i need to get over it dude i'm just slacking off

anonymous asked:

Hello!!!! Your writing is amazing and your characterization is so on point I love it!!! Could I maybe request some platonic!reader headcanons with the Paladins + Allura and Coran? Like as friends not necessarily lovers? If that makes sense I'm sorry if it doesn't, anyway you're fantastic and I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

;;OMG thank u sooo much dude!!! I hope u have a great awesome day too, & tysm for sending!!!<3 

Lance -

  • Pun buddies? pun buddies
  • No one else on the castleship gets Lance’s sense of humor as much as they do, so they’d be doubling over laughing together over the same joke for hours
  • They’d be so attached at the hip that even Blue would grow to like them
  • When Lance and [Y/N] are in the same room with Keith, beware
  • Lance: [flexes] You: [gunshot noises]
  • They talk for hours about how much they miss Earth, Lance would really be comfortable unravelling his emotions with them when they’re alone
  • “Shiro, I let [Y/N] use my bayard and now the control panel in my lion is busted and they need to be grounded this instant.”

Shiro -

  • [Y/N] would be his favorite kid
  • Out of everyone, he lets [Y/N] touch his robotic arm the most because he’s that comfortable with them
  • Always notices when they’re sulking and is there to put the dad hand on their shoulder before asking what’s wrong
  • “No, you can’t make my galra arm into a cheese dispenser… Pidge already tried.”
  • He’d let them tease him a lot
  • When Shiro can’t sleep, they stay up together either reading or taking leisurely walks around the castle whilst talking about anything irrelevant

Hunk -

  • They’re always bragging and supporting each other, their friendship is the most iconic one on the ship
  • “Sorry, I’m busy that day. Me and [Y/N] are having our scheduled 10 hour nap.”
  • Hunk would make them the cutest best friend charms that everyone else is jealous of
  • *[Y/N] walks in* Hunk: This is amazing
  • Don’t tell me Hunk totally wouldn’t want to bake all kinds of sweets with them 
  • One time the mice ate their left-over cheesecake and they cried for 2 hours straight
  • Hunk teaches them how to fix things like car engines and panels, because who knows? It might come in handy someday
  • Piggy back rides

Keith -

  • Team mullets are the future
  • They’d watch movies together all the time, if Keith ever fell asleep during one he’d wake up to popcorn in his nose and a unibrow. Keith has had enough
  • They’re so jokingly mean to each other all the time even Lance can’t tell what’s a real roast and what’s not
  • “We had a bonding moment.” “Keith, I literally could’ve died.”
  • [Y/N] does Keith’s hair for him sometimes (puts it up) and Keith can’t even complain because they. actually made it look decent?
  • If Keith has been training nonstop, [Y/N] would have to physically stop him and help him to a nice cold cup of space juice and a towel 
  • Actually so caring towards each other behind closed doors

Pidge -

  • If there’s anyone Pidge can ramble to about mechanics, it’s [Y/N]
  • They tease each other lots, if [Y/N] does something remotely embarrassing, they won’t hear the end of it
  • Usually they accompany each other in the control room just to look out at the galaxies passing by, talking about Earth and their families
  • “Prank together, die together”
  • Cut the bristles off of Keith’s AND Lance’s toothbrushes 
  • Whenever something mysteriously malfunctions in the castle, all fingers point towards them
  • When one of them is sick, the other takes care of them and stays by their side all day just to keep them company

Allura -

  • [Y/N]’s the only one Allura’s gonna cut slack for when they’re sulking during training
  • Allura would let [Y/N] do her hair when she’s too tired to untangle it in the mornings
  • Together, they’d convince Lance to teach them how to knit so that they can make the mice little sweaters
  • “We should knit some for the paladins too, but make them all pink and oversized.” “[Y/N], this is why we’re friends.”
  • Allura likes hearing about Earth from them, and over time she grows to love the planet solely because of the way they described it
  • Whenever Lance starts one of his pickup lines, they say ‘no’ simultaneously 
  • When Allura learns more about human customs from them, she can’t stop giving the paladins high fives
  • “Allura, WHO ARE YOU FLIPPING OFF?” “[Y/N] told me this finger means I love you?”

