perch!

If you were to take a 22-pound rock and fling it 620 miles straight up … you would have superpowers. And an anger management problem. The gravitational force the rock would experience at that altitude is still about three-quarters of what it would be on the surface. That means our planet is constantly begging every single satellite we’ve put into orbit to come back like some kind of crazed ex. An object like the ISS must maintain an astounding steady speed of 17,000 miles per hour just to stay in its 200-plus mile orbit. Any less and it’ll crash down to Earth. Any more, and it escapes our gravitational pull and rockets away into space. The ISS is, in fact, constantly losing altitude – requiring the craft that dock with it to give it regular boosts … just not too much of a boost.

Isaac Newton likened this phenomenon to a cannon perched atop a very high mountain. If the cannon were capable of firing its ball fast enough, the ball could fall toward the ground, but miss it entirely. Similarly, another great mind once said the knack to flying “lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.” That’s what every single craft in orbit must perpetually do: Suck at hitting the ground.

4 Things About Space Travel You’re Picturing Totally Wrong

anonymous asked:

Supercorp: Lena and Alex bond over video games and their girlfriends have a hard time getting their attention whenever they're playing Call of Duty.

Kara slid the key into her apartment door and walked through, immediately dropping her bag when she was on the other side.

She rolled her eyes at the sight of Lena perched on the end of the couch, headset on, game controller in hand as she shouted at the characters on screen.

‘You call yourself an Agent, Danvers? What kind of shooting was that?’ Her girlfriend yelled incredulously through her headset at Kara’s sister.

There was a pause and then a huge chuckle from Lena.

‘Do you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?’

Another pause.

'I do more than kiss your sister with my mouth…’

Lena snorted.

'You started it…’

Kara hung up her coat and rolled her eyes again. It was her fault really; she had innocently mentioned at game night last week that Lena had a copy of Call of Duty at her apartment. Alex’s eyes had lit up as she had immediately pulled Lena into the kitchen to discuss tactics and playing with her online.

Kara had only wanted her girlfriend and sister to bond.

The next evening Kara had come home to discover Lena in a pair of sweatpants, engrossed in a mission with Alex online.

Pleas of ’30 more minutes’ had turned into 3 hours and Kara had gone without anything more than a quick kiss from Lena all evening.

Two evenings later, Kara has walked into a similar scene, but this time Alex was on the sofa with Lena.

'Your girlfriend is really good!’ Alex called over her shoulder at Kara, 'for a civilian…’ she teased Lena.

'Oh, you wana go Danvers?’ Lena teased back, bumping her shoulder into Alex, 'we’ll head to the shooting range and I’ll show you just how good this civilian is.

Kara grinned, happy that the pair of them we’re getting on.

'Is Maggie working late tonight?’ Kara asked.

She was greeted by silence; only the sound of gunfire filling the room.

Kara tried again, but again there was no response from the two women sitting on the couch.

Kara sighed and walked towards the sofa and gently tapped Lena on the shoulder.

Lena jumped and turned to face Kara, taking in the slight raised eyebrow.

'Hi darling!’ She exclaimed and turned her head to place a kiss on Kara’s cheek, but tried to keep her eyes on the TV; she instead ended up kissing the air.

'I’ve been asking if Maggie is working late tonight and you’ve both been ignoring me’ Kara pouted and poked Alex in the shoulder.

'Sorry Kara! We’re playing a two player mission and… Lena! On your right!’ Alex yelped and Lena spun back round, her tongue poking out as she shot in the direction Alex had shouted.

Kara shook her head and went back to the kitchen to prepare dinner; she knew there was no way she was getting any help from her two favourite women.

A week later and Kara was no longer finding it cute; Lena has barely spent any time with her in the evenings and judging by the texts Kara had received from Maggie, Alex had been no better.

It stopped tonight.

Kara contemplated her options before sending a quick message to Maggie;

Lena is playing again. Guessing Alex is glued to the sofa?

It didn’t take long for the response to come through;

Oh yes. You’ve created a monster Little Danvers! Alex hasn’t touched me in a week…

Kara scrunched up her nose before tapping out a quick reply;

TMI Maggie!

