Gishwhes article: Misha’s complete responses

Okay guys so as some of you may know, I recently wrote this article for my school’s newspaper and was able to interview Misha over email. He responded to my questions and I was sent the responses. However, due to word limit/article length I wasn’t able to use all of them, so here’s the full list. They’re all really fun and unique but I wouldn’t expect anything less from Misha Collins.

NG: Gishwhes, to the uninformed, can sound pretty strange, if not downright insane. Have you mastered a way of describing it that can convince the wary and the hesitant to join?

MC: It sounds like the uninformed have the right idea. Gishwhes IS downright insane. It’s guano. It’s not for the weak of heart. But we take pride in that. It’s a celebration of individuality and mayhem designed to show people that weirder = better 88% of the time. It’s also the most amazing experience you can have with food in your mouth.

NG: The items list is creative to say the least, how are the items chosen?

MC: I grab a pen and paper, put on my kale leisure suit and then the fantastic just happens. Also, I procrastinate, ask friends for help and wait for God to speak to me (he never does, but I wait nonetheless.)

NG: If there was any particular inspiration for a certain task, what was it?

MC: I can’t speak to any particular task because our item-creating squad is sworn to a blood-oath of secrecy (to preserve the mystique). I will say that our mission with each item is to create kindness, mayhem, art, and weirdness. If we’re doing those 4 things, we’re good.

NG: What is the most unexpected thing to come out of Gishwhes?

MC: NASA named a mountain on Mars “gishwhes.“ I can’t wait to go visit it. We’ve also had people volunteer to donate their bone marrow to strangers and gotten people to tattoo religious figures on their bodies. Personally, I’m most excited that the Supernatural fandom has been so receptive to my attempts to brainwash them into being obsessed with leafy green vegetables.

NG: Gishwhes has now reached William Shatner, People Magazine, and the surface of Mars, to name a few. Where’s the next place you’d like to see Gishwhes make its mark?

MC: My ultimate goal is for Bill Nye to get a gishwhes tramp stamp. I’m thinking of starting a petition. We’ll see how it pans out.

NG: Will there be any changes as the hunt continues to gain popularity and get bigger?

MC: We hope to eventually meld all of our thousands of minds together and create a “OmniSupergishwhes” that will serve a variety of domestic functions including doing laundry while chewing gum. At the same time. At its core, though, the hunt will remain an epicenter for grassroots community-building among weirdos. They are and shall remain my people.

NG: Since this article will mainly be read by college students, what’s one reason you think doing Gishwhes would be perfect for that demographic?

MC: Ideally, college students are interested in expanding their horizons, and that’s what gishwhes is all about. gishwhes is also all about parking tickets, Kant puns, and lasagne served in tubs. You do the math.

NG: From the effect on the participants to the charitable contributions, what has been the most rewarding result of Gishwhes?

MC: Based on the testimonials, we appear to have had a positive impact on many people participating in the Hunt as well as outsiders. People have donated their time, energy, and blood and have committed themselves to making the world a significantly less shitty place through sheer force of positivity and will. This is great to hear. I’m equally excited that we’ve somehow combined art, weirdness, and kindness into a sloppy, dripping cake of wondermentation (best served on three-days-stale toast).

it was too much for you.
i should never have crushed you
with the weight on my shoulders. 
it’s too much for anyone,
and especially you-
they weren’t even your problems. 

all i did was add on to your weight,
and your thin shoulders 
caved in with it. 

i’m sorry. 
i tried to fix myself using you,
but i ended up snapping us both
into even smaller pieces.
—  j.e.b. ((i broke us both.))

anonymous asked:

write another daddy!killian fic where killian is protective over his teenage daughter and overhears her talking to emma about a guy she fancies who has asked her out.

Anon, this is a marvelous prompt. :) I am semi-combining it with another Daddy!Killian prompt I received as well. (also for because-you-want-me who asked for Daddy!Killian with older kids fluff a while back)

“So, I kind of wanted to talk to you, Mom,” her voice is soft, but steady.

“Yeah? What about?” Emma asks.

He hears the water from the sink turning on and dishes clanking about as she sets about cleaning them and he stops in the hallway so he’s hidden from view, the book in his hand.

