sometimes I write

“I think that if I ever met a mermaid, I’d want to talk with them about what it feels like to fly. I’m sure their swimming is a similar comparison.”

“Cas, you know mermaids don’t exist, right?” Dean said, a smile playing on his lips and one arm resting along Castiel’s shoulders. Cas rambling on about odd subjects while they lay in bed together was not an unusual occurrence, but an endlessly amusing one for Dean.

Castiel frowned and turned his head to look at Dean.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of come into contact with a lot creatures like that.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, gesturing at himself. “I think with all the hunters that have ever lived, one of us would have noticed if mermaids exist.”

“Not too long ago you would have said that angels didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, but -”

“And you do realize that you’re arguing with someone who has witnessed the creation of all of earth’s creatures since the beginning of time?”

“Um, I mean - I guess…”

“So, you can say with certainty - knowing that humans have only explored less than five percent of your world’s ocean - that there are absolutely no mermaids living there?”

Dean paused, snapping his mouth shut as he stared back at the angel, trying to read between the lines.

“Cas… are you implying that you know mermaids exist?”

Castiel’s amused smile faded into something more nonchalant as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head.

“I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?”

“Cas,” Dean leaned over to make a desperate grab at his arm to keep him in bed and missed, as Castiel had already stood up. “C’mon, Cas. Wait - are mermaids real??”

Castiel grinned and began putting on a robe, cinching it loosely around his waist.

The silence dragged on while Castiel walked over to the bedroom door, tugging it open and turning to glance over his shoulder agonizingly slowly.

“I’ll have to ask the Loch Ness Monster.”

The door shut behind him.

I was Winter and you were Summer and when Fall came and the leaves began to change we found that our love could never last the season
—  Falling Apart
Musing over my loneliness led me back to myself, and showed me that I hold onto the shadows of mere memories better than I do to the people in my life.
—  # I know that the day when everyone leaves is inevitable, so I choose to simply let them go.

Dean slowly realizes that Castiel’s vision is deteriorating. 

Or maybe it had never been all that great.

At least, his vessel’s vision isn’t great and all of that squinting Castiel does isn’t just squinting for the sake of squinting. Dean figures Jimmy may have worn glasses or contacts in his life that Cas had never bothered utilizing for whatever reason. 

He needs to hold his cell phone screen up closer to his face - then back - and then close again while trying to read text messages, all the while squinting.

Dean took him to the movie theater once just for the hell of it and had sat in the back row while Castiel had spent the whole time squinting and asking Dean which character was currently on screen,effectively sucking the fun out of that evening. 

Eventually, after enough evidence, Dean drags Castiel to an eye doctor because as adorable as they are, the squints were apparently a sign of visual impairment and not a constant state of confusion or suspicion.

Sure enough, Cas is blind as fuck and how he’d been getting around all these years is a miracle in itself.  

The doctor sets Cas up with a nice set of bold, black rims not too long after (which, first off, hell yeah) and Castiel actually fucking gasps when he slips them on and sees Dean clearly for the first time. 

“You’re beautiful.” Castiel murmurs, reaching out a hand to gently brush at the freckles along the bridge of Dean’s nose. 

Dean blushes profusely and gives an attempt at a sputter, but doesn’t say anything when Castiel stares at him in awe the entire ride home.

7

PETRICHOR BY LARRYANDGAYSTUFF

MY WONDERFUL GROUP CHAT BABES HANDED ME A SPARKLING FIC IDEA, SO HERE IT IS. HOPE THIS WAS WHAT YOU WANTED, DARLINGS.

Louis moves back home after graduating from college and finds out that Harry hasn’t changed much in the ways that matter and neither have his feelings for him.  His hair is longer and his voice is deeper and he now owns the bakery where they worked as kids.  But his eyes are just as bright and his dimples are just as beautiful and he’s still everything Louis wants.  Niall and Liam basically help them both get their shit together because what else is new.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READS MY LITTLE STORY, YOU’RE ALL WONDERFUL AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. 💖

Those Were Her Words…

Ok so I have been getting THE FEELS lately from gif sets like these, and they remind me of this ~ridiculously cracky~ personal headcanon I have. 