Kara could just imagine Maggie laughing; she enjoyed playfully teasing her a little too much.

Kara wandered towards her bedroom, amazed that Lena still hadn’t noticed that she was home. Her phone buzzed in her hand;

It’s your fault LD… but it has given me an idea… you game?

Kara was intrigued; she had an idea of where Maggie was heading, but didn’t want to think about helping her sister get laid.

Distract them? Kara quickly replied.

I don’t need any details; she’s still my sister! She added as an afterthought.

Bingo! Black lace is always a good distraction ;) came the reply.

Kara groaned and pushed her glasses back up her nose. She chuckled as her phone buzzed again;

Sorry LD!

Kara threw her phone on the bed and quickly undid her shirt, a plan starting to form in her mind.

***

Meanwhile at Alex’s apartment, Maggie was rummaging through Alex’s wardrobe for a plain white shirt. She was in just a pair of black lace boxers, having decided against a bra.

She found one and pulled it on and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. The shirt was slightly too large, but added to the overall effect she was going for. 

Maggie checked herself over in the mirror before heading towards where Alex was engrossed in her game with Lena.  As an afterthought, she quickly removed the handcuffs from her uniform belt that was hanging over the back of a chair.

Maggie leaned against the wall, just out of Alex’s eye line, her ankles crossed, and handcuffs dangling from one finger. She chuckled as she heard Alex reprimand Lena for getting shot, good job Little Danvers, she thought.

Maggie cleared her throat.

***

Kara pulled on Lena’s kimono, the silk gliding over naked skin; she had decided to forgo anything underneath. 

She let her hair down from the bun it had been in all day ran her fingers though it a few times.

Kara wandered out to the bedroom and sunk onto the sofa next to Lena, who finally noticed her girlfriend was home.

'Hey love’ Lena smiled and Kara lent forwards to place a quick kiss on her cheek, 'we’re nearly at the end of our mission…’

'That’s ok’ Kara replied and put her legs across Lena’s lap.

Lena noticed the sudden pair of legs and looked at Kara, her eyes going wide as she noticed the slightly open kimono, her kimono, which was barley covering her very naked girlfriend.

Kara suppressed a chuckle as she watched Lena’s eyes dilate.

'It’s fine babe, you finish your game with Alex’ Kara reassured Lena as she pulled on the tie to the kimono, the silk gliding open now there was nothing to hold it in place.

Lena turned her attention back to the TV, but found that her eyes kept darting back to Kara’s naked form lounging next to her.

Kara started to run her fingertips over her body; gliding over the swell of her breasts, down to her stomach and back up again. She noticed the way Lena’s eyes kept darting back to her until her character got shot.

Lena winced as Alex yelled through the headset, what was that Luthor? What’s going on there? Lena squeaked out a one worded response; she wasn’t about to explain to Alex that she was being distracted by Kara lying naked next to her, touching herself.

Lena re-doubled her efforts to concentrate and complete the mission as quickly as possible, but nearly dropped the controller when Kara let out a low breathy moan. Lena turned her head sharply to find Kara teasing and pinching her nipples.

Lena gulped.

Kara retained eye contact with Lena as she slid one hand lower and lower until she brushed through her soft curls to the wetness beneath. She circled her clit a few times and bit her lip to suppress a moan.

Lena sat frozen in place, torn between wanting to watch Kara or replace Kara’s fingers with her own.

Kara’s finger slid lower to gather up some of the wetness coating her lips. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and sucked them clean.

'Alex…Alex… You there?’ Lena managed to stutter into her headset, 'you’re on your own…’

Lena removed her headset and threw it onto the coffee table along with the controller before laying over Kara and kissing her passionately, growling at the taste of Kara’s arousal.

***

Alex turned around as Maggie cleared her throat, her mouth going dry as she took in her girlfriend’s attire.

Her hair was down; soft, messy curls framing her face; a slightly too large shirt that Alex recognised as one of her own, nipples hard underneath. Alex’s eyes travelled down to the lace boxers and she let out a moan; Maggie knew she had a weakness for lace underwear.

