how narrow do you have to be

A slight deviation from my usual posts.

Grow the fuck up. All of you. Every single whining, mewling pathetic millennial on this gods-forsaken platform. What you have just taken part in (or if you’re American and didn’t vote, declined your right to do so) or witnessed from other countries is democracy. A nation stood up and was counted and a vote came in and it didn’t go your way. Clinton didn’t win. Trump did. It’s that simple. Not that difficult to understand.

How dare you blame your elders for being more conservative than you. They have the same rights as you and exercised them alongside you. You had equality of opportunity, not equality of outcome.

The same goes for people blaming white people or rural voters, calling them racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, whatever, are you that narrow minded that you cannot consider that these people had their own legitimate concerns and interests to vote for, exactly the same as you? These people who thought Trump offered job security, trade security, internal security and placed their faith in him and made what they believed was the best choice for their country? You have your own interests and agendas and you made that clear when you voted, but how dare you complain that theirs is somehow worth less than yours or is somehow evil from your perspective?

As a British man, we had a similar vote earlier this year for Brexit. I won’t say how I voted as I believe strongly in secret ballots, but in school the next day, we had students from Hong Kong saying how they envied us, being able to vote and challenge a system rigidly put in place by others. Voting is more than a right, it’s a privilege, damn near a blessing when there are many parts of the world where elections are either blatantly rigged, disrupted or just simply don’t happen. You’re fucking blessed to live in a country where voting is damn near sacred.

You whine about how Trump is “literally Hitler”. Shut the fuck up. The only person who is “literally Hitler” was Hitler himself and even he had to participate in elections (notably, he never won one). To throw around terms and compare every politician you don’t like to a monster like that is trivialising every atrocity that man committed. Oh yeah Trump said mean things, but he hasn’t fucking annexed several nations and initiated a mass murder of Jews, disabled, gays, gypsies, slavs etc.

“Oh I’m scared for my LGBTQ+, Muslim, Hispanic, Jewish and black friends”. Oh fuck off. America is an industrialised, modern, mostly secular, media dominated country, what do you think Trump is going to do, initiate a pogrom? You’re frightening yourselves over nothing. After an election, why the fuck would any new leader try to isolate entire groups and risk alienating not only other Americans, but countries watching his every move? This isn’t Tsarist Russia, he’s not going to initiate pogroms on every group he’s insulted. He’ll tone down pretty damn quickly. To consolidate leadership, Trump wants unity and order, not fucking mob rule.

And finally, how dare you even think to undermine democracy by refusing to accept the result, advocating violence, rioting, looting, revolution because you didn’t get your way and so someone else has to pay? suggesting votes should be stripped from certain groups or somehow making them worth less than other groups? Who the fuck do you think you are, thinking that your opinion or vote is worth more, infantilising your fellow countrymen who exercised the same fucking right as you but chose a different outcome?

You’re not going to live in some fantasy, fascist dystopia because there’s something called the status quo that all Governments want to maintain. People work, children go to school, people pay taxes, services run etc. None of that will change. Grow the fuck up.

Every one of you should be ashamed. In years to come, when you’ve grown up and realised how childish you’re being, you will be utterly embarrassed by what you’re posting now.

Busy Bee Tarot Spread

I made this spread for myself earlier today, I know it’s not very intricate but it is after all for the busy bee. 🐝 This spread is made with the intent to get a quick answer to a new project and shine some light on a new idea! I, for instance, haven’t been able to decide if it’s really worth the risk to drop another $200 on investing in my shop, this deck helped me narrow down my idea list to the best. 💜 

The First Card: How the deck or deity you are speaking to feels about the over-all idea. This helps them show their approval, concern, etc.

The Second Card: This is their best advice to you to make things go smoothly. Whether it’s how to make the idea succeed, something you could change or maybe how to remove yourself from it entirely, it is their advice, you do not have to take it.

The Third Card: What they suggest you don’t do! This is what they want you to avoid, this is how you stay out of harms way. If you can avoid this perhaps you can make it to your end goal more smoothly.

The Fourth Card: The final outcome, what happens if you do or don’t listen to the cards - it all depends on how you read them.

You can see some of my readings and spreads here and you can get your own reading by me here. 💖

Please stop assuming that everyone who dresses outside of the binary is ashamed of their anatomy.

So you can stop giving me your unsolicited tips on how I should do softer makeup to “look better” or only wear high waisted bottoms to “have a better figure”. Please stop.

