idk i write things sometimes

“Is this your card?”

Castiel watched as Dean Winchester dramatically flipped over a face card and displayed it with a flourish to a hopeful Lisa Braeden.

“Uh… no,” she murmured, her face falling into disappointment.

Dean, however, continued the routine with a smile on his face, even after he made three more incorrect guesses. He might have been absolutely terrible at every magic trick he ever tried, but at least he had enthusiasm about it.

“Strike out?” Castiel asked as Dean finally sat down next to him in homeroom and began shuffling his cards.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I wasn’t really trying. I just wanted to try the trick on someone that hadn’t seen it yet.”

Castiel smiled and propped his head up on his hand. “It looked like you nearly had it that time.”

“I know!” Dean grinned, right before a card flew out of the deck and smacked him in the face.

As terrible as Dean was at his various card tricks, Castiel couldn’t help but find it incredibly endearing. The way his face would light up when someone lied out of pity and claimed the unfamiliar card was their own was too cute for words. Especially when such escapades were coming from his seventeen year old best friend.

Their classroom was decorated with a sickening explosion of pink and red hearts that only grew more and more obvious the closer they got to Valentine’s day. Today, a few streamers had been added, as well as a cut-out of a caricature heart in a top hat.

“Any plans for Valentine’s day, Cas?”

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!!!!
Chucker/Turch soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you gets tattooed to your body when you turn 18 or whatever
Church sits at a bar downing another drink because his girlfriend- er, EX girlfriend- decided to shack up with a new mate in her car right outside his apartment. As some form of “fuck you,” he assumed it was, seeing as the break up didn’t really end on good terms.
He was just about to call over another drink when a hand suddenly pat his back and someone slid into the chair next to him.
“I know that look, bro, you just got fucking dumped, huh? How about a round on me?”
Church stiffened and his face twisted into a scowl as he turned to look at the man beside him. The guy wore a teal button up along with baggy white jeans. He had spice brown skin and hair that was rolled together and pulled back into a pony tail. Church recognized him as the bar’s flirt, Lavernius Tucker.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me right now with this dickhead over here. ”
The grin that had been stretching over Tucker’s lips faded away and he blinked over at the guy he was just going to cheer up.
“Oh. Ohhhh. Huh.” Tucker smiled uneasily and brought a hand up to rub at his neck. Trailing up his arm were the words that Church had so rudely blurted at him. As Tucker looked Church up and down, he saw beneath Church’s shorts, below his knee, the observation and offer of a drink was written. Huh. “So. Still up for that drink?” Tucker looked sheepishly up at Church.
Church glanced down at his empty glass then back at Tucker. He shrugged with a “Why the fuck not”. What else was he going to do with his soulmate in this situation? Hold hands and kiss like the stars were shining just for them? Hell no. He was gonna get drop dead drunk and see where the night takes him.

anonymous asked:

how do you choose what to write? u ever have a million plots and scenarios and themes and endings and beginnings and scenes?

i do feel like i have a ton of ideas floating around, so i write everything down. i either text it to @rogersxbarnesx and screenshot it, put it in the notes app on my phone, or stick it in my prompts document on my google drive. most things don’t get written, but i make sure to jot everything down someplace in case i feel inspired. if i’m inspired, i’ll write it.

i honestly have no idea what most of these are, but they were important to me at some point, so i wrote them down. i’m intrigued and concerned about what ‘boxing daddy’ is about. i’m scared to check.

On language

I’ve seen a few funny posts about writers and the difference between their prose and their chats or private responses, and most of them are utterly on point - capitalization is used only rarely and for emphasis, spelling is haphazard at best.

But one thing they leave out is that this private, intimate speech requires a kind of mastery of language, too: the abruptness of transition indicates a breech between ‘work’ or ‘public’ and ‘interacting as a human being.’ Excessively casual writing is a skill, and so is appropriate use of emoji: I won’t use some emoji on Discord that I do in Google Chats because the execution and thus some of the connotations are different.

So, like - and there’s that ‘like,’ that casual thing that allows more tonal variation and emphasis than just italics - when a writer’s out of writing mode and refusing to use caps or spellcheck, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they are now suddenly inherently bad at words.

like   this   for   an   aesthetic   thing   for   our   muses.

He ordered a burger through the app and in the specifications he wrote “please give me lots of ketchup oppa” and got a ridiculous amount of ketchup and he’s like how much do you usually give guys……

You know, despite all the shit I have to go through, despite how shitty recovery can feel sometimes, I’ll always always always prefer it to being so miserable and even…dead. I’ll always prefer going out and partying with my best friends. I’ll always appreciate more the beauty of early morning hikes and big bowls of fruit and yoga classes. I’ll always prefer Netflix and pizza with my best friends and going out and drinking and dancing and having fun. I’ll always prefer the rush of adrenaline at a concert, the first chord of the guitar vibrating through your bones. I’ll always prefer a cup of tea and listening to the birds in the early mornings. I’ll always prefer studying and learning and looking forward to travelling the whole world. Daydreaming about how one day, I WILL be off on safaris in Africa, camping on the Great Wall of China and hiking through the mountains of Thailand. I’ll always prefer getting into bed after a long day out in the sun, and I’ll prefer the feeling of reading a really good book. I’ll always prefer having some chocolate and watching my favourite TV shows. I’ll always prefer being the reason someone smiles. Ill always prefer making my parents proud. I’ll always prefer reminding myself that I am worth it and I deserve a happy life. I deserve to live. I’ll always prefer deep connections with people, where will we go, who will we be. The possibilities are endless and regardless of exam results or mental illness, they will not define what I will make of my life. I haven’t even started yet. I have so many things to look forward to. So many things I haven’t done yet or experienced. How dare my disorder try to take all of the beautiful and exciting things away from me. Travel, love, study, passion, friendship, life. It’s all there ahead of me. I am here and I am living and I will always prefer that.