The handcuffs glinted in the light and Alex licked her lips. She removed her headset, set it down on the sofa and stalked towards Maggie, reaching out for the cuffs, thoughts of Maggie cuffed beneath her running through her mind.

'Uh uh’ Maggie tutted, 'as your hands have been far too occupied with that controller all week, I’m cuffing your hands exactly where I can see them.’ Maggie tilted her head, waiting for confirmation from Alex that she was ok with that scenario.

Alex nodded and practically ran towards the bed.

Maggie laughed as her girlfriend bounced onto the middle of the bed and waited patiently. She snorted when she heard Lena’s voice come through the headset telling Alex she was on her own.

Maggie walked slowly towards the bed, making Alex wait for her.

'Lie down, hands above your head Danvers’ she instructed.

Alex complied, sighing in contentment as Maggie straddled her waist and leaned forwards to feed the handcuffs through headboard and click the cuffs round her wrists.

'I’m going to make you beg…’ Maggie whispered into Alex’s ear, 'You don’t get come until I say Alex. Understood?’

Alex moaned out in agreement.

'You’re never going to ignore me in favour of that video game ever again’ Maggie murmured as she ran her tongue over the shell of Alex’s ear, smiling as Alex shuddered beneath her.

***

The next morning Kara awoke to herself and Lena tangled on the couch, clothes strewn everywhere.

She reached onto the table to grab her phone and laughed out loud at the message from Maggie;

Mission was a success! I’ll spare you the details ;)

Yes, Kara agreed taking in the worn out CEO asleep on her, the mission was most definitely a success. 

3

Requested by mira-mage-mira


You cursed the contraption around your neck, and you cursed the person who put it there. Of course, not out loud. The man controlling you would hear and give you a painful shock if he knew you were being disobedient.

From your perch on the top of a skyscraper, you could see most of San Fransokyo.

“Your target is right below you,” your handler told you through your earpiece. You unfurled your wings and dove off of the building. You ignored the screams of the people below, only focusing on the man you had to stop. One you were within range, you shot a bolt of lightning at the man. However, some sort of ball hit the man first, and it encased him in some kind of substance that dispersed the electricity.

“Sorry, sir,” a tall woman apologized. She broke another colored ball over his head, which melted the goo. “I figured you’d rather be covered in stuff than electrocuted.”

However, before you could try again to go after your target, a boy riding what looked like a large red robot stepped in front of you.

“I have some concerns,” the robot commented, his hand held up like he was saying something important.

“Yeah, so do I,” the boy stated. “Why are you after him?”

“It’s not-” you started, though you were cut off with a scream as the collar sent a shock through your body.

“Patient is being electrocuted,” the robot commented.

“We need to get that collar off of her, Hiro” another male voice added. You couldn’t tell where it came from. “I don’t want to try to laser it off.

“On it,” the boy, Hiro, stated, jumping off of the robot and going towards you. He looked closely at the collar, as you just watched him, afraid to say anything for fear of another shock. “It’s some kind of electronic lock.” He started poking at the collar, and after a little bit, it opened up and fell to the ground. You were free.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed, pulling your savior into a hug.

Hiro laughed and hugged back, patting your back. “Don’t mention it,” he replied. The rest of his team was gathered around now, looking at you. Hiro introduced each of them for you, and you introduced yourself in return. “So, uh, why do you have wings and electricity powers?”

You shrugged. “Science?” you replied. “Experimentation.”

“Ha! Knew it!” Fred exclaimed. He pointed to Honey Lemon. “Told you.”

“Where do you live? We can take you home,” Hiro offered.

“With the guy who did this to me and put that on me,” you replied, pointing at the collar.

“Okay, well…” Hiro said, trailing off to think. “I’ll take you to my Aunt Cass. She might know something we can do. And at the very least, there’s, uh, a spare bed for tonight. Baymax will be able to monitor you to make sure there’s no after-effects of the shock and everything.

You smiled at the team of heroes, especially Hiro. He was very well named. “Thank you so much, really. Let me know if there’s anything I can do in return.”

“Well, I’m sure H-” Gogo started with a smirk, cutting herself off when Wasabi elbowed her with a glare.