“This guy asked me out,” she blurts out.

It makes his heart stop and it falls straight into his gut.

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Tonight my dream was to brush my teeth in your bathroom sink. To put your toothpaste on my brush and put it in my mouth. I want to crawl between the same sheets you’ve slept on for the past six months and lay my head on the pillow that’s seen ten different countries with you. I will breathe in all their air and maybe feel like I was there with you. I want to wrap myself up in the blankets you have laid in and mostly, I want to open my eyes and see you. I want to see you seeing me and I want it all open and I want it all on your face. I don’t want darkness and I don’t want corners. I want to look at you and see it. I want you to touch me with shaking hands so I can feel it. Feel it just there, in the space behind my rib cage. Feel you in my blood and in my veins and in the thing that’s keeping me alive. There is a spot on the chest that if you hit it hard enough, it will rupture the heart. Your name is there and I want you to see it. I want to say, here I am, here is everything, now curl your fist and take it all because it was always yours.
—  daydreams. (via brizzlewritesthings)
Coming Home | one-shot |

Summary: Himawari always knew home was where the heart was. Luckily, her heart was big enough for all. 

Pairing: mild NaruHina, mainly Himawaru-centric.
Prompt: Inspired by this prompt by godzillanon​ and narootos​. 

AN: I sat down on my computer this morning to do work and ended up spending the day writing this instead. It was much too good a prompt to pass up. Enjoy! (And side note: Hima named everyone. She is definitely her father’s daughter.)
(Also on


“Hm?” Naruto looked up from the report he was reading at the kitchen table to see his daughter standing in the doorway. She shuffled from side to side, her head ducked down, her arms tucked behind her back. She looked distinctly bashful and so very much like Hinata when she was that age. Naruto smiled at the thought.

“Can you play with me?” Himawari’s bright blue eyes darted up to look at his face hopefully.

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every time we talk,
it’s so amazing. 
your eyes shining as you laugh,
like you are innocent to the horrors.
when we don’t,
when you leave me hanging on
last seens and cliffhangers,
you leave me stranded. 
doubts flare up,
the flames doubling the longer you’re away. 

be careful. 
one of these days, you’ll come back
but my love will be gone. 
—  j.e.b. ((about someone repeatedly leaving and coming back.))

One day I hope to be guilt free.
One day I hope it doesn’t hurt to climb out of bed.
One day I hope that my food feels right in my stomach.
One day I hope I won’t have the urge to cry when I see a child.
One day I hope the heat doesn’t show white lines on my skin.
One day I hope I can have a good year, instead of a good week.
One day I hope the pain fades.
One day I hope I feel okay.

One day I hope I’m able to cope.

—  one day i hope to be free

blazexkeys asked:

NaLu 5 "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" and 13 "Kiss me." omg I'm all fired uppppp

Send Me A Pairing And A Number

(I’ve done both of these BUT it will be fun to put them together hehe…Guys if you send me two prompts I’ll combine them and make a story. I’M ALL FIRED UP NOW TOO I love challenges ^^)

Lucy chased after Natsu, as he stormed off away from her, “Natsu wait up!”

He didn’t acknowledge her, walking at a steady fast pace out of the village.

“Slow down!”

“I need to get away from this village,” he replied, eyes glued on the path in front of him.

“Why?” she questioned, trying to keep up with him but failing.

No response, she sighed, he could be such a child sometimes.


“Okay we’re out of the village by a mile can we slow down now?” 

“I guess…can’t get far enough away,” he mumbled, stopping and staring at the ground.

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You know what happened!”

“I do?”

“That guy that kept flirting with you,” he grumbled, “The one I hit when he slapped your ass.”

“Oh yea him…That bothered you huh?”

“I hate him.”

“Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re jealous Natsu,” she smirked.

“Jealous? Me? Ha! I’m just pissed off.”

She laughed, “Whatever you say~”

“I don’t like when other guys touch you like that,” he mumbled, face hidden by his scarf, but his eyes still pierced into hers.

“So jealous?” 

“Not of him, you didn’t like him at all.”

“Not my type, to much like Loke.”

