my god he's amazing

I feel like Sam has some kind of photographic memory or something I mean he can remember the recipe and spell for the Colt bullets despite not having used it in years, and there have been so many occasions where Sam remembers relevant information he looked at like once in college.

Sam Winchester is a genius. No discussion.

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“All the better, then! Just think of marrying me as your punishment!” 

“I’m not as big a fool as you! I… I wouldn’t… think of that as punishment.”

If I Had A Star (Lin x Reader)

Word Count: 9,636 (YIKES)

Warnings: swears, little nsfw

Authors Note: I KNOW ITS LONG BUT I PROMISE YOU ITLL BE WELL WORTH IT. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT!!! IM YELLING IM SO HAPPY I FINISHED THIS!!!! 

Summary: a series of short stories to your forever. 

(each bolded word starts a new short story, the horizontal lines also divide each story.)

Dedicated to:

@hamilton-noodles Jo is a blessing to this earth. THE MOST eloquent person I have ever come across. I personally give this story to her, and all the stars in the sky. I want to publicly thank her for being one of the best people I have ever met (PERIOD) I love her so much and she is my bestest of the best friends. 

@adolescenthowell RACHAEL was my first friend on this blog and I want to thank her for reading my shit, facetiming me when I need motivation to write, and most importantly sticking by me. She is so talented and I love her. 

@fanfrickinhamiltasticimagines Sophie is the kindest human being alive. I want to give her all my thanks for proof reading for me. She is an amazing human being and so so out of this world talented. Love ya girl!

@whatdimissmotherfuckers Ruby for being such an adorable little bean. She’s the most giving yet still sassy person ever and I admire her self confidence. I hope you keep doing you babe. Her art and writing is the BESTEST. AND I ALSO LOVE HER DEARLY.

Not requested

Masterlist


If life had worked out perfectly; you would have never met him. You took the wrong train going downtown. Stupid, you knew, but being a first time New Yorker was hard. You wandered the streets aimlessly until you found a subway station late at night, hoping and praying you’d be able to find your way back home, your phone having died hours ago. You sat on a bench tapping your foot anxiously waiting for your train going up when a subway car rattled its way to your station. You were passing the doors when you saw a man runselfning down the length of the aisles in the subway car, singing loudly with a pair of headphones on. He didn’t notice you immediately, but when his eyes finally fell on you he practically tore off his headphones and stopped dead in his tracks. You gave him an awkward smile before he blushed red and returned one.

“Can you help me with directions?”

Keep reading

Sherlock fucking Holmes was ticklish.

John at first realised this at a crime scene – naturally, given their unique lives.

Sherlock was standing over a dead body (but then again, there were few times when he wasn’t). It was the fourth murder, all of them done in the same way – their throats were ripped out, and an ‘x’ was written in blood on the wall,

It started to rain down suddenly – no mention of rain in the weather, or else John would have brought his umbrella – and John put his arms around himself to keep warm.

“Sherlock,” John said, trying to communicate with his friend so that they could leave. He was ignored, obviously… not that he was expecting anything else. A few of the police officers around him were growing impatient as well, muttering and staring at their watches.

“Sherlock. It is raining and I am freezing, and you probably are too. You can come back tomorrow.” Once again, he was ignored.

It was pouring down now. John’s hair was sticking down to his face, and from where he was standing he could see that Sherlock’s curls were flat and hanging down in his eyes. Something in him couldn’t help but call it adorable.

“Sherlock!” he called, still trying to get the consulting detective’s attention.

Nothing worked.

He moved closer, and saw that his friend had his eyes closed.

“Great,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, “mind palace time. We’ll be here all day.”

Sherlock’s hands were clasped together, and if John didn’t know him better he might have thought that he was praying – given that he did know Sherlock though, he knew that it wasn’t even a possibility. It was the gesture he always made while he was thinking especially hard about something in his mind palace.

His middle finger was almost touching his chin, which, if he was tired and thought about it enough, was funny to him for reasons he’d explained to Sherlock before.

All of these were things John had noticed in Sherlock hundreds of times.