Say I Love You... (Part II)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean tries to take his feelings for Y/N to the next level with a confession, but will he fall through or chicken out…?

Part 1.

                                                        ~*~*~*~

The brisk winds of Lebanon course through the empty bunker, licking up Y/N’s arms as she sits in the library, feet up on her seat and a book perched on her knees. It’s a frigid Autumn’s morning, the hallways whistling in the quiet. She’s supposed to be researching. Sam had left her trying to find them a case, something to busy themselves for the time being, but somewhere along the way she was distracted by a stray book left open on the table.


Licking her thumb, she flips to the next page, eyes focused profusely, that she doesn’t hear the heavy clunk of boots against the floor.


“You’re up.”


Y/N’s gaze lifts and head swerves in the direction of the voice—Dean. Standing in the entrance, pajama-clad, head-headed and sleepy-eyed. He must have just woken up, she figures, as she sets the book down and the corner’s of her mouth twitch up.


“You, too. Finally.”


Dean scoffs and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, barely. I’m still semi-asleep.” He says as Y/N makes her way over to him, smiling warmly, and wraps her arms around his neck in a warm hug. The elder Winchester chuckles softly, then pecks her hair that smells of lavender and milk.


Y/N pulls away with a devilish smile. “I can wake you up…”


“Not now.” Dean laughs. The crinkles by his eyes come out. Y/N tries not to stare. “It’s too early for that.”


They brew coffee and burn the omelet they tried to make and it everything anyway. Sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling limply like a doll’s, Y/N  tosses some burnt bacon into her mouth.


“So…” She chews. “What’s today’s agenda?”


Dean shrugs from the floor where he’s seated, chugging black coffee like its water. He’s still in his pajamas, still messy-haired and his voice is a bit croaky and rough from his deep slumber, but he looks more awake now. More here. Y/N is grateful for that. He should be here, she thinks. After their conversation the previous week back in that motel, that’s all Y/N wants from Dean. Presence. Being. She remembers being worried sick about him a few days before the hunt when the elder Winchester had seemingly fallen into a depression of sorts. He’d shut everyone out, became a recluse. Seeing him here now, smiling, drinking coffee and rubbing her Achilles heel, Y/N felt her heart swell with relief.


“Do you….uhm…” Dean speaks suddenly, reeling the young girl back to reality as she turns to him.


Her brows quirk up in query. “Do I…?”


“Uhm….Do you wanna go out today? Like, an old fashion date? It’s been a while since we’ve been on one of those”


“It has been a while since we went out.”Y/N affirms.


Dean feels a swell of hope within his chest, but tries not to show it. “So that’s a yes? I thought that maybe we could ditch work today and hang out. Maybe do other things.” The elder Winchester smirks at Y/N, tickling her heel, and she squeals as she pulls it away. “What do you say?”


“Yeah, that would be fun. Where do you want to go?”


“It’s a surprise. Can’t tell you.”


“Is it fun?” She asks. Dean nods curtly. Y/N then smiles once more, hopping off the counter. She bends down to capture his lips in a quick and sweet kiss, then pulls away, pecks his nose and runs off to get dressed.


                                                         ~*~*~

Dean remains behind in the comfort of the silent kitchen, lips still buzzing from the kiss. His hand, involuntarily, floats up to his mouth and he runs his thumb across it. God.


God, this girl.


It’s amazing how much she can affect him just like that, he thinks as he rises to dump his cup in the sink. It’s amazing and scary. He’s never felt this way before; he’s never wanted to, and yet here he is, stomach filled with violent butterflies and wanting it to never stop.


Wandering through the bunker, Dean makes his way into his bedroom to get changed for their date. They’re going to the nearby lagoon to drink beer and see who can skip the most stones, and then, if the heavens are in his favor, he’ll gather the courage to tell her. To confess.


Three little words: I love you.


Dean has never thought that he’d be in a position where he’d have to utter them, where he’d be scared shitless to utter them, but he’s realized that dwelling on that won’t do any good. The time has come, inexorable and scary and real, and so the only option he has is to fall through with his destiny.


I Love You.