His eyes narrowed, “Then there’s him who keeps mixing with your scent.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile plastered on her face, “Well someone’s a little possessive, should have warned me when we got together,” she laughed.

“I thought you knew,” he chuckled, smirk growing on his face, “Dragons are demanding and selfish. What’s theirs is theirs, basically.”

“And extremely unreasonable,” she smiled, taking a hold of his hand, “I love you Natsu, I won’t leave you ever.”

“So you’re mine then right?” he questioned, innocent smile with devious eyes.

“Well that sounds odd but yes.”

“You’re mine Lucy Heartfilia,” he smirked, leaning down close to her face, “Kiss me Lucy,” he whispered.

She happily obliged tugging gently at his scarf to pull him closer, pressing her lips, coated with strawberry lip gloss, to his own surprisingly soft lips. Feeling his hands slide down her arms, settling on her waist before pulling her closer. Her hands found their way to his hair tugging gently as she felt his tongue tracing around her lips.

Pulling apart, reluctantly, his half lidded eyes stared into hers. He pressed a quick peck to her forehead, 

“No one else can have you…Don’t ever leave me okay?

“Messages” - Daddy!Calum one shot

Summary: A lengthy Daddy!Calum fic that chronicles the stages from babies to hardships to a beautiful family you can call your own. 

Rating: Explicit (A LOT of fluff, but smut is included) Enjoy - Xoxo

Keep reading

szhismine asked:

Intimacy prompt: Alistair helping a very pregnant Roselyn get undressed and ready for bed; could also use for your other pairings if you're inclined :)

Going to try and keep these about this length. Going to try and aim for under one thousand words for each of them. Short and sweet where I can make them. Some I might elaborate on.

Anyway, someone asked for doting dad-to-be Alistair?

“You know, you could help me.” Roselyn grunted from the bed where she struggled with buttoning up her night gown over the tight swell of her belly. 

Alistair grinned, leaning against the lintel of the door. He stood with his arms folded across his chest admiring the scene of his heavily pregnant Queen and the daily struggle to dress and undress.

“You could ask for help.” He retorted, playful in his teasing.

Roselyn grabbed his own bed shirt, screwed it into a ball and tossed it at him with a small huff of frustration. Alistair caught it and unraveled it while chuckling and folding it back up. He placed it at the end of the bed, crossing the room towards her.

“I can’t see my feet anymore.” Roselyn remarked in a pathetic tone, peering down at the floor. He watched her trying to stretch her feet out in an attempt to glimpse her toes. “I miss being able to see my feet.”

“They’re still there, I promise.” Alistair told her, “all ten toes.” He stood in front of her and swatted away her hands from the buttons on her cream night dress. Most of the buttons strained against their holes where they were fastened. Others were left open over the greatest stretch of Roselyn’s body, the cotton material lacking any stretch to make the buttons and holes meet.

He began to fasten those she had been struggling to reach, buttons that were lower than the distance his wife could bend.

“This can’t be comfortable.” Alistair said after a few seconds, pursing his lips and  pausing his fingers.

Roselyn shrugged, “my new night dresses aren’t ready yet.”

“Isn’t this one new?”

“Yes.” She nodded, dropping her gaze. “I’m growing so fat and so fast that I already need new ones.”

Sighing, Alistair slipped his palms over her exposed skin. “You’re not fat.”

“Your wife has been replaced by a broodmother,” Roselyn snorted derisively, “admit it.”

“No.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, massaging his large hands over her belly, “you’re much prettier than a broodmother.” Roselyn laced her fingers through his. “And you’re carrying the life of our child.” Alistair dropped his gaze to meet hers, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth “Believe me, you have never looked more beautiful.”

Colour blossomed in her cheeks, turning her a delightful shade of pink. Roselyn dropped her eyes, squeezing his fingers. Loose, dark ringlets tumbled over her slim shoulders and Alistair heard her swallow thickly.

“Doesn’t fix my night dress problem, does it?” She said, biting her bottom lip.

Laughing through his nose, Alistair grabbed his folded shirt from the end of the bed. “I have a solution to that.” He shook it out and put it across Roselyn’s knees. He worked quickly, taking buttons from holes with familiar and skilled swiftness until her night gown a was open. Roselyn’s skin prickled in response to the cold while Alistair slid the sleeves of the cotton gown off her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her gloriously naked but for her small clothes.