One of my FAVORITE quotes in the ASoIaF series is in AGoT when Ned tells Sansa “When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.” 

And if you’re like me you probably spend way to much time over analyzing and wondering why those 3 words? Why brave and gentle and strong? Where did he get that?!

What if it was something Ned had heard before… From someone else… A long time ago?

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Just Soakin’ In It

Based on this glorious picture of Not Blaine, because I couldn’t resist no matter how much I tried

And throwing some body positivity in the mix because why the Hell not.

Kurt comes home earlier that day, because the heat of the city is just too much to endure it any more–all he wants is to come home, get rid of his clothes, take a shower, maybe drown in it for a minute or ten, and lounge in front of the fan Blaine found at the flea market and that they repaired together.

And suck on ice cubes.

The first sound he hears upon entering the apartment is Blaine whistling softly, almost absentmindedly and Kurt can already feel the stress of the day lifted from his shoulders at the sound.

It comes from the bathroom, so they apparently had the same idea–no big surprise there, Blaine doesn’t like the scorching heat more than Kurt does–and a different kind of activity comes to his mind.

They could shower together, maybe even linger in the tub together? Oh yas, with tepid water and just enjoy each other’s presence …

And if it turns into something hotter (no pun intended), well, they’ll be able to clean immediately, won’t they.

The thought is barely conceived in his mind that Kurt already starts taking his clothes off, marching towards the bathroom.

But he freezes in the doorway.

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Something about Fate

Dean decides to go to a new psychic in town - just for the hell of it, of course - with his roommate Castiel, and doesn’t get the reading he was expecting.

~5.2k

AO3

“Hey, Cas, have you ever been to a psychic?”

Dean watched as Castiel looked up from his book with his eyebrows pinched together.

“No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged.

“Garth texted me. Apparently there’s one in town that he went to yesterday and he’s obsessed. He said she really knows her stuff.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the textbook he had sprawled across their kitchen counter, so he could eat and study at the same time - a sight that was not all that uncommon in their apartment.

“Psychics don’t exists, Dean,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he turned the page. “People who claim to be psychic are scammers hoping to draw in the desperate or the gullible. Garth is the latter, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, he’s not -”

“Remember when Gabriel told him that stop signs with a white rim around them were optional?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from his roommate.

“Duh, Cas. I know that they aren’t legit. Everyone does. But at the very least they’re supposed to be super good at reading people and then you essentially pay them to tell you what their first impression of you is.”

A small smile crept its way across Castiel’s face.

“I could tell you that for free, you know.”

Dean flipped him off as he got up and pulled out an apple from the refrigerator, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

“Whatever. I think it could be kind of cool.”

“Then by all means…” Castiel wrote something down in a notepad and flipped to the next page. “I think you should do it. I have free time tomorrow if you’d like to find this psychic then.”

Dean tossed the apple between his hands.

“You’d come with me?”

“Of course. I would never miss the opportunity to witness someone predicting your death.”

Castiel laughed as Dean flipped him off again.

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Superman is a Cryptid

for @atlasisreal and the peeps in the roseph discord because you wanted superman!Robert and Joseph with a big crush and okay I turned it into cryptid superman you’ll just have to forgive me <3


Joseph stared out the window, day-dreaming more whimsically than a self-respecting father of four probably should. He couldn’t help it, he knew what he’d seen, no matter what other people said. Joseph rested his head on his fist and continued to stare out the window, trying not to think about what a cliché he had apparently become.

“Earth to dad.” Chris’ voice eventually made its way through his daydreaming, making him jump and snap around, away from the window, trying not to seem embarrassed, embarrassment would indicate guilt after all.

“Sorry sorry, what can I do for you kiddo?” Joseph asked, shaking himself out of definitely not a fantasy about a caped hero – and he wasn’t talking about Damien. Damien had a cloak not a cape anyway, he got quite frustrated it you called it a cape, as Joseph had learned early on.

“Are you fantasising about that ‘dashing flying man’ again.” Chris griped, arms crossed, making Joseph seriously regret accidentally referring to him as dashing in front of his eldest.