He’s been saying it in his head religiously, like it’s a chant, a mantra that connects him with the higher beings somehow. Throwing on a grey undershirt and a blue-black flannel, the elder Winchester tosses his pajamas onto his bed and then moves to get the keys from his bedside drawer. It’s full of little trinkets; bullet shells, coins, medallions and receipts with unholy numbers for beers. Dean trawls through it all until he finally finds the key. He palms it.


The drive to the lagoon is relatively long, an entire forty five minute journey up the road then into the valley and out. Dean’s hand steers the wheel while the other arm hangs limply out the window, facing the vicious touch of the breeze.


Seated in the passenger’s seat, Y/N’s legs are crossed up Indian-style on the leather. She’s wearing her date-dress;a pleated peach-colored skirt that stops mid-thigh with a fitting strapless torso. Her hair, soft, silky tresses of y/h/c dance in the wind, and Dean tries to remind himself to keeps his eyes off her and on the road if he even wants to make it to their date.


“Someone looks nice.” He comments, casting brief glance at his girlfriend.


She blushes and tries to hide it by turning her head to the window, chuckling and shaking her head. She then turns back to him. “I know.”


“Do you, now?”


“You’re looking nice, too.” Y/N smiles as she takes the elder Winchester’s hand in hers and starts tracing shapes on the back. “I mean, you always look nice, but today it’s especially nice.”


“Nice save.”


“Wasn’t it?”


Dean laughs, shaking his head, and Y/N only smiles like she’s so proud of herself for drawing it out of him. He’s noticed that about her before—how she’ll say something, something dorky and goofy and funny and then wait until he acknowledges it with a laugh to pride herself in it. When he brought it up to her once, she thought it was embarrassing. Dean thinks it’s adorable. She’s adorable.


She drags her finger along the back of his hand in random lines and curves and zigzags, like she’s drawing a map.


The car slides down a sloping tarmac road, into a grass clearing and then further down until the little woods surrounding the lagoon are in sight. Dean kills the engine and then yanks the keys out as Y/N reaches into the backseat for their things.


“I’ll get the beer.” The elder Winchester garbs the six pack. He climbs out. They walk down to the lagoon because it’s not too far, and they like the feelings of their hands pressed together as they traipse down the paths. The grass has been trampled on and all that remains is a narrow path of dirt that leads into the woods.


Y/N, smiling and glowing with excitement, squeezes Dean’s hand as she turns to him. “So this is the surprise, huh?”


“ I remembered how much fun we had the last time we were here with Sam and Cas. A pretty long time ago, before we even started dating, but…” He falters a bit, trying to grapple for words that can describe what he’s feeling because even he is lost. He might already be accepting of it, but Dean still needs some getting used to with speaking of love.


But he forces himself on, swallowing thickly as his nerves come alive. He squeezes Y/N’s hand in his a bit.


“…I can never forget that day, even if I wanted to.” He admits. “Stupid, huh? Yeah, I uh…I know. But, it’s only because that day was the day that I…that I…”


“Dean.”


They stop walking as Y/N steps in front of the elder Winchester, blocking him.  His footsteps halt and he stills.


“Y/N, what’s up?” Dean asks, disconcerted. The young girl gapes at him, big y/e/c eyes that are swimming with something, something profound and real, and it’s only then that he notices the shift in atmosphere—the solemnity, the intimacy. Y/N is smiling at him—really smiling, with dimples so big you could eat soup out of them, and her eyes are little slits in her face.


She lifts his hand to her cheek and holds it there for a bit. The lagoon is no less than twenty feet away. Dean splinters, because it’s soft and it’s warm and Christ, now, say it now…


“Y/N, I….” His tongue feels swollen and heavy and he’s beginning to panic. He wants to smack himself over the head, because he’s a hunter, dammit, these shouldn’t be the things that make his knees wobbly….but they are.


She is.


‘Y/N, I love you’, he wants to say.


“Dean, is something wrong?” The young girl’s brow furrows, gaze swimming with concern. Dean gulps, shaking his head.


“No, nothing’s wrong, I just…”


“You look a little flush.” Y/N places a cold hand on his warm forehead then pulls it back. “You’re a little warm—sure everything is fine?”