Coran -

  • He, Keith, and [Y/N] ALL make up team mullets are the future
  • Coran would teach them all kinds of Altean recipes, most of which don’t even look edible
  • “This is either space juice or a poisonous drug and I guess I’m about to find out.” 
  • Someone has to keep Coran’s stache looking as clean as it is
  • The mice always try to eavesdrop on their conversations to pile receipts for Allura but they’re always talking about orbs? 
  • They educate Coran on cryptids and now he goes around calling everyone (specifically Keith) a cryptid
  • Finally Coran doesn’t have to be alone in the control room during the night because his friend won’t stop talking about Earth, and he doesn’t mind

~12x02 codas keep making me cry, so I’m offering up a happy one lmao here goes~

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering dinner.” Mary looks up from the takeout menu with bright eyes. “You can do that over the phone, can’t you?”

Dean knocks his hip against the counter and squints at his mom. “Yeah. You planning on picking it up yourself?”

“Why is it that I feel like I’m the child here and you’re my mom?” She playfully raises her eyebrows at him to punctuate the question.

Dean smiles down at the floor. “Uh, overprotective I guess. I’d, uh, love it if you went and got us some grub. Let me just get the keys and–”

“I’ll need 10 dollars. I wasn’t resurrected with any cash.”

Dean doesn’t hold back his laugh as he pulls a wad of cash out of his back pocket. “You’ll need more than that, Mom. Wait ‘til you see gas prices.”

She frowns down at the bills in her hands, but she doesn’t say anything else. As she makes her way toward the garage, she pats his cheek.

When she’s almost out of the room, he calls after her and reminds her that she hasn’t placed the order yet. She laughs and hits her forehead. He shows her how to use an iPhone. She calls it ridiculous and asks why they even say it’s a phone when in reality its other uses far outweigh its ability to make calls. He blinks at her.

Some stress drops from Dean’s shoulders once his mom is out of the bunker. He grabs a beer out of the fridge and downs half of it before joining Sam and Cas in the war room. Sam is staring intently at his laptop while Cas reads an old Men of Letters journal to see if there’s anything about the British chapter.

As Dean walks around Cas’ chair, Cas reaches his hand up without taking his eyes away from the book. Dean hands over his beer, Cas takes a drink, hands it back, and Dean pulls a chair out and sits close enough to Cas that their legs are knocking under the table.

Dean sighs heavily and leans back in his chair, reaching his arm toward Cas so he can give him a neck massage. Cas very briefly closes his eyes before resuming his research.

“How you doing, Sammy?”

From the opposite end of the table, Sam offers a tightlipped smile and trains his eyes back to the screen. “Still think I’m hallucinating, but at least it’s pleasant for the time being.”

“Did you try–”

Sam lifts his hands and presses his thumb to the old scar in his palm.

Dean smiles and drinks his beer.

“You trusted your mother to take the car?”

“You eavesdropped?”

“It’s easier than actively blocking you out,” Cas deadpans.

Dean stops rubbing his neck but keeps resting his hand on the back of his chair. “Should I have stopped her? I mean, she’s getting us dinner when she’s a guest in our home. Doesn’t that make us bad hosts?”

Cas just barely rolls his eyes as he closes the journal. “When I was sick, you let me watch Netflix and eat all of your Lucky Charms. I think you’re a fine host.”

Dean smirks at him and squeezes his shoulder. “That’s when you started sleeping in my bed, too. I think I went above and beyond as a host.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate with your mother.”

“OK, the hallucination is once again a nightmare,” Sam says seriously. He closes his laptop and heads toward the kitchen.

Dean scoots his chair closer to Cas so he can nose at his jaw.

“You don’t seem too concerned about the British Men of Letters.” Cas’ neck betrays his words by tilting to the side and angling toward Dean’s mouth.

“Too hungry to care right now.”

“You could’ve offered to cook. That probably would’ve taken less time than Mary picking something up.”

Dean stops kissing Cas’ neck. “Honestly, I thought she might offer to cook. I was about to ask her what she wanted to do for dinner when I found her hovering over a menu.”

“Did you even check to see what she ordered?”

Before Dean can answer, Mary walks in empty-handed. She stops in the middle of the room and plants her hands on her hips.

“They were backed up. Said it would take an hour to fill our order! I’m starving.”

After a pause, Cas says, “I see where Dean gets his impatience.”

“And my appetite apparently,” Dean adds as he stands. “Don’t worry, Mom, we have steaks in the freezer. I got it.”

They’ve got some onions and peppers and a freaking eggplant in the fridge, so Dean quickly throws together an orzo salad with macaroni noodles since they don’t have orzo. Once the steaks are thawed (in the microwave, but nobody needs to know that), he throws them on the grill, heads back inside and tells Cas to keep an eye on them. He definitely doesn’t waste five minutes passionately explaining to Cas how to make sure all the steaks turn out perfectly medium rare.