“This is not a good solution, Alistair.” She remarked, grey eyes narrowing covering her nakedness with her hands and arms.

Alistair returned her disapproving gaze with a childish face. “Just a moment, Your Majesty.” He took his bed shirt up in his hands again. “Arms up, please.”

Roselyn obeyed and helped in pulling his thicker woolen shirt down her arms and over her body, concealing her pregnant belly underneath the baggy material. Unlike her own gown which had stretched, Alistair shirt sat loose over her, swamping Roselyn smaller frame in the garment.

“How’s that?” Asked Alistair, standing back to admire her. He had always appreciate her on the occasions she wore his clothes. A habit she had adopted during the Blight, but had sadly become a rare occurrence after they had taken up the ruling of Ferelden together.

Roselyn ran her hands over the sleeves, rolling them up so they did not cover her hands. She pulled her hair out from under the collar, shaking it out.

“It’s comfortable.” She remarked, almost begrudgingly. “You don’t mind?”

“I wish I’d thought of it sooner.” Alistair grinned, grazing his lips over her forehead. He teased his fingers back through her hair, working out the tangles and knots. Roselyn wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing and hugging him as close as her growing body would allow.

“Thank you.” She muttered, voice small and barely concealing a sniffle. 

Kissing her forehead again, Alistair trailed his hands down the back of her neck and around her chin, coaxing her to lift her head. “I am your humble servant, Rose.” He told her, nuzzling her forehead. “You know that.” His lips tingled when he kissed her, his whole body warming to the sensation.

When he pulled away he felt a little light headed, breathless almost and grinned at the soft expression on his wife’s face. Adoring and gentle, one she kept only for him. He stroked her cheeks and pressed his lips to the spot between her brows.

“Now, My Lady,” he took her hands and bowed while Roselyn giggled. “Is there anything else this humble servant can do for you?”

Reblogs and comments appreciated and encouraged! <3

sherlock starting to spend a lot of time at bart’s post-s3 to keep himself out of the house and away from john’s empty chair. meeting a new lab technician there and being too listless and burned out to bother ripping him to shreds with deductions. as a result, the man actually chats to him. first of all it’s talk about the weather and the traffic and last night’s telly and sherlock doesn’t care, but the technician’s perceptive, notices he’s losing his audience and turns talk to the equipment in the labs, recent technological advances and prototype kit being tested abroad and what they each specialised in at Uni to earn their degree and suddenly sherlock finds himself talking shop with a fellow chemist and it’s new. it’s good. gradually, he finds himself less bothered whenever talk turns to trivia. there’s something refreshing about that part, too.

the man’s name is Jacob, which is a useless name, “Jake” is even worse and he tells him so on one of his less charitable days, but it doesn’t get him much more than a laugh and the suggestion of a lab coat if he wants to avoid losing his suit to dangerous chemicals. weeks go on like this until one day he’s invited out for a drink when the work day’s over and usually he wouldn’t go, god knows, god knows usually he’d dismiss it out of hand but there’s no case on and it’s getting harder and harder to be at home.

one drink. keeping up conversation with him outside of a common environment isn’t actually especially difficult. two drinks. he’s plain, lives an entirely boring life outside of the labs (and a mediocre one at best within them) but he’s a couple of inches taller than sherlock and a couple of years younger and his hair is chestnut brown and he’s of lean build and his surname is Keele not Wallace or Weston and almost nothing about him is anything like– “Jacob” can’t be helped. and anyway, one shared initial should not a reminder make.

there’s been interest there from the start, sherlock isn’t blind to the signs, and after the third drink he thinks he might go home with him. “… do you want to call it a night?” perceptive. right, yes, he’s perceptive. sherlock had forgotten. he’ll have to be more careful of that in the future.

he doesn’t go home with him that night, but it doesn’t take them too much longer.

john popping around to 221b for the first time in a week and a half, all apologies and dark bags under his eyes and finding sherlock just as distracted as he always is. being here is getting harder and harder. sherlock’s more distant with every visit and coming over at all is a catch twenty two: john knows what the problem is, it’s the same thing that keeps him up all night and away for longer and longer and it isn’t going away, but he doesn’t want to go away either. can’t stand to keep his distance.