“Let’s keep moving.” Dean sidesteps her and then walks quickly and jerkily because he’s knees feel like jelly and his head is spinning. He needs a beer.


The Lagoon is big and blue and surrounding by large rocks towering fifty feet high as an enclosure. The only leveled land is the little patch of grass that he and Y/N walk onto, emerging from the forest.


As soon as they see it, nostalgia washes over them. This is where it happened, Dean thinks. Where he first realized his feelings for Y/N. Where he opened the gate for love to sneak into his heart like a burglar in the night.


He wouldn’t trade it for the world.


“Can I have a beer?” Y/N asks, laying out their blanket on one of the rocks. She dumps her bag and  the beef-jerky nearby and walks over to her boyfriend. She slides a beer out from the packaging, then uncaps it and takes a long sip.


“Ah, that’s refreshing.” She pulls it from her lips, wiping her mouth. Then she tips it at Dean, raising her eyebrows like it’s an offer. “You want some?”


“I’ll get my own.”


“We always share our beer…?” Y/N’s voice harbors an edge to it, and before he knows it, she sits and faces him, eyes swimming with concern.


“Dean,” She begins. “ What’s going on? You’re acting strange.”


“Nothing.”


“Stop lying to me.”


“I’m not lying, Y/N. Nothing is wrong, okay? Nothing. Let’s just…” The elder Winchester’s voice melts away, his voice exasperated, tensed, muscles twitching. Dragging a hand down his face, Dean shakes his head a little and wonders what is happening.


This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He tries to salvage the moment, refill it with heart and intimacy as he turns to his girlfriend but Y/N’s head is already bowed sullenly. Her hair hangs in a rich y/h/c curtain across her face.


At this, Dean feels his heart wrench. He sighs, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Y/N….”


“I’m just trying to be there for you.” She says in a small voice, hush, vulnerable. Dammit, she’s so damn vulnerable. A swell of sympathy wells in the hunter’s chest as he scoots closer and engulfs her in a hug. Her head is on his chest, and she feels small and fragile and he wants to make her feel better.


“I know.” Dean responds. “And I appreciate it—really, I do…I’m just….” Shutting his eyes, he shakes his head.


“You’re just Dean. You don’t want anyone to help you. You just want them to watch you burn yourself to the ground.”


“Y/N, that’s not what I meant—“


“We talked about this just the other week.” Y/N whips around to face him face marred by anguish.


Her brow is furrowed and her eyes have glazed over; Dean can tell she’s holding back her emotions, trying not to burst, but it’s like watching a balloon filling with air, just waiting for the inevitable pop that doesn’t seem to come.


“I want to help you, Dean—I thought I did, but, God— you make it so hard sometimes.”


“It’s not like I’m purposely trying to.”


Y/N says nothing, instead waving him off as she reaches for her beer and then taking a big sip from the bottle. Her head tilts back and she chugs it. The light is leaking onto them through the partings in the trees overhead and the lagoon is glinting in the sun’s light. Birds are singing.


Dean’s gaze lingers on the girl before him as she fiddles with the label on the bottle. She isn’t angry per se—she can’t be. It would take a lot more than his mere stubbornness to get Y/N angry, the elder Winchester knows, but she’s upset, and….


“Y/N…”


“What?” She glances over her shoulder, un-amused. The sun spreads a warm glow of light over the profile of her face.


Dean is sweating.


The tips of his fingers go as cold as ice and he can feel his muscles tense. Everything around him stops; he stops. It’s like his body has halted functioning, because he can’t even seem to get breath in his lungs and blood in his fingertips and face and do it, do it now, he thinks but—


“Dean…?”


“I love you.” The words are forced out of him.


Dean lets the silence that follows hang in the air, his chest still tight and wrought with butterflies. Y/N’s eyes go wide, the confusion and worry melting away gradually as she lowers her beer.


She looks at him.


Really looks at him.


And the elder Winchester feels his mind spiral into a panic because he realizes—now what?


He’s said it. The words have escaped him and his proclaimed his affections and yet nothing is happening. The seconds are floating by like wisps of wind. Y/N is saying nothing, shock-ed still, and having not anticipated this, Dean begins to panic even more.