While he’s roasting some broccoli, carrots and zucchini, Mary comes up behind him and asks what he’s doing.

“Uh, just roasting some vegetables. We went to the farmer’s market right before…well, a few days ago. Everything’s still good. You good?”

“You’re roasting the vegetables?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And they taste good that way?”

“You kidding me? They’re amazing. I didn’t know I liked broccoli until I tried roasting it.”


Dean mixes the not-orzo salad and lets the silence sit between them for a second.

“Oh! I gotta ask you. Um. That meatloaf you used to make when I was a kid. You still know the recipe?”

Mary laughs and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “Piggly Wiggly, sweetheart.”


“I hated cooking. Why do you think I gave you PB&J for lunch every day?”

Dean huffs a laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “That’s, uh–I gotta be honest, one of the main things I’ve thought about you over the past three decades is that you’re a good cook.”

She immediately gets up and walks over to him. “Well, we’re getting to know each other now.” She pats his back a few times. “So, show me how you roast these vegetables.”

By the time Cas comes in with the steaks, Mary is cutting up some feta and laughing as Dean goes through the list of all the different kinds of mac and cheese he made for Sam when they were kids.

“He’s gonna be pissed when he sees the macaroni noodles in the salad,” Dean says with a wink to Cas and a nod toward the table.

Cas sets the plate of steaks down and stands with his hands by his sides, waiting.

“Macaroni and feta,” Mary says.

“Babe, go get Sammy, would you?”

Once Cas leaves, the conversation dies.

Dean and Mary laugh some more as they navigate around each other to set the table. When Sam comes in and asks what’s funny, they shrug him off.

Dean takes his usual seat next to Cas and squeezes his hand before they start eating. It’s his way of saying grace, which Cas finds sacrilegious. And hilarious.

Mary immediately stuffs her face and sings Dean’s praises with her mouth full. Sam looks at her, slack-jawed, but doesn’t say anything.

Dean loves cooking. He’s good at it. Not because he was trying to imitate his mom or take care of his little brother–even though those things are true–but because he just loves cooking. And that’s something he can share with his mom, show his mom, because they don’t have it in common.

After dinner, they all sit around the table and talk for a long time. Dean rubs Cas between the shoulder blades like he always does and then he scoots himself closer to Cas like he always does and then he wraps his arm tightly around Cas like he always does and then Cas leans up against his chest practically in his chair like he always does.

It’s not until Cas lazily turns and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek that Dean registers something.

“Uh, Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You know Cas and I are–we’re–we have a, uh–I should’ve said–mentioned–”

Mary downs the rest of her beer. “You had a crush on John Travolta when you were 4, Dean.” She winks at Cas. “If you want my approval, you’ve got it.”

À la Mode


Dean was rearranging the tubs of ice cream in the back freezer when he heard the bell on the door jingle.

“Jo, there’s a customer!” He shouted over his shoulder, hopefully loud enough for Jo to hear. He turned back to the pile of Cookies and Cream tubs that needed to be situated. He had a firm grasp on one of the slippery tubs, a mantra of ‘lift with your legs, not your back’ playing in his head, when Jo poked her head around the corner.

“This one’s for you, lover boy.” She grinned and nudged him aside, lifting the tub with ease and only slightly bruising Dean’s ego.

“What do you mean? It’s your shift on register.” She turned to look at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“A pair of blue eyes you’ve been drooling over for months says otherwise.”

“Shit, it’s Cas?” He scrambled to find his apron and standard issued Baskin Robbins visor. “What day is it? Isn’t it the 18th?”

“Last I checked, why?”

“No reason. I’ll be back.” He nearly skidded out of the storage room.

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anonymous asked:

How do you think would Feuilly and Bossuey get engaged. was it an accident? Maybe it just slipped out and they were like "oh. Actually, why not?"

My suggestion:

Bahorel and Feuilly are living together.  To be fair, they’ve been living with each other since well before they officially started… doing what they’re doing.  (It’s dating, everyone under the sun knows they’re dating, they’re disgustingly sweet and in love with each other but they tend to describe as a “eh [shrug] y’know”. They’re romantically and sexually monogamous bros.)  But they’ve definitely been living with each other for a few years now with no sign of either wanting to do anything differently.  They know each other’s schedule, they know how to prepare the other’s coffee in the morning, they know how to tell when the other is stressed even if they’re being stubborn and not admitting to it (cough cough, Feuilly), they even have a perfect chore system. (Feuilly hates cooking but he likes doing dishes in the evening because he finds warm soapy water soothing, and Bahorel doesn’t mind cooking so long as Feuilly doesn’t complain about what he makes.  Feuilly will vaccuum on weekends while watching TV and is good at budgeting and shopping, and Bahorel will do laundry while dancing around in his underwear singing to the radio.  If one or the other has had a busy week the other will pick up the slack… or they both acknowledge not to bitch if they both give up on chores and live in squalor for a while.)