he asks the customary “alright?”, gets the customary grunt. sherlock heads to the kitchen to sort out the customary cup of tea and he hates this, he honestly does. customary. jesus. time was they were the least customary people he’s ever known. john asks him what he’s been up to and sherlock dutifully recounts his week in enough detail that he can hear the elephant trumpeting in the brief quiet between each sentence. the two minute summary amounts to “nothing much,” and so he searches the flat for any hope of something more promising to talk about before sherlock feels compelled to ask the inevitable question– he finds it. a jacket of unknown origin laying over the arm of the sofa.

“client forgot their coat?” sherlock seems confused until john points it out to him - the fog clears, but the odd expression left behind puts john on edge. “oh. no.” “… it doesn’t look like it’s your style.” “no. it’s not mine.” “right.” sherlock pauses for a moment, assesses him - presumably trying to work out how likely he is to drop it if sherlock doesn’t give him what he’s after - and turns back to the tea. “it’s jacob’s.” “jacob’s.” “yes,” john stays silent, and the pause pregnant with a question he doesn’t really feel the need to ask. eventually, sherlock starts up again, “he’s a lab technician at barts.”

a lab technician at bart’s. right. a lab technician at bart’s that john hasn’t met but sherlock has deigned both to speak to and remember the name of. …unless that isn’t actually his name at all but some vague approximation of what his name might be if sherlock had actually been listening when he told him. poor sod. “you leave something at the lab?” “no.” sherlock isn’t really getting the hang of leading questions today. “steal his coat when he botched up your blood samples?” “no.” sherlock turns with the tea, brushes past him to set the mugs down, one on john’s chairside table and one on the desk. he stops with his back to him, falls silent, and it’s not until now that john realises his hands are in fists.

“he came over for dinner.”

what? “–for takeaway, actually. i didn’t cook.” john hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “must have left it behind when he went. i didn’t notice.” it’s noon. sherlock notices everything. if this lab technician had been heading to leave without his coat after dinner, he would have noticed. the coat wouldn’t be here. john takes a closer look at sherlock’s turned back, becomes aware of the lack of his usual grooming, the sleep-mussed state of his hair. sherlock turns his head, turns it almost far enough to look back at john over his shoulder–

he pulls out a chair and sits down. john can’t move. he can’t move an inch. silence reigns, seconds stretch, all it still.

sherlock picks up his mug and turns the page of a newspaper. it almost looks casual. the almost is everything.

“how’s the baby?”

not-for-granted asked:

"I didn't think I'd see you in a dress," Percy admitted, blinking in surprise as Thalia smoothed the front of her bridesmaid gown.

“I think I should check in with Nico and see if Hades has frozen over yet.”

Hilarious,” she replied dryly, scowling at him. Thalia hoped the foul look on her face would distract him from the way she wobbled along in her heels. Being a Hunter of Artemis didn’t give one a lot of time to practice walking in ridiculous footwear. “Don’t make me punch you before the wedding even starts, Jackson. You have no idea how tempting it is to give you a black eye to match that penguin suit of yours.”

Percy grinned in spite of her threat, and offered her his arm. Thalia tried not to look too desperately grateful as she took it; she’d been worried she’d trip going down the aisle in these damn shoes and make a fool of herself during her brother’s big day.

“Will you punch me if I say you look nice?”

Thalia glanced down at her gown once more. Truly, it wasn’t a bad dress; short, black, and cut in a rockabilly style, it was actually something she could see herself wearing more than once… if she didn’t spend the majority of her time in the muck, hunting monsters, that was.  Piper had even let her accessorize it with a silver studded belt around her waist and her nose ring. Annabeth, the killjoy, had drawn the line at her spiked choker and skull earrings, saying, “It’s Jason’s wedding, Thalia, not Dracula’s, for god’s sake,” in that endearingly condescending way of hers.

Unfortunately, dresses were far too drafty for the kind of work she did on a regular basis and, in the end, they weren’t really her thing, even if she did look like the best punk pin-up ever. But this one would do for a few hours, just so she could stand by her brother’s side and hand him off into the arms of his soon-to-be wife. 

