HIS HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND WONDER LET ME TELL YOU

This dude renovated his whole house by himself. 

HIS HOUSE IS SO BEAUTIFUL I  ACTUALLY HAD THE AUDACITY TO FEEL SLIGHTLY JEALOUS OF THIS FALLEN ANGEL

I WANTED TO STEAL HIS HOUSE FROM HIM

DID I MENTION THAT HE HAS NARUTO FANFIC IN HIS VICTORIAN LIBRARY? 

NARUTO X SASUKE SMUT NO LESS

TRULY A MAN OF TASTE

And this dude has A+++++++ parenting AND gardening skills. 

He is an expert on everything Victorian, including the language of flowers and arranging bouquets and writing beautiful letters. 

INSTEAD OF SENDING YOU A MESSAGE ON DADBOOK LIKE SOME PEASANT, HE WRITES YOU GORGEOUS HEARTFELT LETTERS IN FINE CALLIGRAPHY SEALED WITH HIS OWN SIGIL

HE OFFERS TO GIVE YOU A PERSONALIZED BOUQUET WITH YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER ON YOUR FIRST HANGOUT

GIVES YOU HIS HANDKERCHIEF LIKE SOME VAMPIRIC KNIGHT OF OLD

THIS DUDE IS EXTRA AF WITH EVERYTHING HE DOES AND I AM 10000% FOR IT, YES THAT’S SOME GOOOOOOOOOOOOD SHIT, SIGN ME UP

But he also has a sweet and joking side. Despite his Gothic persona, he is actually really scared by horror movies. He takes you out for a date in a graveyard and somehow makes it comforting, enchanting even. He’s always making jokes about things the Victorians COULD have done. 

Damien manages to handle his rebellious teen JUST FINE without making his son feel like he’s being patronized or controlled. He is diplomatic, calm, and loving. He’s a cool dad. 

AND WHEN YOU FINALLY GO ON YOUR THIRD DATE, OH YES YOU ARE IN FOR A SURPRISE. 

DAMIEN BLOODMARCH, MR. BEAUTIFUL PRINCE OF DARKNESS, IS ACTUALLY AN IT GUY WHO VOLUNTEERS AT AN ANIMAL SHELTER IN HIS OFF TIME. 

AND. HE. LOVES. DOGS. 

BLESSED IMAGE, REBLOG FOR GOOD FORTUNE

IF YOU WEREN’T SOLD ON HIM ALREADY, OOOOOOOOOO BABY, OOOOOOOOOO YES THIS IS THE KICKER RIGHT HERE

GOD WHAT AN ADORABLE DORK

IT TURNS OUT HE WAS ACTUALLY SCARED THAT YOU WOULDN’T LIKE THE FACT THAT HE’S NOT JUST A GOTH 24/7. THAT HE’S ACTUALLY A THREE DIMENSIONAL PERSON

AND THE REASON WHY HE DOESN’T FEAR DEATH IS BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THAT IT GIVES LIFE MEANING, THAT YOU SHOULDN’T LET GRIEF CONTROL YOU FOREVER

HERE IS A WONDERFUL, GORGEOUS PARENT WITH UNIQUE INTERESTS AND HE IS JUST FULL OF SO MANY SWEET THOUGHTS AND IDEAS AAGHHGHGHGH

Damien has lost people dear to him. Yet he keeps moving. He keeps finding ways to make his life interesting and beautiful. He is good with animals and kids, everyone really (except the cashier at Hot Topic). He has not let life make him bitter. I love that about his character. I think his connection with the Player Dad is really special because people judge him so quickly and the Player Dad helps show him that he’s more than just an archetype and he can be his own person. The pressure to be only a small part of himself 100% of the time was making it hard for him to enjoy his hobbies, or to feel free. And I relate to that, I really do. We all have something people expect us to be. 