“No!” Joseph answered, it sounded way too defensive and unconvincing even to his own ears.

“For god’s sake dad he’s not even real.”

“I know what I saw!” Joseph squawked, “And watch your language young man!” He then added, a little belatedly.

“Good to know which one of those things is currently more important to you.” Chris deadpanned, though it was difficult to tell when Chris was deliberately deadpanning and when he was just speaking in Chris.

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It was quite poetic the way she touched

I still remember her embrace.
As she dragged her fingers across my back I could feel the passion in her bones. She sought something more that was never there. Each touch sent a shockwave through my body. Inch by inch I could feel her discovering the different parts of me. I was afraid. I had never been felt in such a way. I was drowning in doubt of her love, but a strange feeling of home passed through her fingertips to soothe me. In this moment my soul laid like putty in her hand. My scars were hers and hers mine. In this time, we were one.

Even so, she let me go

—  Angel’s Touch
First Impressions

AO3 

~2.5k

Castiel works as a teller at his local bank, and Dean is a new mystery customer that brings in a wad of cash and crumpled singles once a week to deposit into his account.

Working as a bank teller was definitely a unique and interesting experience - and one that Castiel generally enjoyed.

Of course, there were always the customers that raised hell when they walked through the door, complaining about incorrect overdraft fees or loan interests, but for the most part, the people were pleasant and Castiel didn’t mind plastering a smile onto his face for five or six hours at a time.

He and the other tellers had their favorite customers that they always talked about, whether for the entertainment factor, or because they genuinely liked them.

There was the nice old woman who always updated the teller on her grandson’s theater career; the middle aged man who generally arrived drunk and so sure that he was a millionaire even though he wasn’t; the college-aged girl who came in with a different hair color every time; and a younger man who kept trying to convince the teller that he was haunted.

Yes, Castiel was sure that he’d seen it all - and then one day, Dean Winchester came through his line.

The moment Castiel looked up as the new face approached the counter, he was thrown off. Sandy and deliberately coiffed hair framed a perfectly symmetrical face that he was sure he’d seen on a famous statue in some museum or another. Soft green eyes blinked at him with an even softer smile as he leaned forward against the counter and tilted his head.

“Hey,” the man said, his voice almost as smooth as the marble his arms were resting against.

“Hello.” Castiel cleared his throat and smiled, praying to God that it looked natural. “How can I help you today, sir?”

The man pulled out his ID and slid it across the counter.

Dean Winchester, it read.

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Living with a werewolf [Pt.2]  Brett Talbot

[Part 1]

A/N: I know this took super long to write, but life is taking quite some time lately with everything that’s going on.

A week of texting through classes and chatting over the phone passed and it was time to get ready or your coffee date with Brett.

You picked something simple but nice enough for a date, put on your shoes, checked your bag one last time and were ready to leave.

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Sometimes

Sometimes,
This vessel does not contain me.
I choose to dig through the soil.
Else, I am asphyxiated.
Like the five rivers of Punjab, I flow.
Raised eyebrows, and hushed judgements.
A loop of rope around their necks,
They are oblivious, but I see.
I break free from the absurdity of normality.
I am the silence before the storm.

cantpoisonitout  asked:

Uhhh if you're taking prompts: 166+194 for stucky+metal hand hmmmm

166: “ Okay.. This is new. ”
194: “ Good boy. ”
Hmmmm …

Freely inspired by this gorgeous and hilarious art @yawpkatsi has bestowed upon us

The scene waiting for Steve when he comes home is, by far, the strangest thing he’s seen so far in this side of the millenium.

And that includes the helicarrier.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “this is … new.”

Bucky looks towards him, hair tied in a bun and left, metal arm, stuck in the freezer.

“Care to explain, Buck?”

“You’ll thank me, Steve.”

“Huh-huh.”

“I promise you’ll like it. Trust me.”

That gives Steve pause and he looks at his boyfriend. To get Bucky to express any sentiment of trust is a tall order–to get Bucky to express that he is trustworthy, an Herculean task.

“Alright then.”

“Go take a shower, and come back here.”

“Yessir.”

“Good boy.”

