okay-Katia-stop

Grief is this weird visceral thing without shape and form that yet somehow still manages to carve a hole in your chest in the exact dimensions of your heart. 

It’s a muted, hollow kind of chaos that leaves you both empty and simultaneously overwhelmed, like a white noise that should be deafening but somehow manages to slip from your throat in a hiccup. Like a piece of glass lodged in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down for fear of being cut to ribbons from the inside out, so maybe if you scream long and hard enough you’ll be able to spit it free.

Except there’s nothing tangible to pry away, no matter how much it claws back and burrows deeper into your chest until you think perhaps it has always been there. A tiny sliver of ice that drops into your soul like a two-ton weight of shit and shrapnel, detonating with absolute emotional devastation that should leave nothing but a smoking wreck in its wake but somehow has the audacity to keep you whole.

People say that hate is love turned inside out, but it’s not. Grief is love that’s been ransacked, plundered and left in a thousand million pieces scattered across the strata of your soul like starlight.

And while time supposedly heals all wounds, were the boon offered to take this pain from your soul now, if the gods said I will lift this from you now and all it will cost you is the memory of their smile and the warmth of their arms…there suddenly wouldn’t be time enough.

Be kind to one another. You never know what other people are going through.

Heartbreaker

“Here.”

Cas reads the label and turns the tape over in his hands. “I don’t have a cassette player,” he concludes as he holds the cassette back out to Dean.

Dean gets up from the kitchen table and pushes it back toward Cas until it’s right up against his chest. “I’ve been in that truck. There’s a cassette player.”

“Well, I don’t know how to–”

“Cas,” Dean says, leveling him with a glare. “Take the damn tape.”

Cas flips it over in his hands once again, looking down at it studiously. When he looks back up to thank Dean, he finds himself alone. He looks around the kitchen, but Dean is gone.

He tucks the cassette into the inner pocket of his coat and pats it once to feel the solid weight against his chest.

****************

“What’s that?” Sam asks jovially as he joins Cas in the library. 

Cas tucks the cassette away quickly and clears his throat. “Dean gave it to me. It’s a cassette.”

Sam looks up quickly from his computer, a shocked and amused expression on his face. “A cassette? He gave you a cassette?” 

Castiel squints at him. “Yes?”

Sam looks down at his keyboard, huffs a short laugh, straightens up a bit in his seat. “What’s on it?”

“It says his top 13 Led Zeppelin traxx, ‘tracks’ with two x’s,” Cas recites from memory.

“You haven’t listened to it yet?”

“I…no, I haven’t.”

Sam nods as he says, “Well, uh, you should. Dean doesn’t just–he doesn’t even let anybody touch his tapes, man. That’s…a really big deal that he gave you one.”

Cas presses his hand to his chest. “I’m not sure he meant for it to be a big deal.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam shrugs. “Listen to it, at least.”

****************

Cas is sitting in his truck, holding the tape in his hand, staring at the radio and wondering where to put the damn thing.

The passenger door creaks open and shuts. Castiel doesn’t look over.

“Oh fuck, I was wrong,” Dean says with a small laugh. “There’s no cassette player in here. C’mon.” He doesn’t wait before getting right back out and heading over to where the Impala is parked on the other end of the garage.

After a moment, Cas follows him. He hesitantly gets in on the passenger side and hands the tape over to Dean.

A couple of seconds of silence pass before the music quietly pours through the Impala’s speakers. Dean leans his head back against the seat and puts his arm up on the backrest of the bench. His fingertips brush lightly against Cas’ shoulder.

[listen]

Cas can’t quite hear all the lyrics, but he knows it’s something about being lonely and missing someone and he wants to ask Dean when he made this tape, who he had in mind when he made this tape, who this was really meant for, but the words get stuck in his throat.

As the music washes over him, he closes his eyes and leans his head back as well. After a minute, a hand brushes through his hair and Dean begins to hum.