And don’t even get me started on the GRADUATION PARTY

DAMIEN’S SON THANKS YOU FOR MAKING HIS DAD HAPPY

AND DAMIEN SHOWS UP IN HIS IT GUY CLOTHES 

HE HAS FINALLY ACCEPTED HIMSELF AND GAINED CONFIDENCE AND IT FEELS AMAZING

And then there is this

I have nothing to say. 

I think I almost cried when i SAW THIS GIFT FROM THE GODS

MMMMMMMMMM YESSSSSSSSSS THIS IS THE PUREST CINNAMON ROLL, 70% SUGAR, 20% GOTH, 10% BAD JOKES

I FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEEN CLEANSED AFTER PLAYING HIS ROUTE 

AND THIS IS MY INADEQUATE ESTIMATION OF DAMIEN MOTHERTRUCKING BLOODMARCH, MAY HE REIGN AS THE BEAUTIFUL DORK KING OF DARKNESS FOREVER

Pairing: Dean/Cas
Length: 2.5k
Tags: Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, First Kiss, Canon Divergent
 
Read on AO3

A special thank you to @braezenkitty for being my awesome beta <3

“You just gotta get laid,” Dean said, reseating the burger beside the pile of fries on his plate, this time with a big bite missing. “Or a decent kiss, at least.”

He crumbled a napkin between greasy fingers, tossed it to the middle of the table. Shoved his shirtsleeves up one more time as he tucked his black fed tie under the table ledge and away from the plate. “It’d loosen you up, buddy. And maybe you’d quit tryna live vicariously through horny eighteen-year-olds.”

This was because of the door-to-door canvas. The couple at the park who’d been all over each other, that Castiel hadn’t been able to stop looking at—even after the old, blue-haired lady at 512 Bakersfield Court had made a comment. “Your partner likes to stare…” like she’d never in her seventy-five years of life seen someone curious about such a thing.

If only that was the first time I heard it, too,” Dean’d smiled back from her stoop, the sharp sun cooking them both in the stuffy Tennessee heat. A marked jab to Cas’ ribs, and a walk to the nearest pub later, and Dean was bringing it up again, because, of course he was. Why talk about the case?

“I only glanced at the couple in the park,” Cas sighed. “It’s not a recurring issue. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Dean laughed, lipped his beer bottle, and took a stout drink. “Sure,” he said. “Glanced at them. Glanced at those girls holding hands last week—though, I’ll give ya that one. I gave ‘em a couple once-overs too.”

“Dean—”

“Point is, it ain’t the first time, and you’re a damn liar.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “My being, or not being with people has nothing to do with anything—”

“Has everything to do with everything when you’re touch-starved.”

“I’m not starved. I’ve been… touched.”

Dean scoffed, swirled his beer bottle. “Sure, if you wanna count Reaper-Fools-Day.”

“I’ve kissed more people than April,” Cas bristled back. “How about we talk about what you know of touch starved instead?”

Dean snapped shut, cocked his head as a follow-up comment seemed to slip from his mouth quick. He replaced the words with a couple fries and averted eyes. “Fine,” he relented around the bite. “And?”

“And… What?”

He looked back up, eyebrows jumping. “Were they any good?”

“Who? The people?”

“The kissing, idiot. Was the kissing any good?”

Cas’ heart flopped. He slipped a hand down his beer bottle, and then back up again nervously. The motion pulled Dean’s attention in a glance, so Cas tucked the rogue thing back onto his lap instead. Fingers lacing together under the shelter of the slick waxed top where no one could see. “I don’t know. Yes?” he offered carefully.

“Are you tellin’ me, or askin’ me right now?”

“No—I mean… ” Cas cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, and listened to the wood slats groan. “They were fine. They were… wet.”

“Wet?” Dean repeated. “Cas, wet is how you describe a swimming pool… Oregon in the winter, maybe… Not a kiss. Never a good kiss.”

“Then how should I describe it?”

“No, I mean… if they were wet, then they were wet—”

“No, please. You tell me.”

Dean’s face suddenly fell wide in mock innocence. “What? You want me to describe a good kiss to you right now? In the middle of a restaurant.”