So they have a pretty comfortable co-existence at the moment.  No major fights lately, nothing shocking, just comfortable, happy love – in so much as anything can just be comfortable when it’s intertwined with the lives of the Amis.  And then It happens.  It’s a night in the middle of the exam season so they’re both basically dead human beings at the moment; it’s like two in the morning because they’ve lost control of their lives and they’re half asleep on each other’s shoulder on the couch while the TV goes into its second hour of a TLC marathon.  Soon-to-be brides fill the screen, with their laces and cakes and unnecessary reality TV drama.

Bahorel snorts to himself, jostling Feuilly just enough that he blinks awake from his half-dozing state to see the current bride crying about… eyeshadow? whiile the groom grouses to the camera.  Also, presumably, about eyeshadow.  Why was eyeshadow such an emotional experience?

“We’d make a way better couple,” Bahorel mutters, mostly to himself.

“Mmhm,” Feuilly agrees.

“Seriously, you’d be a way better groom than that asshole.  And you’d look damn fine in a tux.”

“Would I be able to get you into a tux?” Feuilly asks, curling up closer to Bahorel’s side, tucking himself under his arm.

“Well, for a couple minutes at least,” Bahorel allows.  “Like, five.  For the ceremony.  Ten if you let me tear the arms off.”

Feuilly chuckles, and watches absently as the bride’s mother started yelling at the catering staff.

“Our friends would make it fantastic,” Feuilly agrees.  “We could get Courf to make the music playlist.  Cosette would help decorate.  Grantaire would pretend to hate it but be making moon eyes at Enjolras the whole time as if he would ever pick up on anything that subtle.”

“I could kiss you in front of everyone.”

“What, do you not do that enough already?”

“Probably not.  Enjolras hasn’t given us a Look in at least a week for inappropriate make-outs.  We should probably step up our game.  But come on, are you saying you don’t want some old dude to say ‘you may now kiss the groom’ and get to make-out in a church in fancy suits?”

Feuilly hummed appreciatively and the two fell quiet again long enough for the show to finish, panning over some beautiful shots of the wedding venue and showing the bride’s happy, teary face as she held her new husband’s hand.

“You serious?” Feuilly asked then.

“What?” asked Bahorel, jerking a bit, head bobbing up again.

“Do you actually want to get married?”

“I… oh.”  Bahorel stared blankly out as a loud, obnoxious commercial took over the screen.  “Yeah.  Do you?”

“Yeah,” said Feuilly breathlessly.

“Oh,” said Bahorel again, this time shifting a bit so he could see Feuilly better.  Feuilly’s hair was a mess of slept on curls, with shadows around his eyes and a rumbled, dirty shirt from the previous day.  He was beautiful.  “Did I just propose with TLC?”

“Yeah,” said Feuilly, with a laugh.  “But I’ll forgive you if you wear a suit.”


(you may also enjoy this post which is a different ask about a Bahorel/Feuilly engagement and wedding)

anonymous asked:

I read the derek never told anyone about kate head canon, and now I'm sad. Can I get some confident happy derek, kate never happened, being all smug and flirty and hitting on spaz stiles who just flails and keeps making an idiot of himself, and generally being his adorable self? Because. Happy derek and happy stiles. Please, thank you?

Oh no, nonnie, I can’t have you sad! Okay, HAPPY AU TIME.

“You know, if you wanted my attention you could have just called my name instead of walking into a wall,” Derek says, smirking and holding an ice pack out for Stiles to take.

Stiles scowls. “I was not trying to get your attention, assface. I was trying to, uh, well-” Stiles thinks desperately of something to say that isn’t avoid looking at your perfect ass. Stiles doesn’t remember the last time he jerked off without picturing Derek’s face (or ass) and he thought if he could just go one day without seeing said perfect face and ass he could jerk off in peace tonight, because pining after cumming is so pathetic even Scott is giving him judgemental looks now.