“You don’t need to say it,” she said, throwing her head back and smirking at her cousin smugly “I know I look nice.”

I'm Too Old to Start Again

Prompt: “I’m too old to start again.”

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader (Romantic)

Warning: Fluff, Contains some spoilers for Avengers: Age of Ultron

Words: 1,153

Your name: submit What is this?

It was calm.

Y/N ran her slender fingers through Steve’s hair, gently raking her nails across his scalp. As she combed her hand through his golden mane, she couldn’t help but stare at him. His eyes lay shut, utterly relaxed, as he rested his head against her chest. One large hand lay underneath the baggy gray t-shirt she wore, and was tracing patterns languidly along her side. The palm of his hand was warm, she noted, and rested firmly against her stomach.  A habit of his that Y/N was all too fond of.

“This is nice.” She said softly, breaking the comfortable silence they had lulled themselves into. Although it was two in the morning, Y/N was all too reluctant to return to her slumber.  Once Steve had stumbled in after midnight, Y/N was determined to stay awake. It wasn’t often that they were able to have some down time. After the events with Ultron and Steve training an entirely new team of Avengers, it was almost like her boyfriend was a figment of her imagination. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Yeah…” Steve agreed. Noticing his quiet demeanor, Y/N asked. “Everything okay?” Though his answer lay in the way his hand stilled at the question, she waited patiently for his response. It was a reassurance that his thumb continued circling patterns just below her belly button.

“Yeah—Yeah, everything is fine.” Steve answered. “You know I love you, right?” He asked, after a moments pause. A bit taken aback by his sudden declaration, Y/N paused in her ministrations.

“Yeah…?” She glanced down at his mussed up locks on her chest with a furrowed brow. “Why?”

“No reason, really.” He pulled away from her, choosing to lay on his back instead. Y/N shifted onto her side to watch him, taking in the slant of his nose and the curve of his jaw.  “Everything is just,” Steve exhaled slowly. “Everything is so different, and yet exactly the same. Just on a larger scale.” He hit the back of his head against the pillow, trying to find the right words.  “Instead of fighting for my country, I’m fighting for the world. Instead of leading the 107th, I’m leading a team of, of—” He struggled with the word.

“Superheroes?” Steve gave a disgruntled sigh at the term, but nodded nonetheless. Noting his displeasure, she reached out for him, running a hand down his arm.

“Look, Steve—”

“No, listen.” He sat up at her touch, pulling away.“Y/N,” Steve stared at her seriously. He didn’t want to spend copious amounts of time away from her. She needed to understand that; but at the same time, he didn’t want to see her be put in harms way if he didn’t lead the Avengers. Either way, he thought darkly, there was a possibility that one day he wouldn’t come back. “I lead a team of people around the world in hopes to keep it– keep you– safe from God knows what. I can’t give you the love and attention that you deserve every day.”

Y/N’s mouth parted, but no words came out. She wasn’t too sure what to say. She wasn’t even sure where this conversation was coming from either. “I just… I thought you should know.” Steve started. “Y/N, I-I’m too old to start again. I’m Captain America. This is me. I’m a big part of a team of people that save the world, and I’m not just going to quit. Not now—”
“Steve.” Y/N frowned at the implications. Irritation. She was definitely feeling irritated: terribly exhausted, and annoyed. It had been a long week, fretting over whether this was the mission that would take Steve away from her. Thankfully, he had returned home; tired, but otherwise unharmed. And now that they finally had a moments peace, he was talking as if this would be one of their last.

“I’m not asking you to quit the Avengers.” She sat up. “You— what you do is important to you, and I would never ask that you give up something like that just to be with me.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she added. “The idea that you think I would, is also, kind of insulting.“

“Look, I love you, and every version of you: whether you are Captain America or the Leader of the Avengers. Regardless of what you believe, I do understand what those titles mean.” His deep, blue eyes locked on to her gaze as she reached out. Her hand skimmed down his throat to rest on the tight muscles of his chest. “Yet you keep forgetting that above all of that, you are Steve Rogers. The man I fell in love with.” She gave him a half smile. “Being a part of the Avengers isn’t a deal breaker. Stealing all the covers might be though.” She teased.