“If wet is insufficient—”

“Oh, yeah. It’s like, miles of not-sufficient-ness, dude.”

Cas chewed a smile down and gestured Dean’s way. Crossed his arms, and sat back. He watched Dean waffle before finally sliding back in his chair to think. He splayed wide, elbows up on the armrests and knees hugging the corners. His face caught the dim overhead lights, and the sun-kissed healthy pink of his skin shone back like warm earth.

He had white in the creases beside his eyes where his smile lines had shaded him from the harsh afternoon sun. A little cut of tan at the bridge of his nose where his sunglasses sat after he’d gotten sick of squinting through the reflections of every bright midday door.

“Okay, it’s like this,” he said finally, tapping an erratic finger on the neck of his bottle, and pausing to worry his lip. “A kiss is a kiss is a kiss, til it ain’t. If you’re with the right person, then the tension between you’s gonna be thick enough to cut. It’s gonna feel like you’ve got a firecracker in your gut, and that other person’s just flicking the Bic. The minute the two of you kiss, the fuse lights. That bastard explosive rips up through your chest, and pops behind your eyes, and I’m talking—screw seeing colors at that point—you’ll be so wrecked, you’ll know what they sound like.

Castiel smiled as Dean came back in with a languid look, and a tongue tip between his teeth. He peeled forward, hovering over the table, so much closer than before, that there was only the dragging smell of his burger all tangled up in his woody cologne for Cas to breathe.

“That’s a good kiss,” he said slowly, and maybe it was Castiel’s imagination, but the sun kiss on Dean’s cheeks had spread to his ears now. “Sounds good, don’t it?”

“It sounds very good,” Castiel agreed. “Very surreal.”

Dean let a long, animated sigh into the room and it mixed happy with the gentle murmur of the busy forks and glasses around them. “Oh, it’s very real,” he said. “Just not very common.”

He poked absently at the pile of cooling fries, and sucked the salt from the end of his finger. The gorgeous smacking sound it made curled red ribbons in Cas’ stomach. “Still, you find someone who’ll give you that, and it’s the kinda thing that’ll right some wrongs. Know what I mean?”

Cas took a long drink, smile falling as the carbonation from his beer prickled reality back into his tongue. “Sure,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Dean’s mouth thinned, and his eyes ping-ponged away uneasy. He tailed and tacked down the waitress, kept locked on her as she floated behind the counter poking something into the mounted LED screen beside the register. “Doesn’t that rub you, though?” he asked, “not knowing for yourself. Don’t you… want that with somebody?”

Cas puffed surprised, and his mouth went dry. Try as he might, the beer wouldn’t wet it. “I mean, yes…” he said earnestly, and the admission ate holes in his stomach.

“Then… how come you ignore all the waitresses I send your way? You’re never gonna get it if you don’t even try.”

Cas was suddenly, and shamefully aware of his attention at Dean’s lips, and when Dean snagged a glance at him, Cas tore his eyes away, shoved them onto the table instead. Focused everything he had on the bleed of condensation below the cool, brown bottle to his left.

“Those people wouldn’t change anything,” he said to the ring. “Colors were never meant to make sounds for some.”

Dean fidgeted the fries again, finally pushed them aside, and brushed the salt off his hand this time instead of eating it. “I guess we better head out,” he said, flagging the waitress. “Sam’s waiting.”


They paid, and headed back out into the melty summer heat. It was sunset, but the air was still laying in the city thick as a wool blanket. Shadows stretched through the streets like plastic-capped Halloween fingers, crowding up in the alleyways and turns, painting the dingy brick walls black.

Cas flared his coat to check his back pocket for his wallet as they passed a couple people with hungry eyes, but just as quickly remembered that he’d dropped his last twenty for the meal, and let the impulse to feed them drift out. Still, he welcomed the brief breeze it gave him, and he wondered if maybe it was getting time to rethink the coat. Grace or not, he seemed to be touchier to the temperatures these days, and it was starting to seem like wardrobe was becoming more important—practically speaking.