Steve chuckles as he drops his bag in the laundry room along with his sweaty clothes.

The summer is ruthless, brutal on all of them–he joked with Natasha that he would rather be back in the ice, but she smacked him in return, muttering “too soon” under her breath.

The shower feels good, but turning the water off makes Steve whimper.

“Get back here you big baby, your surprise is ready.”

Steve snatches a pair of boxers (not sure whom they belong to) and practically crawls back to the living room.

Bucky is there, lying down on the soft rug. His summer uniform makes Steve smile: a tight tanktop and skimpy shorts that only highlight the strength of his legs.

Yum.

But as “yum” as he may looks, it’s too hot for “fondue”.

“I’m dying,” Steve whines, lying down next to Bucky. “Climate change sucks-oh!”

The back of his head meets Bucky’s metal arm and cold spreads through Steve.

Not a cold dread, no, a very physical cold–the freezer makes sense instantly, and Steve sighs in delight.

“‘re the best,” he manages to slur, eyes closed.

“Hmh-hm, and don’t you forget it.”

its-the-tenerife-sea  asked:

Hello! I have an idea for the ficlet (feel better btw!). Okay: HS AU with popular!Dean and popular!Cas, they're those two annoying guys who make funny (but also obnoxious) comments in every single class, and make stupid, flirtatious remarks to each other like "Cas looks pretty hot today guys" or "I'm totally dating Dean, everyone" etc. Only thing is, they're secretly in love, but neither will admit it. I've had this idea for a while and I'd LOVE for a talented author to execute it.

Aaaahhh it’s been too long since I’ve done a High School AU and I’ve missed it. Thanks for this one and thanks so much for asking me to fufill the prompt! I hope I do it justice :)

AO3

“Please take your seats quickly. I want to discuss your quiz scores so we can go over any questions you may have before the final test.” Ms. Mills said with a stack of papers clutched against her chest.

Dean stretched his arms above his head as he flopped into his usual seat on the third row, next to the wall so he could lean up against it in times of extreme laziness. He sprawled out accordingly, dropping his backpack to the floor and draping his letterman jacket over his seat until the air conditioning kicked in during the middle of class like it usually did.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Dean said with a nod as Castiel sat down in the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel said, barely looking up as he aligned his binder and world history book neatly on the small desk in front of him.

“How was that student council thingy yesterday?” Dean asked, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.

“Absolutely dreary without your shining personality to brighten all of our days,” Castiel murmured, completely straight-faced.

Dean winked as Ms. Mills began talking again.

“Some of you need to look at your notes from the beginning of the year again,” she said as she began passing back the quizzes. “And some of you need to remember that - if you want full credit on the final test - the answer to ‘What are the seven wonders of the ancient world’ is not ‘Castiel Novak’s Ass’ written seven times.”

She frowned when she got to Dean’s desk, dropping the paper on his desk as the rest of the class laughed.

Dean clicked his tongue and made a finger gun at Castiel with another wink.

“Really, Dean? Don’t be childish.” Castiel said, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “We all know that’s not true. I haven’t done any squats in at least a month.”

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Cold Showers And Icy Looks

… in which Emma and Killian have just battled a dragon, and Killian stumbles through some unintentional double-entendre as he tries to deal with the aftermath.

Based on a prompt by @justanotherwannabeclassic​ – how did Killian find out what “a quick and bracing shower” really means? Why, in the worst possible way, of course.


Killian pressed out curses between panting breaths as he helped David half-drag, half-carry Emma through the door of the loft. Snow White stood holding the door open, her eyes wide and worried. Emma slumped between the two men, her arms draped over their shoulders as they turned awkwardly to get through the narrow door.

“Almost there now, love,” Killian muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain blooming in his side every time Emma swayed into him. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it, but it turned out that dragonfire burns did wonders to dampen the mood.

Killian hoped vaguely that David never figured that out. One such experience was quite enough for a lifetime. Several lifetimes, in fact, if he was any judge—which, it so happened, he was.

“I’m okay,” Emma managed, the words coming out slurred and between gasps.

“All a matter of perspective, I’m sure,” Killian said wryly, even as David grunted, “You are not.”

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