“Kill your curiosity. Kiss me already.” - Nishat Ahmed (x)
Castiel sighs as the feeling starts up again.
“This again,” he mutters in annoyance, hoping it won’t take too long to notch down to ‘normal’ amounts.
Cas has long since been able to deal with Dean’s longing. At first, it was horribly disorienting but soon enough he had gotten used to carrying on like it wasn’t even there, like tuning out background noise as he waited for Dean to make a move.
However, lately, Dean’s longing had kept surging sporadically and Cas was back to being disorientated whenever the levels of Dean’s longing fluctuated.
When this particular surge doesn’t go back to its usual level no matter how long Cas stays, (not that Cas is complaining about spending time at the Bunker or near Dean; he likes the Bunker and is in love with Dean, anyway) he decides he’s had enough.
He corners Dean in the kitchen one day and growls, “Dean.”
Dean turns - a picture of nonchalance - and asks what’s up.
“What’s up?!” Cas cries a little hysterically. “What’s up is your longing!”
“My what?” Dean chokes out, eyes widening in horror.
“I have had it up to here with you and your longing,” Cas tells him. “Kill your curiosity and kiss me already.”
Dean just stands there, gaping at him.
“You’ve known all this time,” he gets out eventually.
It’s not a question but Cas nods in confirmation.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dean asks, frowning.
Cas deflates a little now, irritation leaving him in a whoosh.
“There was always something in the way: the Apocalypse, the civil war in Heaven, the amnesia, Purgatory, Naomi-”
“Okay, okay,” Dean interjects. “You don’t have to list out all the crap we’ve been through.”
Cas’ lips quirk into a sad smile before turning into a teasing one. “There was also you coming to terms with it and that took long enough, you emotionally constipated… assbutt.”
“Ugh, Cas,” Dean groans. “Assbutt is the worst insult ever.”
“It’s still an insult.”
“Sometimes-” Dean huffs “-you’re so frustrating I don’t even know why I’m in love with you.”
“You’re frustrating,” Cas says lamely, as he rolls his eyes at Dean. “I thought I told you to kiss me.”
“You always gonna be this bossy?” Dean teases even as he moves to close the distance between them and finally kisses Castiel.
ok but i been thinkin more abt inosaku and when sakura realizes shes got a huge gay crush on ino, she has a goddamn CRISIS bc suddenly everything MAKES SENSE but she feels like theres nothing she can do about it, its too late and theyve known each other for too long and thisnis beyond friendzoned, this is str8 rival zoned. shes just happy to b w ino as her friend tho and when they hang out she spends more time noticing how gorgeous ino’s hair and how much she loves when ino laughs.
meanwhile ino’s known shes gay for sakura way longer and suddenly starts noticing that sakuras getting blushy way more often and how her hands always linger when shes nudging ino and ino Wants To Die
A/N: I’ve been gone a while, but I’m slowly coming back. The muse just wasn’t there, ya know? Anywho, this is hella short but here goes nothing!
It was too late by the time Dean got there. He’d come straight from the church at the sound of hysteria in Sam’s voice. His eyes went wide at the sight of her. His beloved Impala was upside down, two tires gone, one flat and still smoking. What was left of his baby was an empty smoldering shell, but that wasn’t important now. Sam was on his butt on the shoulder of the deserted road, just this side of the lane, his head in his hands, but otherwise looking unhurt.
The borrowed car, a random pick from the bunker’s garage, screeched to a halt at the crash site, and Dean was out and with Sam before the EMT’s could stop him.
“Sam! Sammy buddy are you okay?” panic laced every syllable, and he took Sam’s face in his hands, forcing him to look up.
Dean kneeled in front of him, not caring about if his suit got dirty or ripped. “Sam! Talk to me!” Dean shook his shoulders, aggravation taking over, even though he didn’t mean it to. “Please! What happened?”
Sam took a shuddering breath, and Dean hated how his little brother’s voice broke. “There was an…an oncoming car, I wasn’t paying attention…” fresh tears made their way down Sam’s cheeks, and Dean reached out to swipe them away, smoothing his hair back from his face. Bits of broken glass fell from his locks and if Dean hadn’t been so heartbroken for him he might’ve laughed.
He glanced over at the car again, ‘JUST MARRIED’ written on the shattered windshield, the previously white lettering black from smoke. Dean had to look away when his eyes caught the blood stain on the pavement, and he found himself checking Sam for injury. “Are you hurt?”
Sam started to cry, really cry, and Dean finally understood as his brother let out heaving sobs that shook his chest and shoulders, and Dean did the only thing he could do for him; pull him into a hug and try to calm him as tears stung his own eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, Sam, I’m here. Let it out.”
“Dean she-” Sam hiccupped, and Dean clenched his teeth together to keep from breaking down, needing to be strong for his brother. “The last thing I heard was her scream,” Sam clung to his brother like a child, still covered in his wife’s blood but not caring. “I should’ve been paying more attention!”