Dean shed his own suit coat as if he’d just read Castiel’s mind, and slung it over his shoulder with a hooked finger. His shirtsleeves were still shoved up to his elbows under the blazer, as if he’d put it on after dinner, distracted. “Nothing fancy,” he murmured to his feet.

“Pardon?”

“Hmm—?” He looked over quick, eyes wide, before blinking them back down. “What?”

“I just didn’t catch what you said.”

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t—” But when Cas frowned, opened his mouth to contest, Dean relented. “Oh, you mean the, uh, thing I said out loud…” He cleared his throat, added “apparently” under his breath, and slowed down for some oncoming foot traffic.

“I was just thinking about the, uh, Nichols’ story,” he said, temporarily falling in line behind Cas as a group of people passed. He touched the small of Cas’ back out of nowhere, and kept his hand there. Cas’ chest snagged. “The alibi Brent was peddling didn’t feel right.” His voice was soft in Cas’ ear, almost breathy—but brief, and when he pulled up beside Cas again, sidewalk clear, Cas grabbed a shaky glance, but Dean wasn’t watching.

“You, uh, think they have something to do with the black magic we’re seeing?” Cas asked, and his voice managed to pour out level, despite his stomach coming off that quick rollercoaster dip.

“I mean, the house was a little much for a twenty-hour a week gas-slinging gig at the local area Gas n’ Sip, don’t you think?”

It was the most they’d talked about the case all day.

“Fancy,” Cas reiterated, then, “I certainly never would’ve been able to afford that place when I worked there.” For some reason, the comment pulled Dean tight at the joints. “But I couldn’t even afford hourly motels.”

“Well… the hourlies charge more.”

Cas frowned again, started to ask why when Dean squirmed past it. “But, you’re right,” he said. “Doesn’t add up no matter how you flip the numbers.”

“So, do you suspect they’re the source of the black magic, or victims of it?”

They hopped down the curb, checking the way for traffic, and ended up on the grassy side of Spring Street, just down from their motel. Dean popped a piece of gum in his mouth, balled the wrapper, and stuck it back in his pocket instead of tossing it away.

“I suspect there’s something screwy going on,” he said, “and that’s as far as I’ve got.”

He plucked the gum from his mouth a moment later, and flicked it to the bushes, ran a hand down his face. “Sam’s doing backgrounds as we speak. Here’s hoping there’s a smoking gun in there somewhere. But, ‘til we get that, we’re pulling straws.”

The streetlamps kicked on, buzzing like fireflies in the thick night, the light falling on the street in goldweave strings as they hustled past a defunct sporting goods store—hollow bones brick and mortar now. No one missing what used to be inside.

Dean scanned the streets, watched another few strings of dusk foot traffic pass on the left while he chewed his cheeks.

“Did Sam find anything at the morgue?” Cas pressed, because the silence seemed oddly unnerving.

“No—I mean, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t talked to him.”

“I thought we were meeting him.”

Dean’s attention caught up in a little alcove at the end of the street and he gripped his jacket tighter, tucked his chin and let a heavy breath out. “We are,” he said quietly.

“Not at the morgue?”

“Um, no, he’s at the motel,” Dean said, and he sounded nervous. “Waiting to take us.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find a hex bag, or—”

Dean suddenly shoved Cas’ sideways, off the street and into the alcove, shadows tangling up in the corners of it, all those long witch fingers bleeding to flat black. Castiel grunted, surprised. “What’re you—” and his throat went dry as Dean pushed him into the stuccoed brick backside of a closed Chinese restaurant, hands curling up on both sides of Cas’ jaw, but fingers combing a soft arc “—doing?”