Cas opens his eyes and looks over, and Dean’s head lolls to the side as he gives him a lazy grin. 

“You like it?” Dean asks, his hand still carding through Cas’ hair.

Cas prefers his own music, but maybe he could get used to this as well. “I like it,” he concedes.

“Good,” Dean replies, his head falling back against the seat once more. “I could sit here all day.”

Cas scoots a little bit closer to the driver’s side. “I could, too.”

In light of recent weeks where I have noticed a severe influx within the fanfic community of readers, generally under an anonymous guise, who have been messaging fic writers some terribly rude things in regards to demanding and or begging for updates, here are some pointers to educate the non-writer community:

  • Just because the demanding message is sent in complete caps lock to imply “enthusiasm” does not dampen the fact that the nature of the message is any less demanding. At the end of the day, if you are saying: Update (insert title) already, I need it! or When are you finally going to post (insert title) then that is all the writer is going to see, no matter if the message is sent in all caps lock, all lower case, or in leet speak. If you as the reader cannot see and understand that such a sentence is demanding and consider that as the only way you can express your “enthusiasm” to a writer, then do not even bother sending a message in the first place.
  • Begging is not a compliment. It is fantastic to know that our readers are excited about future updates, but there are at least a hundred different ways that you can express that without the begging connotations. Just because you “need” this update, or “need” to know what happens will not suddenly encourage the writer to create the content faster. If anything, it will stress them out and put the pressure on them to upload something that ninety-five percent of the time, they will not be happy with due to the simple fact that they churned it out on a late night and four cups of coffee to satisfy a reader who felt entitled by typing out a string of demanding words, ticked anonymous and clicked send.
  • If you have a right to complain about us being slow in our updates, then we, as the content creators, have the full green light to go ahead and complain about the demands. The issue that I have noticed the most with this whole situation is the moment that the writer sits down and posts a response in regards to how the demands are making them stressed, upset, or angry, they will almost instantly receive a sudden torrent of messages telling them why their feelings are invalid, why they should be grateful that their readers are so excited for them to update, etc. As soon as the writer fights back, the readers suddenly pipe up to shut them down like the writer is a disobeying pet, and the reader is a displeased owner who scolds them for supposedly biting the hand that feeds them. And that, my friends, is seriously fucked up.

  • Understand that there is a solid reason why the writer has not updated a particular series, or they have not yet posted the story that they might have previously discussed. The reason they have not already posted it is not because they enjoy making you suffer, nor because they are an awful, terrible person who wishes to see how long you will cling on to their every post until you get tired and let go. If a writer has not updated a specific series or story, it is because they are not inspired by it, they are still planning it, or they are making alterations to the plot to better and intensify the reading experience. Asking them to update it is not going to suddenly fill them with the desire to write that particular story, so please do not think that.

  • Remember that writers are human beings. We are not robots with the sole purpose to write and update our blogs. We have lives, jobs, studies, and social lives to uphold outside of writing fan fiction, just like you do. Content creating is a hobby. Sure, lots of us continue to pursue that into a future career, though for now, on our blogs, this is sheerly something that we do in our own free time for free. Before you think to demand us of something that we gain no monetary value from, think again.

  • Deleting these sorts of demanding messages is only an alternative; the true solution is that they stop being sent altogether. Stop trying to tell writers to ignore these messages, and rather, stop sending them in the first place. We can delete, block and ignore, but the messages will always come back and the moment we say something about them, we get sweet little messages trying to put us into our supposedly righteous place because we stepped out of line and spoke our true feelings for once. May I reiterate my statement from three bullet points back by saying that is seriously fucked up.

All in all, please, before you think to send a writer a message in regards to one of their stories, learn what the difference is between being demanding and being supportive. There are ways to ask a writer about their progress on a story or series without blatantly begging or demanding them of its current status. If you wish to support a writer and encourage them to continue with the updates, send them positive, complimenting messages about the piece by detailing how you adored the story, what elements of it hooked you, etc. instead of not even hinting your enjoyment in the slightest through a message that bluntly states: When is the next update?

