slop cup

So @gneisscastiel and @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow and I were discussing this gif of Castiel’s wing imprints, which… his wings just look HUGE, amirite? Which, naturally, led to a discussion of, “Well, you know what it means when an angel has big wings, right? *wink wink* ” and then they prompted me to write about Dean and Castiel having a discussion about how Castiel is “well-endowed”, so here it is. :D 

Please enjoy a little bit of brevity after this season’s tearful premiere.

(Gif credit to @codestielckles)

Dean puts out a hand to stop Cas, tugging him to a halt just outside the doorway to the kitchen. 

“So, Cas,” he says, as casually as he can muster, which is, of course, Not Very. “Maybe this is crossin’ a line, I dunno, but I… I gotta ask, man. The curiosity’s been killing me. How big are we talkin’?”

Castiel squints at him, doing the (totally-not-endearing) head tilt thing. “What do you mean?”

Dean does not fidget. He doesn’t. He just shifts his weight a little bit, rocks on his heels, and then, belatedly realizing that his hand is still on Castiel’s arm, drops it and rubs his palms across his jeans. “Well, I mean, you said before that your true form is huge, right? Like, Chrysler building size?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, so I’m just wondering: how big is everything else?”

Castiel still looks like he’s not following, so Dean rolls his eyes and gestures to his own shoulders, sweeping out a hand over the top of his shoulder and then wiggling his fingers to indicate feathers. Castiel’s face clears with understanding.

“Oh. Yes. Well, in my true form, I would estimate…” His eyebrows draw together thoughtfully for a moment. “…about 300 yards, from end to end?”

Dean stares at him, blank, and Castiel huffs a quiet noise of amusement.

“…about two and a half football fields, I believe, if that makes it easier to picture.”

Dean whistles quietly between his teeth, impressed. “Son of a bitch.”

Castiel nods and stands just a little bit straighter. It’s subtle, but Dean would almost swear that Cas is puffing up with pride. “I’ve always been ‘above average’, I guess you could say, in comparison to some of the other angels.”

Dean grins and punches him lightly on the arm, barking a laugh. “Hell yeah, you are! I always knew you were packin’! Go you. Okay, so that’s your true form. And now…?”

“Well, since I’m using a vessel and I’m not currently in my true form, everything is scaled down, obviously –“

“Obviously,” Dean agrees, nodding sagely, as if he has the slightest friggin’ clue  how angel proportions work.

“- but I would still say…quite large. Several yards, at least.”

“Dude. That’s awesome.”

Castiel nods, looking pleased and just the slightest bit smug, and Dean takes a moment to build himself up for the next question.

“Okay, so maybe this is weird,” he blurts out, but he’s gotta ask before he loses his nerve and it takes him another eight years to get around to it again, “and feel free to tell me ‘no’, I dunno how angels are about this kind of shit, but can I… can I see?”

He can’t help the hope that creeps into his voice, but his heart sinks at the regretful expression that crosses Castiel’s face.

“I don’t think that’s wise, based on our past experiences,” Castiel says. He raises a hand towards Dean’s face, passing it in front of his eyes – Dean almost thinks Castiel is going to touch his fingertips to Dean’s eyelashes for a second, and his eyes flutter in anticipation – before dropping it. 

Dean nods, thinking painfully of what had happened to Pam. And yeah, he gets it, but he still can’t help wilting a little with disappointment. 

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs. “You’re right.”

Castiel is watching him thoughtfully, chewing just slightly on his bottom lip. It’s a ridiculously human thing to do, and it gives Dean ridiculously inappropriate ides.

“But maybe…maybe you could feel?” Castiel says hesitantly.

Dean perks up immediately, head snapping up. “Really? Dude, that would be friggin’ awesome!” He doesn’t even bother to disguise the eagerness in his voice this time. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Close your eyes,” Castiel instructs, looking amused. “And keep them closed,” he adds, almost like an afterthought, like Dean’s stupid enough to want his eyes burned out of his skull by looking at Castiel’s wings, no matter how awesome and cool and badass they might be. “And hold out your hands.”

Dean snaps his eyes shut, curiously holding out his hands, palms up and cupped. He startles a bit, surprised, when he feels Castiel touch his hands, taking them gently and turning them around so that his hands are in front of his chest, palms facing outward - raised as if trying to protect himself, or ward something away. Which, yeah, that’s not a real comforting thought. But he trusts Cas, so he waits, trying not to grin too stupidly as Castiel releases his hands and moves away, footsteps shuffling farther down the hall.

He waits. And waits, hands held up, ears straining.

The first brush of a feather against his palm makes him jerk even though he’s expecting it, recoiling automatically against the alien sensation, but he immediately wrenches his hands back up and reaches forward cautiously. He presses his palms against soft feathers. They’re buttery soft, and silky, and Christ, some of them are friggin’ long - it takes an entire sweep of Dean’s hand, from up by his head to down past his knees, to follow some of the feathers to their end. He stretches out his arms and carefully feels his way along Cas’ wing, trying to get an idea of the size, and wow, Cas hadn’t been kidding. His outstretched wing, just one of them, fills the entire hallway from floor to ceiling, and it seems practically never-ending. It takes him many awkward, shuffling steps, feeling his way gently along Cas’ wing, before he finds the end of it where there’s finally no more feathers, only the empty hall. 