“Nothin’, if you don’t want me to,” Dean whispered, conviction skippy at best. His body was hot against Cas. Heavy and hard. Nothing like April’s… Meg’s… Hannah’s…

The question—and it was a question—coiled in Cas’ belly like a fever dream, but an answer never had a chance of bubbling back out. Because a response would’ve been moot before it ever left his lips. Castiel’s pause was too long to be a no, and his fingers had already found their way to Dean’s waist. They were making note of the way his blue button down clung to his sides, like the tee underneath had been soaking in all that sudden, nervous heat since before they’d ever even left the bar.

And so, Dean brushed their lips together, not a hesitation so much as dipping a toe, and a rush of butterflies went right to Cas’ head without mercy. Cas whimpered without meaning to, and Dean landed the meat of the kiss, hands falling down Cas’ neck and dragging that unruly sensation through. His lips were soft and his cheeks, five o’clock gritty. He worked Cas’ mouth open with a roll of his jaw, and a flirty burst of mint graced Cas with the pass of Dean’s tongue.

Castiel melted into it, fingers curling around the back of Dean’s head as he tried desperately to get a handhold on something. Their hips rolled together. Cas stole himself a handful of Dean’s ass. Felt Dean hard against him as he moved against Cas’ thigh.

Dean’s breath went rocky, like he was fighting some kind of tightrope walk of heavy and thin, and the sound he made was dirty enough to sin. Castiel nosed him, combed fingers through his hair as Dean pulled back. His eyes fell hot on Cas’ mouth. The shadows ate the flush from his face, but not the burning heat of it.

“Now tell me again,” he whispered, voice licking at Cas ear and coming out like gravy. “Tell me again what a kiss feels like.”

Castiel huffed, tried to catch his running brain. He couldn’t help himself, hands still at Dean’s waist, he held him there. The both of them were hard, and neither of them were in a hurry to do anything about it. “I would say… green makes a helluva sound,” he whispered back.

He watched a wicked smile crawl through Dean’s face. “There it is,” Dean hummed, dragging a chill with his thumb from the skin he’d bared at Cas’ side, and chasing it to Cas’ neck with a soft breath, a kiss. “An’ I’m just getting started too.”

Then, he pulled away, the absence of his sticky heat leaving Cas bare. The gravel chewed under Dean’s heels as he headed for the street, pausing only to stoop for the jacket he’d shed at some point on the way. He shook it off, straightened his tie. “Let’s go! We’re late!”

Castiel swallowed, hand to his stomach, and peeled himself from the brick.

Okay but consider this:

Hanzo makes a garden at the base with Bastion because Bastion is quiet and alone too. So Hanzos only friend at the base is the Bastion and everyone is like “That poor man” meanwhile Zenyatta is happy because Bastion made a friend and so did Hanzo.

Anyway McCree sees Hanzo sitting in the garden in the middle of the night and joins him and they talk about the garden. McCree and Hanzo hit it off and he gives Hanzo heaps of tips about what to do with the plants, since McCree grew up on a farm hes like super good with animals and plants (emphasis on the ‘Super good with animals’ bc like noodle dragons later fam).

Anyway McCree starts helping Hanzo and Bastion with the garden and they become good friends. Then while Hanzo is watering the plants McCree picks a strawberry and feeds it to Hanzo. And they have a super gay moment where they are just looking at eachother and Hanzo panics because “Oh fuck i want to kiss him” so he starts spray McCree with the hose and then they both start chasing eachother with the hose spraying eachother.

You can finish the rest.

Abracadabra! You're pulling the rabbit out of where?!?!

Not really a fuck anybody but a positive story that I really wanted to share with you all. It’s a bit long but worth it. TLDR at the end.

I have 2 rabbits. I was told they were both female. They are not. Now I have 11 baby rabbits. One of the babies is quite a bit smaller than the others and he had squirmed out of the nest so he was really cold and stiff when I checked on him this morning. I was running late for work so I grabbed him and tucked him inside my bra to try and warm him up and then I forgot about him.

I got to work and was talking to my manager when all of a sudden the rabbit woke up. He stopped mid sentence and said “Did your boobs just squeak?” And he just looked so alarmed it was hilarious. So I explained why I had a squeaky baby rabbit stuffed down my shirt and then he called all of my coworkers over to come see the baby and we all had a good laugh.