I am fully aware of my muscular stature, broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, narrow hips, and everything else that makes me look “manly”. But it’s my body. And I love my body. And I will decorate it how I please. If that doesn’t neatly fall into your heteronormative aesthetic standards that means there’s something YOU need to fix. Not me.

On that note. Peep this beauty. Normalize this beauty. Cuz it ain’t going nowhere sweetheart 😘

how we live now

requested by @whatsernamesuburbia

the party in red hook (literally just fluff and happiness and dancing and public kisses)


When they get to the party, Lukas parks his bike against the house, and grabs Philip by the shirt, pulling his helmet off. Philip wipes the hair out of his eyes, making a face.

“I could have done that.” Philip says, arching his brows. Lukas grins.

“But it’s so much fun to mess up your hair.”

“You love my hair.”

“When did I say that?”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Then how do you know?” Lukas counters, setting his own helmet on the bike’s seat.

“Because you always run your fingers through it when we-“ Lukas places a hand over Philip’s mouth, nose crinkling.

“Fine. Whatever.” Lukas says. Philip tilts his head, giving him a wide grin.

“Embarrassed, Waldenbeck?”

Lukas narrows his eyes, grabs Philip by the shirt, and pulls him against him. He tilts Philip’s chin up with a finger, noses touching.

Keep reading

but it’s better if you do

Summary: When Louise invites Dan and Phil to a Halloween masquerade ball, Phil suggests they go alone. Dan doesn’t expect much to happen, until Phil kisses him. Now, Phil’s on a hunt to find the boy he kissed. The twist? He doesn’t know it was Dan.
Word Count: 2,345
Warnings: Recreational drinking, anxiety attack
EXCERPT:  “Well,” Dan panicked. “There are a lot of guys on this list. How are you gonna narrow it down?”

Phil sipped at his coffee before taking the list back. “I have my criteria.” At Dan’s raised eyebrow, Phil elaborated. “He was a guy. There’s half the guest list right there. And he was tall, so that gets rid of Tyler. And then, since there’s only a few people left.” Phil giggled maniacally. If someone didn’t believe it was possible to laugh maniacally, Dan was redirecting them to Phil. “I’ll figure it out.” 

Keep reading

You know what we don’t talk about enough? 

Summer. Hogwarts.

Most of the teachers live there, so whilst some of them would be visiting family and friends or whatnot, a lot of them would just be partying it up at the ol’ HW for most of the summer -

  • The school grounds filled with all kinds of wildflowers, aside from Professor Sprouts overflowing yet well manicured garden that she always seems to be in (occasionally with help from Hagrid)
  • Hagrid playing fetch with the giant squid 
  • PROFESSOR. QUIDDITCH. (Madame Hooch sits on her broom, high above the arena, searching for the snitch, “Scared, McGonagall?” McGonagall narrows her eyes, “You wish.”)
  • Flitwick playing pranks on the other teachers but no one knows who’s doing them besides Dumbledore and he’s to amused to tell anyone
  • Professor Burbage finally finds out who charmed her teen vampire novels pink, and then proceeds to help Flitwick 
  • Snape wakes up to find the dungeon a nice, light shade of yellow. No one (save two) have any idea how to get it off because, Burbage says, “It seems to be a type of muggle paint. Speaking of which, Martha Stewart just released a rather fabulous line of summer colours, you know.” To which Dumbledore replies, “Ah, yes, that Sea Glass is simply divine.” And they walk off debating the merits of various paint colours while Snape is sat sputtering behind them
  • Filch going for joy-rides on the Hogwarts Express, and Mrs. Norris playing with the string that when pulled sounds the whistle
  • Hooch racing them on her broom
  • Great Hall sleepovers. Need I say more?
  • McGonagall and Dumbledore playing magical croquet on the front lawn in with bonnets and parasols 
  • Dumbledore deciding that he’s too tired to continue playing, so instead sits down and weaves the flowers through his beard
  • Snape being as sulky as he usually is, constantly frustrated by the others’ good moods and as such spends most of the time in the (still Light Daffodil yellow) dungeons, where people think he’s making lesson plans but he’s actually just mimicking his least favourite students in unnecessarily high and squeaky voices
  • Dumbledore putting a bonnet on Snape’s head when he passes him in the hall and telling him to “lighten” up
  • The pun earned him a fist bump from McGonagall
  • the students coming back in the fall, and having no idea (Dumbledore charmed the paint off the night before the first day of term)
The Ramblings of an Introvert// Spencer Reid

Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: I am actually really, really excited to start this. It may not be the brightest thing to do considering I already have so much else going on but I couldn’t help myself. Creativity strikes when it wants to. And it’s also written a little…differently. I hope you enjoy,

Originally posted by matthewgrayistherightway


Keep reading

empathy and understanding are precious fucking resources.  the channels of connection available to us are narrow and insufficient. we can’t read each others minds or know each others’ internal feelings so have to rely on each others’ words. words are clunky and imprecise and finding the ones that even vaguely approximate half of what one is attempting to convey is exhausting. 

ultimately it can be hard to believe you are loved even if you are told many times–we need to do our best to convince each other. we need to make our arguments. we need to tell each other that we love each other, and how. it’s the tool we have to break down the barriers of human isolation which i believe are going to be very dangerous in these coming times 

AN: I didn’t realize it, but you asked for all the guys. I’m going to have to narrow it down to four since that’s just too many characters to do.

Reaper

• The moment his S/O walked out as him, he would be absolutely shocked. Then he would smirk.

• “Have to keep that one, cãrino.”

• He’d probably find it incredibly attractive to see them dressed up like him, and he would make his feelings known.

• Though, he would be more impressed at how accurate it was to his actual outfit. He might even get them to be the one to fix his cloak if something ever went wrong.

• He still finds it hot, though.

Roadhog

• Roadhog would definitely love it the moment his S/O walks into the room.

• “Looks better on you.”

• He’s more than shocked that they managed to get his tattoos precise and clean. They even walk like him.

• Junkrat would call the both of you twins the entire night, laughing about how Roadie’s S/O was mirroring every move Roadhog made. He might even go as far as to call them Roadhog just to mess with Roadie.

• He’d probably ask that they keep the one on their belly. Just to remember him.

Reinhardt

• Expect a great belly laugh from the giant man. He’ll hold his stomach and double over, his laughter booming.

• “Oh, little one, you have brought me great joy!”

• After that, he’ll carry them around, telling people that his S/O was his mirror image. He finds it all hilarious but also impressive.

• He especially loves the tiny hammer they made to match his.

• It might possibly become a trend for the next few Halloweens.

Jesse McCree

• This cowboy would love seeing his S/O in a costume that basically mirrors his own.

• “Well, darlin’, if ya want to be me so bad, all ya had to do was ask.”

• He’d love the way you would mimic his walk, though your version was much more exaggerated and comical. The addition of the BAMF belt would be a nice touch.

• Definitely expect quite a few comments about the outfit being a good choice and how it’s basically perfect (pretty much building up his own ego).

Hey Emerald, have you ever walked in on Cinder and Raven doing something inappropriate? (Asked by yoritomokenji)
  • Emerald, scoffs, annoyed: Occasionally. And to make it worse, I'D BE THE ONE YELLED AT.
  • Mercury, sitting across an armchair, playing a game on his scroll: You're the one that just walks into places without knocking.
  • Emerald, throwing her arms up: I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO KNOCK ON THE DOOR TO THE KITCHEN. HOW ABOUT THAT.
  • Mercury, stopping for a minute, looking disgusted: The....the kitchen...
  • Emerald, her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes: The. God. Damn. KITCHEN.

What’s annoying me the most about all of this discourse about season two is that none of you seem to understand why this is the way it is 

This show was created for those that consume it, like a business corporation creates content for the society they want to buy their product

Voltron was made for the fandom, and in this fandom, where Hunk, Lance and Allura are constantly undermined and made less content for, what did you expect for them to make?

Yes you can argue that Lance and Allura do have a lot of content, but a majority of it is shipping wise, and taking that away, it really narrows the numbers

Yes, I am angry too, they deserved better, but it’s not only the fault of dreamworks. In their time crunch that they had to make all of these episodes, this is what they thought would make them the most content, and if we want more Hunk, Lance and Allura? We have to start to ask why they thought this would make them the most money, and how we can work to change that. 

3

“So it’s your birthday in a few days,” Salim said casually as they ate the chicken stir-fry he’d made for them.

“It is,” Ryleigh narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “How did you know what day it is?”

“You told me the night you have way too much to drink,” he chuckled. “Got any plans?”