Meanwhile, Sherlock looked like he was in no mood and had no intentions of leaving, so John walked closer to him.

He was soaking wet, the coat hanging limply around him and the shirt that had somehow seen the light of day almost see through, and John would be lying if he said that he didn’t look for a second longer than he probably should have. John couldn’t understand why all of this wasn’t bothering him. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn’t understand about Sherlock, and he was growing used to it.

John sighed and kneeled next to him, making sure not to accidently destroy any evidence on the body, and waved his hands in front of Sherlock’s face.

No reaction.

He then poked his cheeks, three times. Sherlock still didn’t move a centimetre, to John’s dismay.

He sighed, and then poked Sherlock in the side.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Sherlock, at that point, seemed unable to hold it in, and out came a burst of laughter. John looked at him in amazement, and Sherlock seemed to realise what it was that he’d done, and blushed.

Some officers looked at him strangely, and then started muttering amongst themselves.

“So…” Sherlock cleared his throat, “was there something you wanted?” He was still blushing, his cheeks dusted with red that John for some reason just wanted to poke even more.

“Um… yeah, it’s raining, I thought we could leave and come back tomorrow?” Sherlock looked around, as if just noticing that it was raining. John though that he probably was; chances were he hadn’t even felt it so deep into his mind palace.

Sherlock cleared his throat again. “Right, yeah. I’ll get us a cab.” And then he walked off. John raced after him, and watched as a cab pulled in to where they were standing; how Sherlock always managed to find one so quickly, John had no idea.

They both climbed in, and Sherlock looked out the window as John stared right at him.

“So, you’re ticklish?” John exclaimed. Sherlock stared at him and replied quietly, “No.” and John just looked at him once again in amazement. And then he reached out again and poked him sharply in the sides, which prompted another burst of laughter that left a smile on John’s face.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” John exclaimed, leaving Sherlock in horror as he jumped up out of the cab.

It was a few weeks later that he managed to actually have fun with it; Sherlock had once again, left some thumbs (or were those toes… John didn’t get close enough to tell) in the fridge, and was now attempting to solve a case.

John walked up to the detective and put his hands on his hips, looking straight at him. His eyes were still closed, so John didn’t bother warning him, and instead reached his hands out around Sherlock’s stomach and sides, and started tickling him.

At first there was nothing, but soon enough Sherlock was laughing quietly, which evolved into straight up laughing hysterically. His eyes were very open now, and John watched as his tall friend managed to curl himself into a ball, which was absolutely the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life –

Sherlock was still laughing, but with the position he had manoeuvred himself into, John was finding it harder to actually get a reaction out of him.

He adjusted where he was sitting so that he was basically on top of his best friend and continued to tickle him as he thrashed around, until their limbs were entangled and John’s face was basically on top of Sherlock’s.

He could feel his erratic breathing on his face, and blushed as he realised the position the two were in. He went to move away but instead fell further into the embrace, landing himself less than an inch from Sherlock’s face.

Something inside of John must have just said “screw it” because next thing he knew he was leaning down and oh my god he was kissing Sherlock Holmes and it was amazing and everything he had ever hoped for

Sherlock kissed back slowly, and John couldn’t help but start smiling, and next thing he knew it so was Sherlock, and then both of them were laughing and neither of them could explain why, and then they were back to kissing, and John’s hands were running through Sherlock’s hair…

Sherlock broke the kiss and smiled up at him. His grin was contagious, and soon both of them were just smiling and holding hands and John couldn’t even think straight, and he was just so amazingly happy.

They stayed that way for a while, until Mrs Hudson walked in and saw the two of them now cuddling on the couch. She smiled at both of them.

“It’s about time, boys. Any longer and I would have owed Mycroft £20.”

(submitted by anon)

HAPPY BIRTHDAYyyyy !!!!! HOPE YOUR DAY WAS SUPER SUPER GREAT AND that you got alot of presents and stuff and and i hope you like the drawing ! You’re one of my favourite blogs ;w;;;;;;; - super shy anon from few days ago (and if you want to post it then it’s fine ;w; )