This is a simple matter of mutual respect between the readers and the writer. You scratch my back, and I will scratch yours. I can tell you for sure that any writer would much rather no message at all than one that demands them to update. So, if you are thinking to send in something that blatantly requests them to update the next chapter or post a new story, then close the browser and walk away because we do not want your twisted concepts of enthusiasm and support. Silence is more comforting than that.

This is sketchy as hell.

For people who see this post… why? Why would anyone like this?
This is a weird invasion of childhood moments that weren’t released by choice.

You don’t just get someone’s yearbook. 
You either go to the school those years, or you hunt this down from someone else that has one.

Everyone wants to know whatever they can about Ryan’s past, but can we at least let him decide when he releases or okays pictures from his own childhood?
It’s exciting and fun to know more about someone!
This is not one of those times.

Leaving out the name of the school makes no difference.
It’s still creepy and weird.

“For the sake of his privacy”
If there was any care at all for his privacy this wouldn’t have been posted.
Especially not on a side account with no other posts than to reblog this same thing.

I blacked out the name just for the fact that they shouldn’t get more named recognition for this kind of negative digging.

If people out there care for Ryan’s actual privacy and life, please…
Please.
Give this post no notice when you go by it.
Don’t encourage this kind of hunting stalking behavior.

Ryan should mean more to this to any true fan who cares deeply for his well being and privacy of his life.
If he wanted it released, it’d be out on an Extra Life or a stream.

Fuck.

8

Everything you think of
Will become all of me
Look at me and be my lady
You’re my  t w e n t i e s

Jeonghan during SVT Japan Concert - part one | part two | part three (+bonus)

This shot from the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope shows a maelstrom of glowing gas and dark dust within one of the Milky Way’s satellite galaxies, the Large Magellanic Cloud (LMC). This stormy scene shows a stellar nursery known as N159, an HII region over 150 light-years across. N159 contains many hot young stars. 

12x19 Coda

Castiel had seen it.

Castiel had seen the future. What this nephilim - this child - had planned for the world and specifically what was in store for Castiel himself. It was beautiful, like a scene out of a dream and Castiel couldn’t bear to part with it: not now, not ever. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever fantasized about and seeing it play out right before his eyes was enough for him to want the child to live - and live with all its powers.

When he came back to himself, their threat gone, he quickly confessed what he believed should be done with the child to Sam and Dean and when they put up a fight, he made sure to stop it before it got out of hand. He didn’t enjoy seeing them become so lifeless and would have done anything to see it play out another way, but he didn’t have a choice, they would understand soon enough. They would understand when they saw the future.

DEAN would understand when he saw the future. He would understand why Castiel couldn’t argue his decision and he would understand why things had to go the way they went. Because in the end…. In the end Castiel wasn’t so concerned about the world as a whole and what it turned out to be. No. His focus was more on the image that pertained to him. To him and to Dean.

The image of the two of them, arms wrapped around one another as they laid in Dean’s bed. He had one hand stroking up and down Castiel’s back and the other running through the hair on the back of his head. Castiel saw himself with his eyes closed, felt himself at peace for once in his life as Dean hummed softly - one of the tunes Castiel had listened to over and over again on that cassette tape - and gently pressed his lips to Castiel’s forehead over and over again.

Castiel saw his future. And there was no way in HELL he’d be able to give that up.

Castiel saw that his happiness was just within reach.

Or so he thought.

  • Keith: "It's good to see you safe Matt."
  • Matt: "Keith??"
  • Matt: "Is that you? Its been a long time, man. I haven't seen you since that emo phase of yours happened. Still going strong and as edgey as ever huh :D "
  • Pidge, wheezing with tears in her eyes: "Beautiful"
  • Hunk, red faced on the floor: "I trust him with my life"
  • Lance, gasping for air: "Pidgeon you were right y ou were f ucki n rig h t"