Cas’ wings are awesome, just like he knew they would be. But also, more sobering, they’re damaged. There are places where feathers are obviously missing, and if even Dean can tell there’s something wrong - Dean, who doesn’t know a damn thing about angel wings - then it’s probably pretty serious. Some of the feathers are rougher, sticking out at odd angles, and he combs them back into place with his fingers without even thinking about it. Castiel makes a pleased, grateful noise, so Dean keeps doing it whenever he stumbles across one.

Finally, Castiel’s wing twitches under his hands and gently pulls away, and Dean lets it go, dropping his hands a little wistfully. 

“You can open your eyes now.”

He does, immediately searching for Castiel’s unsure gaze and holding it. His face splits into a grin, and Castiel seems to relax a little, some of the tension in his eyes easing away. 

“That was awesome, Cas. You’re really somethin’ else.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says quietly, offering a small smile back.

The moment stretches out until Dean notices it and clears his throat, jerking his  head towards the kitchen doorway and effectively bursting the bubble. “So. Yeah. I guess we got sidetracked. Coffee?”

“Coffee,” Castiel agrees readily.

Dean laughs and claps on him the back, steering him through the doorway. “And man, let me just say, if you ever need a volunteer to help take care of -”

He pauses for a second, catching sight Sam standing at the kitchen counter. No one had passed them in the hallway, so Sam must’ve been come in earlier and been in here the whole time - probably trying to drink all the coffee so he can scurry away and leave the pot empty, again, the bitch.

“ - morning, Sam,” he says, cheerfully. He’s in too good of a mood to hold a coffee-related grudge at the moment.

Sam jerks when Dean addresses him, some of the coffee in his cup slopping over onto his fingers, and Dean pauses, taking another look at him. 

Sam is standing stiffly, eyes fixed wildly on Dean and Castiel. He’s holding his coffee cup in a death grip, not drinking from it, not even reacting to the coffee splashing onto his fingers. His shoulders are hunched up around his ears, body weirdly tense.

Dean frowns. “Sam, are you okay - ?”


He shoots for the kitchen doorway, powerwalking like a middle-aged woman trying to beat the neighbor to the newspaper, and then he’s gone, leaving a trail of slopped coffee in his wake - a trail that Dean will have to mop up later, the asshole.

“Huh,” Dean mutters, narrowing his eyes. “That was weird.”

He glances at Cas, but Cas looks just as confused as Dean feels, giving him a small, perplexed shrug.

Dean shakes it off and moves towards the coffee pot. Weird brothers will have to wait until after his caffeine fix. “So Cas - tell me about your four heads.”


Pairing: BTS Taehyung (V) X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Swearing, implied smut

Word Count: 2,263

2: “Not you again.”

17: “Are you upset with me?”

29: “There never was an ‘us’.”

send me a number + an idol

A/N I lost the request for this, but I remembered what they asked for :)

Finally, you were going to do it. You were going to confess your real feelings for Taehyung. You knew it was blatantly obvious that the two of you liked each other, your flirting and playfulness dragging on for far too long. You’d reached as far as spontaneously kissing a couple of times – one a playful peck at the beach and the other in the dark as Taehyung dropped you off at your house.  Just the memory of them both made your body tingle in adoration. You only wondered what it’d be like when you two were in a proper relationship. However, neither of you had addressed the intimate moments while it was all you ever thought about. If he wasn’t going to take charge and tell you, then your only other choice was to do it yourself. And what better way was there to do it than at a party where you’d dressed up and felt good about yourself? It had boosted your self-esteem by a mile, and rejection wouldn’t hurt as much – maybe you’d be able to laugh it off with some of his friends. But you knew that wouldn’t happen.

It was Jimin’s house party – he threw them almost every weekend. While you enjoyed parties, you weren’t so socially confident that you felt the need to attend every single one. However, tonight, Taehyung had insisted you’d go. His persistence had only raised your excitement and expectations for something to happen between you both, so you ventured off to find him. You’d specifically decided not to drink this time, as to avoid forgetting anything that may have happened with Taehyung.

You remembered spotting him waltzing up the grand stairs of Jimin’s house, drink slopping out his cup while he seemed to look exceptionally pleased with himself. Steadying yourself and gripping onto the wooden rail of the stairs, you took a step onto the first stair. A hand landed on your shoulder, and you whizzed round to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

“Y/N! What’s up?” You blinked. “Where are you going?”

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dynamicdiplomacy  asked:

Could I please request some more of that "Anakin saves Padme instead of Obi-Wan in AOTC" AU? Maybe Obi-Wan waking up and being mad at Anakin for going after Padme?

Waking up is frankly a horrible experience and Obi-Wan can’t quite hide it as he wakes up gasping for air, his eyes…no eye, wide as his body spasms with pain.