Hope spun around with the delicate white hat in hand, already wearing his. Lightning just stared, completely unamused.

“Seriously?”

“We don’t have to buy them,” he said with a ridiculous grin on his face. “Let’s just get someone to take a picture. Please?”

She frowned, flicking one of the big, round ears on Hope’s head. “Your hat…is wearing a hat. You do know how silly that looks, right?”

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anonymous asked:

beardless

Link watches him worry for two weeks. 

They talk about it until Link has exhausted all possible outcomes. Link pulls up old pictures, says, “You made it through the first part of your life looking like this, man.” 

“But–” Rhett keeps saying, waving his arms around and never finishing his statement. 

Link gets it. He thinks if someone were to ask him to shave his head, he’d be going through the same thing. It’s silly, but that’s the world today. Everyone is so concerned with everything. 

So, when the day comes, and Rhett asked Link to come over for the occasion, he and Jessie sit in the bedroom, each drinking a glass of wine and waiting. They hear scissors first, just the slight snip snip snip of Rhett’s favorite feature being dismantled. And then the whir of the electric razor, loud and almost violent, and Jessie sighs, shaking her head. Link nods in understanding. 

It takes him twenty minutes, ten of which was probably spent touching his own face and worrying about everything. Then, he steps out. 

He wasn’t aware he was holding his breath, but he must have been, because it comes out of him in a rush as soon as he sees him. Across the room, Jessie lets out her own shocked breath. 

He looks like a boy Link used to know, that boy who used to go on adventures with him, get in all sorts of trouble and never let him take any falls by himself. Clean-faced and shy, he looks like that same boy from all those years ago, the same boy he’s always been. 

“Hey, bo,” Link says, a smile on his face. He hasn’t called Rhett that since high school, he thinks, but this occasion calls for it. If anything, the way Rhett’s tense shoulders fall and his face lights up tells him he made the right choice. 

“Hey,” Rhett says in return, cheeks red with a smile. 

Jessie says, “Should I leave?” 

“No,” they say in unison. 

After a second, Rhett asks, “How do I look?” 

“You look like the boy I fell in love with all those years ago,” Jessie says with her own fond smile on her face. 

“Me, too,” Link says softly. 

Imagine Sherlock coming back home from a snowy day. Sherlock walks up the steps into their flat, and when John looks up his heart instantly melts. It’s been cold and snowing outside and Sherlock is shivering and has white snowflakes scattered in his hair. John thinks he looks so beautiful with his pale skin and snowflakes contrasting his dark hair and coat, with his cheeks tinged pink from the cold.

Sherlock has been outside all day, and his shaking hands struggle to take off his gloves. John has been staring at him with awe the whole time Sherlock is fumbling, and Sherlock stops to look up at him. “What?” he snaps out a bit defensively, “it was c-cold out.” John’s eyes just go soft and he smiles. “Nothing. Well, it’s just, you’re beautiful.” Sherlock is stunned quiet and he stops fiddling with his gloves. He’s told Sherlock that before, but it’s new in their relationship and Sherlock always goes quiet when he says it. John crosses the room in that brief silence, slips Sherlock’s gloves off, and holds his cold hands in his own to warm them. John then helps take off Sherlock’s jacket and leads his still-quiet detective to the fireplace.

They sit on the floor I front of the fire, and John wraps his arms around Sherlock, gently rubbing his arms to warm him up. When Sherlock stops shivering, John pulls away slightly to look at him. “You know, I’ve always thought you’re beautiful. Stunning actually, from the moment we met. You’re the most stunning and gorgeous person I have ever seen.”

Sherlock finally speaks. “I know, John.”

“Why do you always go quiet when I say it? Do you not want me to?”

Sherlock looks up and sees John’s face laden with concern. “No, I do!” he quickly says. “I just never thought I’d hear you say it to me.”

“Oh, Sherlock. I never thought I’d get to say it, but I can now.” John then paces his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and kisses him. He kisses all of the unspoken words between them, all of the unspoken love and feeling he’s had for this ridiculous man he’s loved for years. Sherlock relishes the feeling of John’s warm lips sliding over his, and he understands and kisses back with the same emotion. John’s other hand slides into Sherlock’s curls, and he feels them damp from the melted snowflakes.  Maybe they’ll go out in the snow later, but for the rest of the afternoon they stay in front of the fire together.

