reventón

i want to know everything that makes you smile, or cry. what songs you love and movies that made you sad. i want to know your reaction every time you see my name on your screen: does your heart cringe or does it make you mad? i want to know if, even just a bit, you also wanted to know me and everything that makes me someone who can adore you. it’s a plethora list of things i wanna know about you. it’s also these things i want to forget.
instagram

https://instagram.com/p/BQqPaCODosv/

  • viktor: i bought us matching silver rings yuuri!!
  • yuuri: wow that's so sweet!
  • viktor: i melted down the pole you danced on during the banquet and made them
  • yuuri:
  • viktor: let me explain-
Costco: N7 Training
  • N1: Realize it is raining. Be determined to go to Costco anyway. A little rain can’t stop you! Even though you don’t have a car. It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. You’re tough. You’re tougher than this.
  • N2: Arrive. Be firm when people try to steal the cart you’ve been waiting for for several minutes. Be prepared to Renegade interrupt. You probably won’t hurt that old lady too much. Besides, she’s probably a Reaper agent. She’s got a look in her eyes. Don’t let her fool you.
  • N3: Maneuver through the front door. The faint of heart may turn back here. There’s no shame in this. Some people aren’t cut out for the higher N-levels. Walk through a bizarre blast of heat. Begin to sweat.
  • N4: Why, why, why on God’s green earth did you think Costco on a Sunday was going to be anything less than hell?
  • N5: You must survive this. You must go on. Do not become distracted by the people giving out free samples. No tiny square of cheese is worth standing in yet another line 20 people deep. You can do this. Your hunger is meaningless. You are being purified.
  • N6: Just when the end is in sight, the dreaded Line of Doom stretches before you. It is the most intense battlefield you have ever seen. Why is anyone buying so much smoked salmon? What could anyone need that much smoked salmon for? Realize the woman in front of you is already far more advanced that you: she is purchasing a swimsuit without having been able to try it on. Salute her. She is a brave, brave soul.
  • N7: Load your giant backpack. It seemed like such a good idea at home. Bring a backpack. It is huge. It belongs to your 6′3″ husband. This backpack now weighs half what you do. The Hackett in your head urges you on. Gasping, the weight of the universe on your shoulders, breathe, “What do you need me to do?” “Get on the Skytrain. Yes. That means making it up all those stairs,” says Hackett. “Hope that none of your orange juice cartons explode in there on the way home.”
  • Once home, wear your red stripe with pride as you survey your spoils. So many crackers. So many. So. Many. Eat some. With the cheese you fought so hard for.

Hope this is enough angst for ya 😉

Originally posted by spn-spam

Helpless

“Dean, don’t run away from me!” You barged into the motel room right as Dean threw a lamp. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did. The base of the lamp caught you hard in the temple, knocking you unconscious. 

“Fuck, Y/N, no!” Dean was instantly at your side, turning you from your stomach to your back and cradling you in his arms. He grabbed his flannel from the bed, using it to apply pressure and stop the bleeding from your head. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up!” 

Hot tears dripped onto your face as you stirred, a small groan coming from the back of your throat. “Y/N/N I’m so sorry.” Dean pulled you to his chest as soon as he saw your eyes open, crushing you against him. “I never meant for you to get hurt. That’s why I ran. You can’t be around me like this.” 

“It’s ok, Dean.” You murmured against his chest, repositioning yourself around him, running one hand through his hair and running the other over the angry red mark on his arm. He tried to pull it away but you tightened your grip, refusing to let him pull back this time. “I’m the only one who can make this better. You heard what Cain said. You won’t hurt me. Not on purpose.” 

Dean pushed you back, looking into your eyes. “No, but I already hurt you. Look at you.” He ran his free hand over the bruise forming on the side of your face. “I can’t do this to you.” 

“It was an accident. I’ve had worse.” You laughed it off, rubbing your hand absently over the mark to calm him. It seemed to be working, his muscles relaxing as you touched him. 

“How did you find me?” Dean questioned. 

“I always find -” Your voice trailed off and you stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on one spot.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” You couldn’t answer and Dean panicked as he watched your eyes flutter and roll back in your head and your body drop to the ground in convulsions. “Y/N!” Dean screamed, trying to hold you down to stop you from thrashing. “No, no, no.” Dean begged you. “Stay with me. Please!” 

After several minutes that felt like hours the trashing stopped and Dean scooped you up, running to the Impala and speeding to the nearest hospital. “I need a doctor!” He screamed, carrying your still limp body through the emergency room doors. “Please! She’s not breathing!” He sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face, dripping into your hair as he laid you on a gurney and the doctors rolled you away.

Dean Winchester had never felt so helpless as he did the moment you and his unborn son disappeared behind the gray double doors. 

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