“Yes?” Derek asks, a shit eating grin working its way across his face, mocking Stiles. The worst part is though, Stiles doesn’t know what he wants more- to punch it clean off, or kiss it until it goes slack and-

“You are aware you’re saying all that out loud, right?” Derek says, tilting his head to the side adorably and, fuck, Stiles has never been this close up to his eyes before. What colour even are they?

“My birth certificate says green, but I usually just let people pick a colour for themselves,” he winks. “Do you have a habit of narrating your thoughts, or do I just make you nervous?”

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anonymous asked:

I want to be a scientist but I don't think I'm smart enough to be one? If I were a scientist I'd want to be like an astrophysicist or a seismologist or a geneticist but. I am v v bad at math and sometimes science because sometimes science says its science but really is math

I FEEL THIS. You have no idea. My lowest grades in high school were science and math (especially physics). I scored off-the-charts on languages and social studies, but had trouble keeping up with pretty basic stuff when there were numbers involved. I remember sitting down to take a senior-level physics test and having trouble understanding what a slope was. My first semester in college, I scored a 48% on my intro calculus midterm (and this wasn’t one of those classes with a curve). But I was willing to cut myself some slack because it was all new to me, and that attitude paid off big-time.

That’s the annoying thing about science: it’s so often presented as something you can only pursue if you’re somehow instinctively amazing at it. We give people leeway if they’re just beginning to learn a musical instrument–if somebody goes up to a first-time violinist and goes, “dude it’s all screechy you should probably quit because you’re terrible,” or finds a first-time artist and says, “your style is terrible what is that like six fingers on each hand?” we rightly call them a big ol’ jerk and assure them that the person’s learning and will improve over time. But somehow it’s acceptable to see someone struggling with a brand-new scientific concept and go, “Nah, you’re terrible at this, you should probably quit.”

Here’s the secret: you haven’t started studying math and science yet, not really. High-school-level stuff is the equivalent of learning the alphabet; you haven’t started learning to write stories yet. The truly difficult thing about science is that you’re fundamentally going to be an adult beginner convinced you’ve already had twelve years of training, and that’s a difficult situation to be in. If you start learning a language or a musical instrument at eighteen or nineteen, it’s gonna be a little trickier than if you’d learned it in elementary school. But if you’re patient with yourself and honest about the fact that there’s gonna be a bit of a learning curve, you can do damn good things.

Everyone in a science program is in that same adult-beginner boat. Some people are better at hiding their uncertainty than others, but you’ll find plenty of people who feel exactly the same way you do. I’m in a very competitive PhD program right now. My colleagues, statistically, have to be some of the brightest people on the planet when it comes to science. And I still hear, constantly, “I’m terrible at math, help me out on this,” or “wait, how does this work again?” We help each other out.

Having a good attitude and enthusiasm like you have? That’s gonna get you far, because it’ll let you pick yourself back up the first few times you fail. There’s nobody in a science program who hasn’t failed an exam; most have probably failed a class or two. Passing tests is not what makes you a good scientist; that’s not what makes you “smart”. What makes you a good scientist is going back to the drawing board after you fail and learning how to fail a little better next time. It’s right there in the scientific method. Persistence (and ignoring the assholes who try to make you feel small because it’s the only way they can feel big) is what really matters.

And if you get sick and tired of having to pick yourself up? There’s a huge variety of math levels in science! My friend wanted to study storms, but found the math in an atmospheric science program too demanding, so she switched to a geography program. Now, in grad school, we’re studying essentially the same thing (absurd math and all), but we came at it from different angles. I ask her for help on math stuff because she has a much clearer sense of the theoretical than I do; she just needed a slightly more gradual and focused introduction to the topic, which her geography program wound up giving her. We’re living in an interdisciplinary world. There are a lot of options.

You’re also in the amazing position of having a lot of resources to draw on. Khan Academy is wonderful for math from kindergarten all the way up to college-level. Most undergraduate departments have some form of free tutoring hours for the intro-level classes. Professors have office hours where you can learn one-on-one–and so few students take advantage of that offer! I’m also honestly very happy to help with this kind of stuff.

So don’t count yourself out yet! Think of yourself as someone who’s had a violin untouched in their closet for the past twelve years; it’s gonna be pretty squeaky when you bring it out and finally start taking lessons, but the fact that you’ve owned it for this long doesn’t mean you should somehow be amazing the second you try to play it. Keep that persistence in mind, focus on that enthusiasm, and if all else fails remember that there are lots of different paths that all lead to doing the same amazing stuff.