“Does painting, dinner of mac and cheese, and watching TV count?” she asked, eating another forkful of her chicken. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was seven, since…”

“Your parents,” Salim nodded and looked down at his plate for minute. When he looked back up again he was smiling. “We should do something, to celebrate your birthday I mean.”

“Such as?” Ryleigh raised her eyebrows.

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he laughed and shrugged. “We could get out of the city for the weekend, camping maybe?”

“Kind of lost my taste for camping before coming to the city,” she pointed out. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she couldn’t help but smile. “I know what I want to do.”

“Lay it on me,” he gestured with his fork for her to continue.

“This,” she smiled brightly. “Just this. Video games, food, you. I don’t need anything else, just this. That’s all I want to do for my birthday; spend time with you.”

“Done,” Salim smiled back at her.

This, is my favorite pic of SC. Why? Because…it reminded me how together I thought they were!!! Look at her face! The face of an angel….“Sam is pissed as Hell…so I’ll just get him home to bed, poor dear!”       Help me here, though.    What kind of people think that it’s perfectly normal for someone to constantly be in Someone else’s arms, bed, room, etc. OFF SET, while dating other people, which in Cait’s case, would have been the same SO for years?     I said OFF SET.                      TRULY…..do these narrow-minded, cranky, carnivorous, canker sores for fans , the ones who post  "you’re disrespectful to them for shipping because they have SOs", not think that THIS behavior ISN’T disrespectful, IF… THEY HAD SOs?                        To reiterate, I’ll tell you a story. A co-woker, who was a direct report to me,  got drunk as a skunk  at an office party ( he was as handsome and as brilliant as Sam).  When someone asked me “‘what I was going to "do” with him’“ some very inappropriate thoughts came to mind. But, I’m a marrit woman of integrity and of 30 years, he had a beautiful family, and I was his VP…                       so, then it  became clear to me that it was my responsibility to keep him from driving 2 hours home. I fended off every horny babe who tried to take him home, as he stood with his hand on my generously-sized  ass (hopefully to balance himself), while a gazillion co-workers walked by, as I tried to get a hotel room for him and wrest away his car keys. While I was on the phone, trying to find a hotel in NYC or Queens, in a multi-level, multi-party mega venue, he kept slipping into the elevator, going down and trying to get into his car. I grabbed our Chief Engineer, and told him to come with me, and if needed, knock the guy out and grab his car keys, while we rode the elevators looking for him. Exhausted, we sent him off to a Hilton  hotel with another EVP, and I put a note in his pocket, telling him where to find his car keys at the hotel desk, where his car was parked…..blah blAh blah( hi  @boyneriver).        Then I had to find his home number and call his wife, at 2am.    MY POINT IS THAT I WAS FUCKING MORTIFIED ….stressed,  humiliated, worn out, and pissed off. I almost ruined my beautiful shoes, having to pee so badly, but afraid to let him out of my sight, until the cab came for him.       MY POINT…..I certainly did not look peaceful and calm, cherubic,  like our beautiful Cait here,  and I DO  have nerves of steel. So,  I rest my case. So together here. So nonplussed, by her completely drunk co-star. Btw, RDM took and posted the photo, and they didn’t care…because they didn’t have SOs! 

Why   /part 10/

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7 , 8 , 9

“What?!”

“Are you kidding me…?”

“Really?”

“Why?”

Their questions came flying at me so fast I couldn’t even tell who was asking them.

“He cheated on you!” Baba pointed out.

“Yes I know…bu-“

“And he got another woman pregnant” Ota also pointed out.

“…yes…I know, b-“

“The woman he’s been secretly with is also far more beautiful than you.” Luke said.

“Okay, I know that’s true, but you didn’t have to say it like tha-wait” I narrowed my eyes at Luke. “How do you know what she looks like?”

“Well I’ve seen her before.” Luke said, shrugging.

“Luke…are you kidding me?!” You knew about this and didn’t tell me?!” I barked.

“I assumed you had already figured it out. My fault for thinking you had more common sense than what you have.” Luke said, mildly surprised. I felt my face get hot and I wanted to yell at him more, but I decided against it. I really don’t need to deal with this right now.

“Wait, so am I the only one who had no clue what was going on?” Mamoru asked, slightly irritated.

“Yup.” Ota chirped.

“Pretty much” Luke said.

“Sorry Mamoru…” I apologized. It’s not like I didn’t want him to know, I didn’t want anyone to know. Mamoru looked grumpy, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well…” Baba said, waiting for us to all look at him. “Are we going to teach Sor a lesson or what?”