He said that I could keep the baby with me while I was on register so I bought some kitten formula and a dropper and fed it whenever it got noisy. Animals are allowed in the store so nobody minded.

All day long customers would see my shirt randomly squirm and I’d show them the baby and they’d laugh. One guy saw me pat my boobs and say “Calm down I just fed you, you’re fine.” And he just looked so confused. 😂😂My manager said that if it survives it can be our unofficial store mascot and come to work with me everyday. It was pretty much my best shift ever.

TLDR: I freaked a bunch of people out with my boob rabbit. 🐰🐰

2

may I interest you in neko-mami (ama-nyan?) and megane!amami

I feel good with my husband: I like his warmth and his bigness and his being-there and his making and his jokes and stories and what he reads and how he likes fishing and walks and pigs and foxes and little animals and is honest and not vain or fame-crazy and how he shows his gladness for what I cook him and joy for when I make him something, a poem or a cake, and how he is troubled when I am unhappy and wants to do anything so I can fight out my soul-battles and grow up with courage and a philosophical ease. I love his good smell and his body that fits with mine as if they were made in the same body-shop to do just that. What is only pieces, doled out here and there to this boy and that boy, that made me like pieces of them, is all jammed together in my husband. So I don’t want to look around any more: I don’t need to look around for anything.
Abracadabra! You're pulling a rabbit out of where?!?

A positive story that I really wanted to share with you all. It’s a bit long but worth it. TLDR at the end.

I have 2 rabbits. I was told they were both female. They are not. Now I have 11 baby rabbits. One of the babies is quite a bit smaller than the others and he had squirmed out of the nest so he was really cold and stiff when I checked on him this morning. I was running late for work so without thinking I grabbed him and tucked him inside my bra to try and warm him up and promptly forgot all about him.

I got to work and was talking to my manager when all of a sudden the rabbit woke up. He was hungry and made his displeasure known. My manager stopped mid sentence and said “Did your boobs just squeak?” And he just looked so alarmed it was hilarious. So I explained why I had a squeaky baby rabbit stuffed down my shirt and then he called all of my coworkers over to come see the baby and we all had a good laugh.

He said that I could keep the baby with me while I was on register so I bought some kitten formula and a dropper and fed it whenever it got noisy. (All friendly animals are allowed in the store so nobody minded. )

All day long customers would see my shirt randomly squirm and I’d show them the baby and they’d laugh. One guy saw me pat my boobs and say “Calm down I just fed you, you’re fine.” And he just looked so confused. 😂😂My manager said that if it survives it can be our unofficial store mascot and come to work with me everyday. It was pretty much my best shift ever.

TLDR: I freaked a bunch of people out with my boob rabbit. 🐰🐰

anonymous asked:

Hey correct me if I'm wrong bc it's been literal years since reading the PJO books, but didn't Grover fall asleep for like a year before the titan war? And if so, then WHY did no-one write a fic about him and Percy bonding over losing an entire year of their lives? AND their mental bond? And what is Grover even doing these days as Lord of the Wild? I just need more Grover in my life tbh.