“Sammy, c’mon, man, you can’t think like that,”
Dean patted his back in a vain attempt to calm him. “Bad shit happens all the time, okay?” he blinked and felt hot tears fall down his face. “To good people, and this was just one of those bad things. C’mon, little brother. Let’s get you home, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”
It took everything Dean had, but he pulled his baby brother to his feet and hauled him away from the wreckage. A million and one thoughts and emotions ran through Dean’s mind, but he kept coming back to Sam.
Sam and his broken dreams, years of guilt finally erased, only to be heaped back on him all over again.
Sam, who’s heart was heavier than his body.
“‘S gonna be okay, Sam.” Dean murmured, knowing nothing he could say would help, but there was one thing he could do: be there for him. Now more than ever.
Merthur AU: Merlin has been in love with Arthur for a long time and Arthur figured out, but was a bit of an asshole to Merlin. The truth is that he was too scared of admitting the truth and didn’t know how to deal with these scary feelings he had too. Until him and Merlin got into a huge fight and Arthur got scared of losing him. I’M SORRY FOR THE TYPO IN THE FIRST GIF.
I’ve been a huge fan of @spacehamsterg and @peanutbuttergamer for a long time, and their Let’s Plays" on PBG Gameplay give me life. Their Super Mario 3D World and Snipperclips videos are some of my favorites, and I just wanted to draw a little something cute (Apologizes for not finishing the background) Hope you enjoy it, and thank you guys for making such awesome content
Summary: Its past midnight and you have Kurt sleeping in your bed tonight. But you keep him up at night with your thoughts.
You tossed and turned in your bed looking over at the clock on your wall. It reads ‘1:34’ in the morning. There were several reasons why you couldn’t sleep. The blankets made it too hot for you, or maybe you had too much sugar before you went to bed. But also you had your boyfriend in your bed.
You and Kurt had been dating for a real long time and you suggested to him that you guys could have a small sleepover. Of course there were strict rules about opposite genders in the same room but Kurt could obviously just teleport into your room with no problems.
Now he’s asleep right next to you in your bed. You couldn’t think of a more blessing moment than this. Just watching Kurt’s peaceful face as he’s sleeping just made you feel butterflies in your stomach.
You turn again facing away from Kurt focusing on what’s on your mind. You lay there with your eyes wide open for a good few minutes until you felt something warm on your shoulder.
“(Y/n)… Are you still up?”, Your sleepy boyfriend mumbles. You laughed quietly at how cute he sounded and feeling guilty waking him up.
“Yes, I’m sorry baby did I wake you up?”, you turned to face staring at his sleepy face. His eyelids were barely open you almost thought he went back to sleep.
“Mhmm.. Vhy aren’t you sleeping?”, he murmurs, his hand drifting off to brush through your hair. Gosh he’s just so adorable, you just wish this boy to go back to sleep he desperately needs it. It was almost like he was drunk but in a more innocent way.
“Its just… How is a platypus still consider a mammal if it lays eggs?”, you ask in a curious whisper. Kurt stares at you for a minute trying to make sure if you were serious. Seeing that you were waiting for an answer still, he just turns away from you trying to go back to sleep and says, “Go back to sleep, darling”.
“I’m serious, is there another way of being a mammal than just giving birth, like what has this world come to?”, you almost raised voice but remember what time it is right now. You try poking Kurt to get an answer, but his tail grips on a pillow and throws it at your face.
“Sleep. You need it, love”, he mumbles through one of the pillows. “If you’re really curious ask Hank in the morning”.
“But…. I don’t want to look stupid”, your voice drops with your innocent excuse. Kurt turns his body back towards you and grabs you towards his chest embracing you.
“Vell, if I go vith you vill you finally go to sleep”, he says hugging onto you. At first you nod then say yes.
“Good. Gute nacht.”, he whispers drifting off to sleep. You stare at his resting face one last time as you snuggle into his embrace trying to drift to sleep as well.
Group: ASTRO Pairing: Binwoo/Soap (Moonbin and Eunwoo) Genre: Fluffiest fluff there ever was Length: Oneshot; 805 words
Summary: Sleepy Bin is a stubborn Bin.
A/N: i was thinking about this last night and thought about it too hard that i couldn’t keep it in my head so now it’s down in writing - can you tell im actually dying because of soap these two are just too cute ugh its just straight up fluff. fluffy soap for those late night feels also read it on ao3 here!
Lying down has never felt
so good, Moonbin thought to himself as he crashed among the stuffed animals
and blankets on the bed, his skin still tingling from the sensation of a hot
shower after a long day. He reveled in the feeling of relief for some time,
relaxing his muscles and stretching as far as he could across the sheets. Practice went later than usual today, and they had only gotten back to the dorms half an
hour ago, which, according to Sanha, had been 2:46 in the morning (“Thank god
this rice cooker has a glowing clock!”). They had pushed themselves harder than
usual, going through their new dance routine on repeat for the last two hours
until the words of the song blurred together in their heads.
At that point the dance was practically committed to muscle memory, but their choreographer had made them run through it five more times before they were allowed to end for the night. Everything had to be perfect – of course, they all understood that – but at this point Moonbin didn’t know if he’d be able to feel his limbs in the morning.