There’s a shrill little beep, a cry that is so familiar to Obi-Wan and then a hand on his brow with the sensation of cooling and healing Force sliding through his body.

And then its not so horrible to be awake as the pain leaves his body temporarily, Obi-Wan blinking his wet eye up at the duro healer who smiles at him in relief when Obi-Wan calms down. “Can you pull up your shields Master Kenobi?”

The question takes a bit of time to penetrate the fog of his mind but slowly Obi-Wan manages, sliding his barriers in place and releasing the pain to the Force himself.

“Good, good. I’m going to let go now Master Kenobi, so I can fetch a hypospray of painkillers for you. It will be temporary relief but you will need it.” She murmured.

Rasping a bit, Obi-Wan nodded again, wincing when she slowly withdrew from him.

Thankfully she worked quickly and soon set the hypospray into his elbow, rubbing gently at the spot and gently encouraging the flow in his body to pick up the painkiller quicker.

She pulled back slowly, looking expectantly at him.

But Obi-Wan didn’t ask what she expected causing the duro healer to slowly blink, a sad expression overtaking her face. “You… already know.”

Obi-Wan licked his dry lips. “…I knew the moment Dooku put his saber through my spine… but let me hear it.” He sighed.

“Your eye could not be saved at all. At the current moment there is…nothing there though we fixed your eyelid. You can get a glass eye if you wish or a cybernetic one even.” She murmured before taking a deep breath. “But your spine cord… we could not fully reconnect the nerves.”

Obi-Wan closed his eye at that then nodded. “Yes… I figured as much.”

“You’re going to need a lot of therapy come the future Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan nodded mutely.

“..I’ll let you and your padawan speak, I’m going to be writing up the medicines you will be needing to take for the future and I’m sure you want to return to your quarters if possible so I’ll fetch one of the senior healers too.” Obi-Wan listened to her walk away before breathing out and opening his eye again, slowly placing his elbows to the bed to try and push himself up.

Moving from where he had been mutely standing, Anakin reached out and settled one hand behind Obi-Wan’s back and the other on his left upper arm.

Glancing away from Anakin even as the blond helped him sit up, Obi-Wan carefully searched out the soreness and numbness of his body, verifying for himself what the healer had just told him, just needing to make certain…

His spine…

He could still feel the saber slide through his back, not unlike a hot knife through butter.

“I’m so sorry Master.” Anakin’s guilt wrecked voice finally came and Obi-Wan looked up at him as he was finally sitting on the bed, staring at the upset blond and taking note of the faint sign of stubble and the wrinkles of the others tunic. “I-I’d understand if you were angry with me.” He swallowed heavily.

“…I’m not angry Anakin. I’m just disappointed.” He murmured quietly and sighed when the other flinched. “I know that is worse and I apologize Anakin, but I won’t lie to you. I am disappointed…” Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hand over his face, grimacing at the sensation before making a soft noise when Anakin poured a glass of water and held it out to him.

Taking it with care, Obi-Wan slowly sipped the liquid down. “…I won’t be able to leave the temple for quite some time.” He murmured, feeling a bit better for the water.

“I know… therapy and recovery…” Anakin hesitated then slowly sat down on the bedside, staring at Obi-Wan.

Taking pity on the other as he took in the almost violet circles beneath his eyes, Obi-Wan reached out with one hand and rested it on the stubbly cheek. “…Will you help me? I will… require help to adjust again I fear.”

Blue eyes watered at that before Anakin nodded and leaned in, hugging the other tightly.

Some of the water slopped over the cup at that and onto the bed sheet but Obi-Wan didn’t care for that as he leaned into the others body, making a low whimper like noise in his chest that made Anakin hold him tight enough for Obi-Wan’s ribs to creak.

He didn’t ask to be released.

The Jaw Thing

I saw this prompt from padfootdidit and I just couldn’t resist.

early seventh year lily who has a massive crush on james watching him argue with sirius over the crossword and suddenly his jaw does the thing and she drops her pumpkin juice into her cereal      

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SNIC Half Life Show @ Edy Roy Gallery, Burlington, ON

I did not take any of these photos. All rights to original owner. For appreciation purposes only.

Collab List:

SNIC x Slop x Kind

SNIC x Slop x Rose Roads

SNIC x Slop x Yoshinori Kondo

SNIC x Joe Peters x Rose Roads (Pendant)

SNIC x Joe Peters

SNIC x Matt Eskuche

SNIC x Salt


But Hagrid catching Sirius as Padfoot roaming the grounds and mistakes him for a poor stray and his big heart just expands as he goes into animal rescue mode and what choice does Sirius have but to go with him? Hagrid won’t stop thumping his back and he means well but bloody hell it hurts. Hagrid tries to feed him some rock cakes but he’s just had a full meal at supper and, even if he was hungry, he wouldn’t eat that. Howeverhe happily slops at the bucket/cup of ale Hagrid sets down. He sneaks away after Hagrid falls asleep and wanders back into the dormitory half sloshed.