“Uhm…” he stumbles, averting his gaze. “…yeah, that came out of nowhere. Never mind that, sorry.”


Y/N’s eyes are still glassy-and perplexed, her face looking like she’s truly baffled by this claim. “You love me.” She says, sounding it more like a statement than a question.


The elder Winchester rubs the back of his neck, abashed, as a warm blush warms his face.


“I….”


“Dean I…” He waits, feeling his skin tingle,..And then Y/N laughs.


She laughs.


It’s a brief and precise laugh, chuckle, really, that sounds disbelieved, and Dean nearly dies right there on spot, and he wants the earth to swallow him and he stumbles to try and backtrack and tell her to forget it when he feels fingers lace with his.


The green-eyed hunter glances down at their hands. Y/N’s sits enveloped in his, tiny, fragile, like that of a porcelain doll.


He casts his gaze up.


And she’s crying.


“You love me…”The tears are soft and very feint, but he can see them. She’s crying. She’s crying and he loves her.


Dean feels a lump in his throat bob up and down, and he swallows. His voice is hoarse, croaky. He’s glad he’s sitting down because if he were standing he’d end up on the floor minutes ago. “I do..”


“You’re not just saying this to ease the tension?”


“What?” His face is incredulous, offended, even. “Of course not.” He insists. “I mean, it—Jesus, Y/N…what does that mean? You don’t think I mean it?”


“I want to be sure.”


“Well, then be sure—I mean it.” Dean says and squeezes the young girl’s hand for emphasis. Her gaze then slides from his face to their hands and back up as Dean waits. He wants her to say something, to respond.


And she does.


In the best way possible—because as soon as their gazes meet, the silence growing heavier and unbearable and eating Dean up from the inside out, a smile breaks through Y/N’s face and then—


She kisses him.


String-like arms wind round his neck like veins and the feeling of warm, soft lips pressed on his encompasses Dean. He stumbles back a bit, bringing her with him as she rolls on top of him. Her lips never falter. She kisses him, devours him.


When she pulls away, eyes half-lidded and lips barely parted, Y/N smiles sadly and Dean notices the tears in her eyes.


She sniffles, overcome by her emotions, and then the words that leave her lips melt him—destroy him, a like meteor crashing into an oncoming planet, like the strike of a match that sparks a fire.


“I love you, too, Dean Winchester.”


                                                     ~*~*~

Of course he came through! it’s Dean!

Thank you for reading; as usual likes and reblogs are much appreciated. Also, feel free to follow to see a few more one-shots and imagines or to send in a request and have me write it for you because I do actualyl do that (i’m sorry if have sent in a request and its not yet out I’m a terrible procrastinator)

I can remember when none of those houses existed. I can remember being in this same spot in our backyard, my tiny bird-like form perched up on my papa’s shoulders, both of us looking out at those rolling catalina hills and feeling small and yet enormous; the only people in miles of uninterrupted wilderness. I remember how dark it was at night. How the only lights were the stars and a small spattering of gold-lit windows of the few houses on Edwin, strewn sparsely over the hills and into the valley below. No subdivisions. No endless sprawl of cookie-cutter houses and fluorescent street lights.
I used to have a reoccurring nightmare about returning to these hills as an adult and not being able to recognize them; all their wildness smothered away under concrete and unending rows of sickeningly identical stucco and plaster houses.  I would search and search for something familiar until at last I would reach the top of this paved hill and stumble on a single poppy flower reaching out of a crack in the asphalt, and in that moment dream-me would realize I was standing on the Point -the wildflower covered hilltop I used to visit with my horse so that she could graze and I could watch over the canyons and hills and valleys that I, being the selfishly imaginative child I was, imagined as my kingdom. 

I haven’t had that dream in several years, but I feel a waking fear of it like an echo every time I return home and look out at all those houses, creeping closer to all I hold sacred with each passing year. 

anonymous asked:

hey mod party cat what time is it

A small furry object zips around the room, ricocheting off fine arts, couches, a glass of water, out the front door, down from the second floor stairs and perches on your shoulder to meow quietly in your ear, ’it’s partying time!!’ before vibrating into the fourth dimension and blurring out of sight.