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i came up with another raywood thing

ryan stumbles upon a playlist that doesn’t have any ‘stupid’ songs or any that he knows ray can’t mock without smiling since ryan’s determined to give him those memories that a brought up by music, like the song you danced to on your wedding night 
so it’s a friday night, and the penthouse is awfully quiet
jack and geoff are out probably on a date night, and quickly gavin & michael followed suit, claiming that they were going to the arcade
ryan sits in his room for a bit before he decides it’s a great time to spend the night with the person he loves the most, because why the hell not? with the rest of the crew gone, they have the whole city to themselves
he goes to ray’s room and hears a small grunt to let him in, ray looks up once ryan comes in, and he can see the softness and attention in ryan’s eyes. he doesn’t ask any questions when ryan takes his hand and leads him out into the living room
the only light streaming in the living room is from the yellow-orange glow of the streetlights accompanied by the soft blue glow of gavin’s abandoned laptop on the coffee table
ryan takes out his phone and turns the sound all the way up, blasting ambient music (like lose it by oh wonder or five am by amber run) and holds out his hand to which ray shyly looks at before scoffing ‘this is so fucking cheesy— i love it’
ryan pulls him close and into an embrace and they casually just dance to whatever, it’s messy and silly and slow but they both love it
ray’s enthralled by the literal stars in ryan’s eyes and ryan adores the intense love in ray’s that they get lost in the moment
by the end of the playlist since they’re both suckers for slow, rare moments like these and they’ve both desperate to hang onto every last second when they’re alone and it’s sappy as hell
they’re both tired, and ryan looks over to the clock and it’s two in the morning and he softly sighs when the last song comes on
ray rests his head on ryan’s shoulder and ryan buries his face into the soft hair and gives him one squeeze
they stay like that despite the playlist is now repeating again, and ryan’s legs are starting to ache from being in one place
he notices a dampness on his shirt after a couple of minutes gently swaying to the drone of the music before realizing that ray fell asleep on him and drooled onto his shirts, nonetheless making ryan laugh and decide that he could tough out sleeping on the sofa one night with ray as he guides them onto the leather couch
he does his best not to wake him up and curls around him, grabbing a blanket since it tended to get cold in the penthouse every now and then
ray looks angelic in the golden glow of the streetlights, and he can’t help but sigh at the warmth that floods his system before he tangles their limbs together, hands tousling ray’s hair and their legs interlocked
until ray wakes up to the morning light filtering through ryan’s messy hair and strewn arms and the smell of coffee coming and the hum of the coffee machine and probably the toaster from the kitchen
despite the smell of food, ray buries himself back into ryan’s chest since it feels he feels so cozy and safe and he can forget that what they do for a living might get one of them killed but he absolutely loves everything ryan does for him (for the most part), especially moments like these 

Okay, but i want a fic where harry has had a sugar daddy for a while, for years (could be ben, because he and harry always looks like sugar daddy/baby anyway) and he gets gifts every day, Gucci bag and Cartier necklace, because his sugar daddy is super rich and harry is a total /baby/. But he always travels and always tired and never had energy to satisfy harry in any other ways, because he just opend other company in states and is always busy and harry is always at home because ben is possesive and doesn’t want him working or going out much. 

 So harry, after lots of fighting and much to ben’s dismay he gets a job, in a bakery, becase he doesn’t have any friends and getting a job is great way to make some. In that bakery he meets niall, they share few shifts together and niall is young and energetic and very beautiful, he doesn’t wear Tom Ford suits or have a car for every occasion, but he laughs at Harry’s jokes and teaches him how to operate around the kitchen and bake their signature sponge cake. 

Few month’s later harry finds himself fighting with ben because he doesn’t pay harry any attention anymore and harry is sooo needy, he jusy needs to be paid attention and he just needs to be loved. Few hours later he’s on niall’s run down couch with a cup of tea and niall rubbing circles on his back, even though he doesn’t really understand harry’s and ben’s relationship. 

 And long story short, harry ditches Alexander McQueen scarfs for niall’s white tees, haphazardly thrown on when he’s late to work, and house with a pool for tiny bath in niall’s cramped apartment. Because nothing looks as good as love feels.

friendly reminder that it’s okay to leave fandoms

friendly reminder that it’s okay to not be as obsessed as other fans

friendly reminder that it’s okay to like things casually, you can like a book/movie/show and never talk about it, it doesn’t mean you liked it any less

friendly reminder that books/movies/shows can inspire original stories and artwork and new hobbies as well as fanart and fic and fandom related hobbies and it is 100% okay to steal parts of a story and make it yours

friendly reminder that you can be any kind of fan you want, including not outwardly looking like a fan

anonymous asked:

for the 3 sentence prompt thing: fitzsimmons and a baby

send me a pairing and a prompt for a three sentence fic

“Fitz, please, you’d be doing me a huge favor,” Jemma pleads, staring at the young man who stands before her, his face outraged and his arms crossed.

“Uh-uh, no way, I’m not letting you have any of my-” his face turns red and he can’t even get the word out, “-just so you can grow a baby in a lab and get some “extra credit” on your midterm project.”

“But, Fitz,” she tries again, “it’s for science!”