“No! We’re not!” I shouted, waving my arms in the air. Mamoru looked at me, then squinted his eyes at my face.

“Hey…what’s that…” he said, pointing to my face.

“What’s what?” I said, feeling subconscious. Mamoru, don’t you know that’s one of the eleven things you should never say to a woman?

“That.” He said, getting closer and poking me in the cheek.

“Ow!” I whimpered, and recoiled in pain. I completely forgot about my injury, and quickly covered my face, eyes wide and trying to think of an excuse.

“Wait, lemme see!” Baba said and removed my hand from my face. His face went from surprised, to sad, to angry. “…is that a bruise?” he asked.

“What? No way!” I said, a little too quickly. “It…it’s…a hickey?”

“No, that’s defiantly a bruise.” Ota said, glaring at it. “And she didn’t have it this morning…which means-”

“Hickey! I-it’s just a Hickey!” I shouted, panicking.  

“Nuh-uh, I know the difference between a hickey and a bruise. And THAT is a bruise.” Ota said. “And since I seriously doubt that you’re clumsy enough to trip and fall on your face since we last saw you, someone, and I think we all know who, must’ve hit you.”

I could see each and every one of their faces contort into anger and they started putting the puzzle pieces together. I guess from how they see it…it makes sense that they’d want to hurt him.

“Well…Ota…jokes on you cuz I DID fall…” I said, trying to maintain Soryu as innocent.

“Even if you did fall, you wouldn’t have gotten a bruise like that.” Luke said. Damn this doctor!

I looked up at the guys, completely out of ideas, and sighed. “…he didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, that’s it. We’re killing him.” Ota said, and started marching into the hotel.

“For the first time, I agree wit the kid.” Mamoru said, looking furious.

“Guys, it wasn’t on purpose!”

“C’mon guys” Mamoru said

“Noo!” Desperate, I clung to the leg of someone I knew had a heart.

“Huh?” Baba said confused as he looked down at me.

“Baba! Please…don’t let them hurt him!” I hugged his leg tighter. “He doesn’t deserve it…it’s not worth it! Baba…please…” I gave him my best puppy eyes and pouted a little. I know it’s kinda unfair of me to single out Baba like this…but I knew this wouldn’t work on Luke or Mamoru. He crouched down and placed his hand on my head. For a second, I thought I had convinced him to reconsider. His face then turned dark and sinister. I let go of his leg. “Um…Baba?”

“Soryu crossed the line. He crossed it when he broke the heart of a beautiful woman and now, he’s just asking for it. Last time we let it go, for your sake. But this time…we won’t allow him to get away with it.” And with that he turned around and walked into the hotel.

I was beyond shocked. I had never seen Baba look or talk like that. He was always fun and sweet. It took me far longer than I’d like to admit to realize that they had all left and were probably already to Soryu. I jumped up quickly and began to sprint inside, when I felt someone grab my arm. Instinct kicked in and I screamed and tried to pull free.

“Hey, whoa! Calm down…” the voice said. I froze. Is that…? I slowly turned around and gasped.

“Eisuke?”

My friend while we all sat eating fries together yesterday: I know how to start riots now thanks to Avatar the Last Airbender. I could start one right now. All you have to do it pick someone up and hold them over your head and yell ‘riot’.

Other friend: Yeah? Who here can you pick up and hold over your head?

Him: (narrows eyes and lowers voice) Do you see that small child over there….?

anonymous asked:

This is going to sound awfully snobbish and arrogant. But I am struggling so much with the concept of narrowing my thesis. I'm writing a PhD and want to write about something meaningful (cue eye rolls...I know) but I keep on being told to narrow, narrow, narrow. I know this is very good advice, but it often feels like my topic is becoming uselessly niche and generally not very interesting or important. Have you experienced this feeling before? How do you get past this!?

So, I’m really mad because I wrote like a six-paragraph response to this and then acidentally hit the ‘back’ button. Fuck Tumblr for not saving drafts automatically. Fuck me for not doing it manually. Anyway I’m going to try to remember everything I just wrote: 

This doesn’t sound arrogant to me, but it does sound a little naïve. Now, bear with me while I talk about bees for a minute. (Yes, you read that right. Bees.) Bees are small. Some people are scared of them and some shitty people kill them, but most just don’t think about them very often. But without bees pollination wouldn’t happen, plants would die, animals that eat plants would die, and animals that eat animals that eat plants would die. Basically, without bees we’d be pretty much fucked. The same is true of academia. If you want to say anything meaningful, you have to know the minutiae first. You want to have big majestic bears, you can’t kill off the bees. Everybody who starts working on a thesis or dissertation wants to say something grand and meaningful, but those romantic notions will wear off pretty much as soon as you sit down to actually do the work and realize how many little things you need to know just to be qualified to attempt that. Academia is not the place for romance. It’s a place to be realistic. What kind of argument can you make convincingly in about 20,000 words? 

