puke is life

Cons of being Norwegian:

• Fucking cold, all the time
• writing about Henrik Ibsen seems to be the only goal a Norwegian-teacher has.


• ??? ??
• please enlighten me, I need some

look no offense but please consider yamasuga

Play This on Repeat @ My Funeral
Huke Lemmings
Play This on Repeat @ My Funeral

From their Upcoming Album “5 Seconds of Screeching”


3rd trimester. I can’t believe we’ve made it this far and it has gone by surprisingly fast. I feel slightly annoyed that I didn’t have that 2nd trimester energy people so often talk about. And slightly more annoyed that I still have to take Zofran to live a puke free life. But really, I couldn’t be happier. I can’t believe in about 12 weeks I will be holding our little guy. Can’t wait, Can’t wait. Now its time to get busy with figuring out what we will need and designing the nursery. And most importantly choosing a name. It’s so hard to pick a name, I feel like this is the most important decison I’ve ever had to make!  

I went to the bank to get some rolls of quarters because fuck laundry and I noticed an interesting little Post-It note at one of the teller’s stations that said: Has your future husband come in yet?

So naturally I proceeded to think about bank teller!Cas and how he’s in his thirties and even though he’s constantly grumbling that the whole true love thing is bullshit, secretly he’s starting to think that maybe he really isn’t going to end up settling down with anybody. Obviously his co-worker and best friend Charlie sees right through him and tries to get him to cheer up and, y’know, actually smile at customers once in a while. When Cas isn’t looking, she sneaks in the hot pink Post-It note and slaps it right where she knows he’ll see it all day long, which sorely ruffles Cas’ feathers as soon as he finds it, but eventually he figures maybe Charlie has a point at least about coming across as a little more approachable to people.

And then there’s Dean, who’s been coming in like clockwork every couple weeks to get quarters for laundry from Cas. And okay, maybe he doesn’t really need to come in that often because Febreze can go a long way, but for some reason, there’s something about Cas and his perpetual grumpiness and dry humor that’s kinda cute. And when all of a sudden Cas starts smiling every time Dean comes in, now that’s really something. It’s shy and doesn’t show any teeth at first, but it’s more than enough to have Dean feeling a little mushy inside every time he leaves.

After the Post-It’s been up a few weeks, Dean finally takes notice of it (he was too busy staring at Cas, okay), and immediately, his heart races because that must mean Cas is in the market, and as for Dean…well, after fooling around for so long, he’s looking to get off of it. Find something real. And maybe it’s stupid and all, but this whole routine he’s got with Cas—exchanging warm smiles, a couple witty one-liners, a brush of hands when he reaches for the rolls of quarters—is honestly as close to a steady relationship as he’s had with anybody in years.

And maybe Dean isn’t satisfied with that anymore.

So the next time Dean goes to the bank, he steals a withdrawal slip and scribbles the words Dinner tonight?, steeling himself as he stands in line waiting for Cas’ station to open up and hoping that he doesn’t puke his heart out.

But when he steps up to greet Cas, he notices that the Post-It is gone and freezes. Did Cas give up?

Or maybe he just found someone better than Dean.

Dean doesn’t even hear Cas when he repeats his name and gives him that squinty-eyed look. Instead, Dean just excuses himself, too embarrassed to even come up with a bullshit explanation, and makes a beeline for the exit. He spends a good chunk of the evening sulking at the local laundromat, seriously considering sneaking a red sock into some other douchebag’s load for saying Zeppelin sucks when a low voice startles him from behind.

“You forgot your receipt.”

He whirls around and nearly stumbles over—holy shit, it’s Cas. But before he can remember how words work and ask him what he’s doing here, Cas holds up the withdrawal slip that—oh, God. Oh, God. Didn’t Dean shove that in his pocket earlier? He frantically pats himself down even though it’s pretty damn clear that Dean was a complete moron and in such a hurry to get out of there that he didn’t even notice that the piece of paper had floated off.

Once he catches his breath, however, he finally spots the chicken scratch right under his hastily jotted proposal:

Only if you promise me breakfast, too.