Later, somewhere in New Mexico, USA, a single bright light was seen hovering over a local party supplies depot before ascending three hundred meters and vanishing.

Even more later, a fellow sitting in his office picks up the phone, waiting patiently as he’s connected to his partner. “Hey Scully, guess what time it is?”

Broad-winged Hawk 2017 01 – Indian Land, South Carolina, February 25, 2017 – Through the glass, through the screen.I watched this hawk, through the glass doors opening to our backyard, catch, kill and eat a snake between 1 and 2 feet long, then fly up to this perch to watch for another one. If you are not being eaten, you are likely looking to eat. Nature’s way.

Let me see if I understand what’s happening.

States are likely to be allowed to determine
Transgender bathroom rights,
but states were prevented from determining
the bathroom rights of black people,
and they are likely to be refused to determine
the right of anyone to smoke marijuana.

Republicans are weird on this government interference
into our life position.

They hate restrictions,
no, they love restrictions,
no, they hate restrictions…
All they seem to be sure of
is wanting the power of God
over our lives–
which means wanting us
to obey them at all times,
no matter what,
and no questions ever asked.

8

February 26th - Another blustery, wet day and although I had plans, I shelved them and had to be content with a spin around Chasewater. That wasn’t so bad, as I was weary and hadn’t scoped the place out for a while. I checked out the recent dam works, which contrary to local conspiracy theory seemed to make sense, and also noted that the dam road is now closed, which is something that should have been done long ago - only the residents and rangers have business down there and hopefully the locked gate will prevent further outbreaks of fly tipping and ASB.

I had a snack at the cafe, then arced around the lake over a very wet and muddy north heath - I was looking for deer, but saw little wildlife except the burgeoning grebe population and a very depressed looking kestrel on his usual pylon perch. 

Looking for something - anything - to make the ride better, I remembered the cemetery and St Anne’s Church, just over the bypass, as surely the crocuses must be in bloom. I wasn’t disappointed.

I commend visiting this cemetery in the next week or so to any locals - my photos don’t do this veritable carpet of blooms justice and it’s thoroughly captivating. 

I left sometime later in a punishing, rain-soaked headwind, a much happier man.

Important Bird Care Tip!!

Reminder to check on your bird’s feet and nails every so often! Booker is trusting enough to lay comfortably in the palm of my hand, but it may be worth acclimating your bird to towelling and/or their feet being touched in general.

Other things to remember:

When psittacines are standing on a flat surface, their nails should be just above the ground, NOT touching it and/or elevating the tips of the toes!!!

Birds should always have varied perches. They will always prefer the topmost perch to sleep and hang out on. Never place a rough perch or a dowel perch as the very highest.

Birds with normal hip alignment and general good leg/foot health will stand straight on a perch. If your bird is standing on a level perch on both feet (i.e. not resting on one foot) it should not be leaning towards one foot or only be using one foot to bear weight.

If a bird has had long nails for a long time, the quick may have grown further out. Consider (carefully) filing or grinding their nails down instead of clipping to reduce the chances of heavy bleeding.

The bottoms of a birds feet should have skin of relative thickness to the rest of their foot, and not have heavy wear on only one spot. There shouldn’t be any redness (unless caused by holding toys with vegetable dye) or discoloration. The skin shouldn’t be excessively peeling, and there should DEFINITELY not be wounds or “raw” areas!

If your bird has an open wound on its foot, it needs veterinary attention immediately. An infected foot could be deadly.

Keep those 8 lil piggies safe!!!

confession

Patriarchy, first, mutilates boys
and sullies their voice
the lump in the throat-

                 I FEEL, I FEEL SO FUCKING MUCH.

and then the boys grow up broken men
who stare out the window, and hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
and then those broken men
hurt the women who raised them;
laugh at the non-men unlike them

Because inside nothing but, hate, l, hate, o, hate, v, hate, e, hate, hate

the world we live in makes a victim of us all
because the world we live in has the potential to be so fucking beautiful
that’s what I’m starting see, from my perch at the window.