Here’s the other thing: Believe it or not, the ‘niche’ research is often what ends up being the most valuable. I mean, thank God Marcus Nordlund wrote 95 pages on the economy of candles in the early modern indoor playhouse so I didn’t have to in order to talk about darkness in The Duchess of Malfi. Thank God Charles S. Forker understands the Renaissance legal system in Naples so I didn’t have to learn Latin to edit one scene of The Devil’s Law-Case. You get the idea. All scholars have different specialties, and what might not seem particularly interesting to one may up being vitally important to another. ‘Niche’ is not a bad thing. Writing something ‘niche’ actually enables you to to make a sharp, pointed, and thoroughly researched argument instead of trying shoehorn a huge philosophical statement into a graduate thesis. At best it’s going to come out feeling cramped, at worst woefully incomplete, and either way two weeks before your deadline you will want to die. Trust me. I’ve made that mistake too many times to tell it any other way.

Here’s what I’d suggest: Start with one of those big ideas you’re passionate about. Feminism, atheism, colonialism, whatever. Start there and start reading primary/secondary material. (Pro-tip: Start with the most recent criticism and use their bibliographies to follow the breadcrumbs back to the origins.) As you do this reading, look for themes or trends or specific details of the argument that intrigue you. For instance: My dissertation started with the huge unwieldy topic of n/Nature in King Lear. Eight months later I’m using a very specific strain of Aristotelian ethics to explore the question of culpability for three of Shakespeare’s tragic villains. Narrow? Hell yes. But because the argument is so narrow it actually enables me to say, “Shakespeare was really the only early modern playwright (besides Chapman, sort of) who eschewed the absolute moral binary in favor of weighing characters’ actions against intent, agency, and other mitigating/aggravating factors. This matters because it’s the same legal framework we still use today, which makes it much easier to understand the plays and supports their continued relevance.“ That’s a big statement. But I can back it up because my research has been both exhaustive and specific. Have I had to read a lot of really dense philosophy and theology and jurisprudence dating back several thousand years? Yes. Has all of it been fun? Absolutely fucking not. But all of that ‘niche’ work has enabled me to present what I feel is a meaningful interpretation of Shakespeare’s tragic villains, which is something I care a whole lot about. This is a really long of way of saying: Start with the big idea and find a little idea inside the big idea. That’s how you stay excited without biting off more than you can chew. 

Make it about the bees. When you have a professorship and twelve research assistants you can worry about bears.

People who think Sherlock and Molly have no chemistry boggle my mind. Like, what do people really think chemistry is?  Are all people who have chemistry supposed to be bubbly and quippy with each other constantly, drinking fancy drinks all touching and flirting?  Nope.  Not always.  Especially if you really love someone but you’re unfamiliar with how to ACT upon that.  You’d think a site that is filled socially awkward nerds would understand this, but?

Christmas Wishes

Dean is unhappy.
Sam knows it, and has stayed away from
him for the past day or so.
Castiel does not know it, and has been invading Dean’s personal space for the past half hour.
“Dean, I feel that you should express how you’re feeling right now,” he says plaintively, his blue eyes narrowed as he focuses on the hunter.
“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean says as he rakes his fingers over his face. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“I think it would make you feel…‘lighter’.” The word is obviously one that Castiel is trying out, the emphasis on it tenuous and uncertain.
“Do you even hear yourself, man?” Dean asks. “When have I ever told you anything and felt lighter?” He’s being rude and is well-aware, but has no desire to confide in the very source of his current issues, thank you very much.
Castiel cants his head to the side, the familiar gesture almost strange to watch when placed beside the tree they’ve set up in the Bunker for the holidays. Castiel kind of looks like the angel he is next to it, the soft, multi-colored string lights casting him in an almost beautiful glow.
Dean puts the word away before he can dwell on it. Beautiful. That’s not one he should be throwing around where Cas is concerned.
Dean sighs and turns away before he can think it again. “Listen, Cas…I’m just worn out right now, okay?”
Castiel doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but doesn’t bring the subject up again, thankfully.