This is late but I’m out of town unexpectedly so I won’t get the time to work on these submissions that I thought I would. I’m still planning on doing them all (or most) but they’ll all be late lol. Hope you guys enjoy this ❀.(*´◡`*)❀.
AAAA sorry it’s been so long since I wrote last I haven’t been feeling too creative lately. But I have a coffee rn and its 12:13 AM so let’s do this.
Also sorry this is short!!
Work. That’s all he had been doing. (Y/N) was concerned and everyone else close to him was. George had been writing and forming the army, training men and preparing for battle for weeks now. His dear wife (Y/N) Washington hadn’t seen him leave his office in far too long. He burdened himself with too much and nobody else could do his work for him he would claim, no matter how many times (Y/N) told him to get an assistant or right hand man.
It was 1:40 in the morning, the grandfather clock in George and her’s bedroom said. And he still was working. Writing letters, invitations, requests and commands to his forces scattered across the colonies. The consistent sound that ran through the house these last long weeks; quill against paper.
In fact the quill scratching was the only sound she could hear besides the ticks of the clock. With an angry huff, (Y/N) sat up from the bed, putting her copy of Gulliver’s Travels down on the end table by the bed, and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
Her hand, grazed against the wall with each step, a lantern in hand as her bare feet tapped against the wooden floors, till only a door stood before her, her husband, and the scratching. For a moment (Y/N) just listened, resting her forehead on the door, hearing the writing continue. Until finally it ended. She threw her head up and reached for the doorknob, twisting it quickly and throwing the door open.
The effigy has stood in that place for over a thousand years.
It edges have been beaten by the elements, features becoming softer and less distinct as the years went by. Historians believe it had once been adorned with a metal plaque, long since lost to time.
After the great Crash in the late 2000’s, much of the world’s knowledge had been wiped- having been stored in an immaterial form. Records of the era it was built and the reasons to its creation are nearly nonexistent, with the little information available creating the backstory for strange and fantastical tales.
Some say it was a god, immortalized in stone for the purpose of worship. With the world in the palm of its hand the theory doesn’t seem too farfetched.
Others say it was a creature of unimaginable might, a being who sought to hide the world away from the vast cosmos- to make it untouchable and unseen to any but itself and the creatures of the world.
The strange man- boy?- who sleeps at it’s base tells a different story. A story of a boy who sought to be a hero, who tried to save the world from a piece of space itself and succeeded. He tells the story of a boy who could walk through walls, disappear, and even achieve flight by his own means. Who had become more than human by sheer accident, and who payed a steep price for his own reckless actions.
No one believed the drifter- his ratty clothes and rucksack so grimy and threadbare they seemed to be a millennium old themselves. No- his stories were the ravings of a mad man.
After all many civilizations created Gods, and myths were naught but tales that withstood the test of time.
a quick doodle self portrait, inspired by my haircut this afternoon. a
changed in the past year, and my 22nd birthday (the one i’ve been
dreading for a very, very long time) draws near. i’ve been doing a lot
of drastic stuff lately, to cope. maybe this is my midlife crisis come
its strange to think that something that heavily defines
how i see myself has been so reduced, especially by my own hand, but
maybe i’m a little too old for security blankets now.
cat ive been feeling down lately and honestly these days its getting more frequent and its starting to scare me cause sometimes if feel sad and other times nothing i dont know how long i can keep smiling to feel better but i feel like if i say something about it than i cant keep it up
don’t worry,pal ovo ive been having those kinds of days too and even if i may sound cheery today
uvu but its okay
don’t let the bad days bother you
just think about the good things about that day and why its a good day instead of thinking about why its a bad day
sadness is a normal emotion and its great that you have it ovo imagine
would you honestly be able to enjoy happiness at its fullest?
imagine having sad days for a long time
then imagine suddenly being hit with happiness
now that would be one hell of a great day-
so keep fighting for that good day,alright? ovo you can do it,my champ
I am an Entire Dumpster Fire and this is a Malora Phantom of the Opera AU hahahaha.
It was hard to think down here, in this endless darkness. Aurora wan’t sure what time it was anymore, even though logically she knew she couldn’t have been here very long. Where was she when…the opera. Right. Third act. It was late. Must be midnight by now, yet she didn’t feel tired. Just…lost. Confused. Hazy.
The monster…the Voice…the woman with the mask was pacing. Agitated. Moreso than usual. Maybe she, too, had a hard time thinking clearly, hidden away in this labyrinth she’d built for herself.
She had to know someone would come. Unless she’d come completely unhinged. But no, she was unhinged already. That was what everyone said, anyway. And Aurora could see it. Had seen it, at first, but it was difficult, sometimes. Now, even.
So much genius there. Few tried to deny it when they read her music, and when they did try, they were the ones who sounded foolish. So much genius, and so much beauty, in the music, in the voice that seemed almost more than the woman that owned it. She could throw it around as though by magic, she could render it so soft, so sweet that it was almost hypnotic–that it was hypnotic, that was what they told her. She’d been hypnotized. Taken in.
That was all.
A dream, nothing more.
Was it only a dream that caused Aurora to feel pity for this strange creature? Was it a naive and foolish heart that felt for her plight, so much that she saw more humanity than there truly was to see?