“Y/N, I’m serious. You deserve someone who can take you out all the time.” He answered, lamely. “Someone to take you dancing. Take you to the cinema. At the very least, you deserve someone who will come home to you every single night.” Steve took a hold of her hand, pulling it away from his chest. “I can’t give you any of that.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t ever be able to give me that.” She pointed out, pulling her hand from his grasp, before jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Did you forget that we were having a perfectly nice cuddle session a few moments ago?”


“No.” The finality in her tone surprised him. “We’re okay right now Steve. We’re safe. And I’d really like it if you would just lay here with me because, yeah, I rarely see you. Which does bother me, by the way.” Steve gave her an exasperated look. “What? You’re the one bringing up how little time you give me.” Y/N smiled innocently, before falling back onto her pillows. All the while keeping a steady gaze on her super soldier. “So how about you leave the self righteous, all American hero for your day job Cap? When you’re in this bed, you are Steve Rogers, whose only job is to cuddle with me for as long as I want.”

Steve stared for a moment down at Y/N. She was clothed only in a loose fitting t-shirt that he recognized was one of his old ones. The previous day was present in the mascara smudged beneath her eyes, and her hair, wild and untamed, splayed out across her pillow like a halo.  He didn’t think he could love her anymore than he did at that moment.  A low chuckle vibrated in his chest at his stupidity. “Yes, Ma’am.” Steve said, mouth hitching into a crooked smile. He moved forward, capturing her lips with a searing kiss before covering her body with his own.

Opening up to people used to be so easy,
but I’ve already gotten my veins tangled up in others too many times,
only to have them cut me off because I’m not worth the struggle.
be patient, be kind
I’m still trying to fix the mess that their breath
Once left on my heart.

I’m still trying to figure out why that part of me is lost.
I still wonder why I allowed the moon to shadow my sun.
I guess because you were my sun, once upon a time, but now you are the galaxy far, far away.
The galaxy that nobody ever sees, but the one I see. Because it used to be my sun, my moon, my universe, and I was the speed of light.


I’m a writer for my school’s newspaper and recently wrote an article about Gishwhes. The most exciting part is that I actually got Misha Collins to respond to some questions via interview and some of those are in the article. Please read it and spread it around because I’m super proud of it.

jemmaswan asked:

fitzsimmons + 27 pretty please? :)

“I’m pregnant.” Jemma said casually, peering down at her latest Asgardian sample through the microscope.  Across the lab bench, there was a giant crash.  Oh dear.  There went Fitz’s latest dispersal mechanism.

“You’re…pregnant?” Fitz gaped at her. “I…when…how?  Jemma…” He was grinning hugely at her now, as the news sank in, eyes wide and bright.

“You should know how–you were there for it, after all.” Jemma tried very hard to keep from giggling as Fitz raced around the side of the lab bench and pressed both hands to her stomach. “You can’t feel much yet,” she informed him. “I’m only a few weeks in.” 

“It’s still amazing,” he breathed. “You’re amazing, Jemma.  So…” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Does this mean we’ll have to flip a coin to decide if we’re naming them after a famous scientist or a superhero? Because, if it’s a boy, I think that Sam Wilson is definitely underappreciated among the–”

“Oh, Fitz.”

Cheater [Cullen x Inquisitor, 200 Words]

Lunchtime double drabble ft my Inquisitor, Melisande Trevelyan, and Cullen. I am fluffy trash.

“Your game again.” Melisande leaned back in her seat and drummed her fingertips against the arms of her chair. She lifted her gaze from the board to Cullen, who looked very pleased with his recent victory. “I’m beginning to think Dorian’s not the only one who plays outside the rules.”

Cullen’s self-assured smile faded as his brows raised in offense, and he crossed his arms.

“Are you accusing me of cheating, Inquisitor?”

“I’d never!” she replied, voice lilted with mock affront. “Could you imagine? The leader of my army–”

“–Your army?”

“–A cheater in a game of wit and strategy? Think of the scandal!”

Melisande winked as he frowned at her, wondering if she’d need to provoke him any further into another game. Cullen slid his pieces back to their starting point, each movement deliberate and calculated. Just like hers. 

