sentimental girl is sentimental

that night changes moment was like,,,,,, such a mess,,,,,,,,,, and they were just in disbelief and had to take a break but they were making jokes and harry was singing about technical difficulties and it was a train wreck,,,,,, but the most uplifting bit about it is that niall just decided to play on anyway and then the rest of the boys joined in and then all of the fans joined in and it’s just like idk that’s easily my fave performance of that song because it just illustrates yET AGAIN that we’re the greatest team that the world has ever seen :’)

Can I just remind people that many bisexual and pansexual people, myself included, use gay as an umbrella term for all people attracted to the same sex and we use it as a descriptor for our and everyone’s same sex attraction because it’s specific to that part of our identity. So please stop policing me for using gay to describe my and characters’ same sex attraction. Using gay as an umbrella term is not the same as invalidating and erasing a bi/pansexual person’s identity.

Elle a grandi. Je l’ai vu partir au loin un sac plein de regrets, avec de l’amour enfoui au fond et quelques cigarettes au-dehors. Je l’ai vu s’enfuir les yeux humides, les bras tombants, l’âme écorchée et le cœur à nu. J’ai ressenti toute cette peine qu’elle n’osait pas avouer, ses faiblesses qu’elle ne pouvait se résigner à montrer. Je l’ai vu pour la première fois telle qu’elle était et je l’ai trouvé belle de mélancolie. C’était le genre de filles qu’on pouvait pas approcher, parce qu’elles sont tant étranges qu’on a souvent l’impression de les déranger. Mais ce que j’ai compris en la voyant partir, c’est que c’était elle qui dérangeait tout le monde. Comme une passante, elle s’est évanouie dans des brumes de foules, le corps amputé par son passé et pourtant, les mains libres de créer son propre monde à elle; en dehors de tous, lointain à la vie, si heureux.
—  L’oiseau-de-nuit (Tumblr blog)

“…Sewed me back together like I did to your doll’s arm last week. And then I woke up in the pitch black, inside a coffin, and had to dig my way out of my own grave. Can you believe that? Can you believe Dad didn’t have the decency to put me on solid ground before ditching?”

Cas leans against the doorjamb and crosses his arms. “I had no control over your corporeal form once you were back on earth,” he interrupts.

“Excuse me, did we ask you?” Dean responds in mock annoyance.

“Are you sure this is an appropriate conversation for a 6-year-old, Dean?”

Dean looks at their daughter and then turns back to Cas with a shrug. “Dude, she’s been running around the house with a pot on her face pretending to be Max Rockatansky for the past week. I think she can handle it.”

Castiel sighs long-sufferingly and steps into the room so he can join his family. He sits with them at the miniature table, his knees bent at an awkward angle from being in a chair made for toddlers. He tugs on one of his daughter’s braids. “What has your father told you already, Sam?”

“He went to Mordor! And it was really hot and he was in the lava, and you came and saved him because you were an angel with wings and stuff. But he doesn’t remember you until you met a couple days later on earth.”

“That’s very good,” Cas comments before turning to Dean. “And why are we telling this story in the first place?”

“It’s your amniversity!”

Dean bops her on the nose. “Anniversary, baby girl. Of when your dad and I met.”

“Didn’t you just tell her about our wedding on that anniversary? And about our first date on that anniversary? Or what about the–”

“Dad likes amniversities,” Sam explains like it’s completely obvious.

Dean smiles at her affectionately, and Cas’ chest tightens in response. “Yes, well, your dad is an old sap.”

“Says the guy who cried on your sixth birthday, right, Sammy?”

“Hey, that was different!”

Cas is drowned out by Dean and Samantha laughing at him as they high five. For the thousandth time he wonders how their adopted daughter ended up being an exact replica of Dean Winchester. 

Maybe Dean will explain that on the anniversary of when they got her. 

It’s a strangely accurate metaphor.
The place where she was, just moments before. We lay in the sun together, smiling, laughing, loving. The moment she left was the exact moment that the sun dipped below the tree line, casting a shadow across the garden. The breeze blew a shiver through my body, and as I walked bare foot back to the house, the grass held a chill that wasn’t present a few minutes before.
Soon, the shadows will lengthen and the darkness will come. I know, that I will spend the next week waiting for the dawn to come again.

u know when you forget the name of someone who was important to you and u die a little bc how could you ever forget that ???