he did! everyone was wondering where he was and he was asleep in a tree 

………..what a good question

  • as soon as the titan war is over and percy and annabeth have sorted their feelings out, grover and percy sit out in the strawberry fields and grover makes percy tell him everything
    • “grover you really don’t need to know how many hours of video games i played” 
      “yes i do” 
  • they find that grover is still garbage at panflute, without the monsters percy’s life is relatively boring, and that they really don’t just sit and talk enough 
  • grover also does a serious interrogation about sally and paul 
  • it ends with percy bringing grover back to see sally and she hugs him hard and then proceeds to try to feed him like two dozen batches of cookies
  • grover offers to sever the mental bond a few more times but every time he does, percy pretends not to hear
  • they get a lot better at controlling it because percy still stays away from as much technology as possible
    • sometimes percy will send weird and random thoughts to grover in the middle of class and grover is just like “dude wtf pay attention” 
    • percy once tried to use it to cheat on a test and was like “hey grover ask annabeth something” and annabeth showed up at the apartment to yell at percy and then offer studying tips/advice and a study buddy if he ever needed one
    • things get like super weird when it’s two am and neither of them can sleep and they just send back strange and sometimes deeply philosophical thoughts
      • they wake up the next morning like “all i remember is peanut butter and napoleon what happened” 
    • after tartarus, grover checks in on percy all the time. to make sure he’s eating and sleeping and taking care of himself. and to ask if he’s ok, because percy doesn’t lie as well over the mental bond
  • grover has a lot of duties as lord of the wild that percy doesn’t always understand but he always listens to grover rant about
    • he’ll latch onto the little things he knows and make commentary on that and grover is like “thank you for understanding” 
  • percy once asks grover if being lord of the wild makes him a god or what and grover just lays down on the ground for a little while because thinking about being considered a god stresses him out 
    • percy lays down with him and starts talking about the new book his mom is working on 
  • most of grover’s duties have to do with protecting animals and the environment, so percy helps him set up time with rachel so he can reach out to the mortal world as well
    • percy sits with them and tries to pay attention but sometimes he falls asleep and sometimes he doodles with whatever rachel hands him 
  • it takes a while, but eventually percy knows a lot about what grover does!!! and he’s really proud of his best friend!!!
  • one time, grover is going on and on about this problem he’s having and struggling with, and percy offers up a really informed and good suggestion and grover just stares at him for a moment and was like “how did you remember that?” 
    • percy shrugs and says “i pay attention?” 
    • grover hugs him and almost starts crying and percy is so confused

the losers getting high — headcanons

• one day, down at the quarry, richie and bev make the best decision of their lives — smoking pot with all the rest of the losers. it’s a wild ride.

a) richie:

richie always calms down insanely when he’s high. the higher he gets, the sleepier too. on that particular day, he tries to show off — so he hits it a L O T. bev warns them that they won’t even recognize him, and she’s right. he curls his body up around stan, nuzzles himself into the crook of his shoulder, and doesn’t quite fall asleep, but gets really sleepy and answers any questions asked of him.


b) bill:

bill can’t not take his shirt off? he’s immediately like, “guys i’m so fucking hot” and just tears it off before flopping down on his back. he proceeds to start gushing about his choice loser of the day — bev, stan, eddie, or ben are the most common. he just goes on and on about how much he loves them, and why he loves them, and gosh he just wants to hold them and protect them all the time!


c) eddie:

eddie PUKES. he inhales, thinks he’s fine for a fat second — and then richie starts egging him on to hit it again and he’s not prepared at all. but he does, and he just blows chunks over the edge. everybody freaks, but he’s fine — he’s really fucking out of it, and won’t stop touching bill’s face and telling him how much he worships him. it’s bad. everyone considers flinging eddie off the cliff.


d) ben

ben doesn’t hit it! he promises to watch everybody else and make sure that they’re safe instead. truthfully, he’s really nervous about everybody learning lots of dark secrets about him, or something. he also wants them all to be safe.


e) beverly

beverly is the QUEEN of getting stoned. she does some hella great smoke tricks and she loooks hot. whenever she’s high, though, she either gets really hungry or really horny. there’s no in between. at least one loser ends up covered in lovebites. it’s usually richie. they always make out when they’re high, they can’t help it.


f) stan

our man stan is a huuuuge lightweight. he gets just a bit giggly, but mostly, he’s really into,,, saying even weirder shit then he usually does and feeling the texture of other people’s clothes??? he falls asleep on the nearest warm body pretty quick.


g) mike

mike is actually really chill. he never smokes (not that often, at least) so he and ben just have some good, deep conversations, especially about derry and its history. they also talk a lot about mike’s cutest farm animals. he’s just really mellow!