It’s three days later, on Christmas Eve, that Dean gets tipsy on incredibly spiked eggnog and Castiel clasps a hand to his shoulder, and he blurts out, “We got any mistletoe in this joint?”
He laughs, feeling warmth flood his cheeks and already wanting to take it back. How much has he had? Can he play this off as a silly, drunken mistake? What should he–
Castiel interrupts his frantic thoughts, “I believe we do. Why?” He’s looking at Dean somewhat strangely, now.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Dean forces another laugh and nods somewhat hysterically, walking off toward the bunker’s kitchen both to take a straight shot of the whiskey he’s been dumping into the eggnog and in the hopes that Castiel won’t follow him.
He only gets one of those wishes, though, and isn’t truly surprised when he hears Castiel’s voice from behind him as he throws back a shot of Jack, the amber liquid searing on the way down.
“Dean, do you…were you wanting the mistletoe for yourself and Sam?”
Dean whips around, knowing by now that he probably looks like a pink balloon in a checkered flannel.
“What? ‘Course not. That’d be weird.”
“Then, who?” The angel asks.
“Cas, I’ve had some to drink, you know I tend to say crap without thinking it through–”
“Did you mean me?”
Castiel’s direct way of saying the unsaid hits Dean like a punch to the midriff every time, and now is no different.
Dean turns back around to face the kitchen counter and the open bottle on its polished surface. “Don’t be stupid.”
He knows he’s being gruff, but it’s Christmas Eve and the last thing he needs is Castiel finally fucking getting it after all the time they’ve spent together, and Sam finding out and it all getting messy and weird and yet more words Dean doesn’t have the energy to put out of his mind.
“You wouldn’t need mistletoe,” is what Castiel says next.
The words are warm, and spoken directly into Dean’s ear from behind. He closes his eyes. Castiel smells like fabric softener and salt and the slightest hint of wet tar, of the air just before it rains and the silence that settles all around before the storm begins, and Dean’s been caught in its eye for over six years.
“Yeah?” He whispers.
“Yes,” Castiel says. Dean looks down and notices that the angel has gently placed a hand over his, and understands everything now.
Finally fucking getting it, indeed.


Merry Christmas, guys! 💘💘💘

A Good and Lovely Holiday

Snape: Miss Lovegood… What are you doing?

Luna: I am decorating the halls for the holidays, sir.

Snape:*narrows eyes* Miss Lovegood, the hall was already decorated for the holidays. You are removing those decorations. 

Luna: But sir! This must be a mistake! The corridors have been littered with mistletoe! 

*holds up bundle of mistletoe in an alarmed fashion* *tosses it into a much larger pile of previously removed mistletoe*

Snape: That…is not a mistake, MIss Lovegood. Put it back. You are stealing school property, technically.

Luna: I cannot, in good conscience, do that, sir. This is for the safety of the students..

Snape: *intrigued despite himself* …How?

Luna: There are three things which attract the attention of nargles, sir. Cheer, the color red, and…*whispers* mistletoe. 

Snape: …

Luna: And now, with it being nearly Christmas and all the school being so happy, why, they are all at risk! Even worse is this insane practice I have noticed recently, sir. Students are purposefully lingering underneath the mistletoe, and I swear, I saw two people kissing yesterday! Kissing, right below a potential nests of evil creatures which would steal their very hearts! 

Snape:

Luna: *points at mistletoe pile angrily* This plant is inspiring romance when it should be invoking terror! *eyes blazing* *demeanor fierce* People are kissing when they should be running! *raises fist* *majestic stance* There is too much cheer! I must put an end to it!

Snape: *peers into Great Hall, where there are far too many students experiencing far too much cheer* *admittedly sees no issue with her goals, even if the logic in nonexistent* 

…Carry on, Miss Lovegood. 

*turns to return to dark dungeons where the sun blessedly does not shine*

Luna: Oh, sir?

Snape: *looks over shoulder warily, to see Luna Lovegood setting fire to a pile of mistletoe in the castle hallway, which is against more school rules than he can fathom* 

…Yes?

Luna: *smiles* Happy Christmas! *more fire*

Snape: *almost smiles back* …Happy Christmas, Miss Lovegood.

*walks away, experiencing something which might be holiday cheer*