“I don’t need to cheat to beat you,” he said, almost too seriously.

“Is that right?” Melisande challenged, almost too eagerly.

He nudged a piece back to her, a hint of his presumptuous smirk curling his lips. “That’s right.”

She grinned and adjusted her trinkets into place.

“Very well, Commander.” She inched her chair forward, meeting his gaze.“ Your start.”

chaoticcas asked:

Destiel and the 'don't fucking touch me' line ^^

“Cas, come back!” Dean rushed over and grabbed onto Castiel’s shoulder before he could get any further. “Cas-.” 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Castiel snarled back, shoving him away. “I saw you, Dean. I saw you. Don’t you touch me again.” 

“Cas-.” He wanted to deny it; he wanted to deny that he’d been in the closet with Lisa Braeden, but he couldn’t. Not if Cas had seen him. “I’m sorry… You just, I mean, you know my Dad, Cas…” He glanced down sheepishly. 

“We’re over,” Castiel snarled back at him. “I should have known dating you was a fucking joke.” 

“Cas, no-.” He reached for Castiel’s coat, but he pulled away and kept walking down the hall. “Cas!” 

send me an angst prompt

anonymous asked:

Blurb about you and Niall being friends with benefits?

“Niall!” You call out, walking in through the garage door. You were horny and ready to go. Making the agreement to be friends with benefits (you were physically attracted to him, but he was just a friend and he felt the same towards you) a while back, this became a regular thing. 

He looked up from his bowl of cereal and the morning paper. “Hey love, ‘ow are ya?” Niall smiles softly at you. 

“Horny and ready to go.” You smirk and head towards his room. Niall watches you walk off and shoves one more bite of cereal in his mouth, slurping the milk and running towards his room, pulling off his shirt as he goes along. 

You grin as he walks in and pull him in for a rough kiss before shoving him back onto the bed. 

He smirks and looks up at you, “I love it when yer so dom.” He teases. This didn’t happen often, but when it did… It was always fun.

You giggle and shrug a bit, pulling off your tshirt, “No you don’t.” You giggle and shake your head. 

“No, I don’t.” He sits up and takes off your bra, tossing it aside. “How was the gym this morning?” Niall raises his brows, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you to lay back on top of him. 

“Oh, it was lovely. Did my arse work outs today.” You nod and kiss along his neck, before attaching your mouth to his, “You going to write with the guys today?” 

Niall nods and pulls you down to kiss him, his hands cupping your face as he did so. Sometimes these tender caresses made you feel like there was a lot more to all of this besides being fuck buddies. 

You pull away, biting your lip. “Kinda want to ride you, finish my leg work out.” You wink and pull his sweats and boxers off at the same time. 

“Anyt’ing to help ya fer dat bikini body!” He chuckles but that quickly fades when you slide onto his dick, a dirty moan coming from him. 

You loved making him feel good and he loved making you feel good… It all worked out for the both of you. 

The sex was the best, to be honest. With time, you gave Niall the appropriate instructions and vice versa. You two know how to make each other feel the best possible. 

Niall and you lay there, panting. You had the sheet pulled up and you looked over at him with a lazy grin, “Thanks.” You pant out. 

“Anyt’ing fer ya.” He leans over and pecks your cheek. Niall grows quiet after a moment, letting his beating heart slow after a bit. He had a growing attraction to you for a long while, it started off insignificant but now… “Hey, Y/N?”

You got out of bed and started to get dressed, “Yeah?” You glanced up at him and smiled softly. 

“I uh, I hope ya ‘ave a good day.” He smiles and gets up to get dressed as well. Admitting to you he had feelings for you could fuck up the friends with benefits. He just guessed today is not that day for this and for this part to come out. 

“You too Ni!” You smile and peck his cheek, grabbing your car keys. “See you tonight at the club!” 

Niall watched you go, chewing his top lip. Friends with benefits never truly work out. 

But just imagine barista! Calum becoming a close friend after you spending so much time there that one day he slips you a free drink already having your favourite drink memorized because he thought that the way your hair was pulled back as you continued to study flattered your face so well under the sun light streaking through the large glass windows.