this show is hard to colour and i'm sorry if this looks ugly

anonymous asked:

Sabriel prompt.. Gabriel is ashamed of his wings (single pair) because they're broken and bloody and one day Him and Sam are just lazing around and Sam asks to see them... Fluffy wing kisses ensue

i’m incorporating touchstarved!gabe and you can’t stop me

“Hey, Gabe, can I see your wings?”

The question is completely out of the blue, but even so it turns Gabriel’s blood to shards of ice in his veins. He sneaks a sideways glance at Sam, trying to read his expression, but all that’s visible of the hunter is his legs: sprawled on the crappy motel bed, the upper half of Sam’s body is hidden from view by the wall partition. 

Gabriel tries to still the sudden shaking in his hands as he grabs the soda from the mini-fridge and shuts the door again. He fixes his eyes on an unwashed coffee mug balanced precariously near the edge of the kitchenette’s counter. 

“No can do, Sammo,” Gabriel replies, steeling himself and walking back to the bed. “Your senses are just this side of too weak to see ‘em,” he continues, tapping his temple with the tip of his index finger. “Sucks to be you, bucko." 

Before Gabriel’s even finished speaking, it’s obvious Sam can see through the flimsy excuse. He props himself up on his elbows, a small frown etching a crease into the skin between his brows. “I’ve seen Castiel’s wings.”

"Well, that’s ‘cause Cas is a seraph. Archangels like yours truly have wings the size of—I dunno, airplane wings, if I’m gonna guesstimate. Can’t make wings visible without making them solid, and it ain’t good etiquette to take out walls and occasionally people wherever I go, now is it, Sammy?”

The lie bounces off Sam without any impact. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Sam accuses, a hint of confused hurt creeping into his tone. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to show me for whatever reason—just. Just don’t lie about it, okay?” 

Gabriel pops open the tab of his can and takes a swig of soda. It’s sickeningly sweet, and makes Gabriel’s tongue hurt. He gulps down half the can in one go anyway. 

Okay?“ Sam prompts. 

Once Gabriel’s finished the can, he tosses it in the vague direction of the trash, not really caring if it hits its target or not. He still doesn’t look at Sam as he quietly says, “Samster, look. My wings—they ain’t exactly up to scratch, if you know what I mean. I haven’t groomed them since I left Heaven because I was scared I’d get bust, and they’ve pretty much been in the wars ‘cause I couldn’t afford to maneuver around things in case people started asking questions.” 

"So?" 

So,” Gabriel grits out, turning a glare on Sam, “they look like shit. And I don’t want you seeing them ‘cause I don’t want you looking at me different after you do. That simple enough for you, or will me drawing it in bright colours captioned with simple words explain it better?” With a snap of his fingers, a flip chart appears in the center of the room. 

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Baby Makes Four - Ch 4

Title: Baby Makes Four

Chapter number/one shot: 3/?

Author: chimaeracabra

Which Tom/character: AU Loki

Genre: Romance/Smut/Fluff

Fic summary: Loki and his wife expect a new child.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings: I keep trying to find gifs that I feel could go with this story. I realized it’s not possible. Gosh, this is long…

Previous

            Monday arrives and by lunch time, I find myself already extremely stressed out. The only upsides are that the new lens for my camera fits, and I’ll be picking Logan up from school around 5:00. Usually, it’s my best friend, Prudence, who picks him up, because I often stay until six to develop film in the dark room. I know Logan will be happy to see me; he doesn’t even know about the change of plans. I can’t help smiling thinking about my son as I make my way to the bathroom, but I pause when I hear Brittany gossiping with a secretary.

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anonymous asked:

I really, really hope this isn't coming out as rude or anything, but have you ever been called fat or hated your body type? I kinda have the same body type as you, but when I look at you you're just so godamm pretty. Like, really, really pretty, but when I look at myself just feel like a ugly, fat potato. Even some of my Family members thinks I should try to loose weight but I don't like working out because I'm afraid of people looking at me and

(cont) even when I try to eat right I still not losing weight, I really don’t know if I’m just fat or if my body type is just big. Sorry if it sounds like I’m just rambeling but do you ever feel like that or do you maybe have any tips to feel better about one’s body type? Again, I hope this isn’t coming out as rude or anything ;-; I think you’re really amazing and pretty

It’s not rude at all. Just let me tell you: You are beautiful!!
I had a hard time believing I was beautiful. I still struggle with it sometimes when I feel down, and when you’re low like that it’s hard to think positive.
But keep in mind fat =/= ugly. Fat = beautiful. Everything you are = beautiful, even though society, and unfortunately oneself sometimes, makes you think you’re not.

This is me, just this moment:

I’m unshowered for about a day and I’m in my comfy tanktop and my even comfier fluffy shorts and I would never have posted this sort of image last year because I’d be too scared of what others would think. I’d be too scared to show off my legs or my arms.

Last year. Since then, I’ve grown (on the outside as well haha my body likes to put on weight as well as confidence) but I’m cool. It’s my body and I focus on the things there I really like. Like my killer calves. (When I did judo even the black belt teacher couldn’t pry my legs open!) Or how I look like a forest troll. Or how I’m awesome at hugging people because I’M SO SOFT come touch my arms if you don’t believe me. Inside I’m also muscly from all training that doesn’t show because my body is like that. Like you, I’ve probably always been.

That’s a little about myself, so you know how I think. And how I wish everyone would think.

The only two I can recall who have called out on my weight is a random drunk man and my mum, who wishes me to be thinner. She keept telling me it’s for the sake of my health and I suppose I can believe her a little. But it’s really tough when it comes from someone as close as a parent. She’s a work-out freak tho, and I’m obviously not, (except dancing, dancing is awesome!) so I’m like “sure mum you go on with that and I’ll just do my thing.”

So, onto what you can do to feel better:
- DO SOMETHING CRAZY WITH YOUR HAIR. I love doing stuff with my hair and I try to find different cool colours. Maybe it’s got nothing on the whole body issue but I sure feel better when my hair is big and bright blue.

- Tell yourself in the mirror that you’re pretty/beautiful, even though you feel that day that you aren’t. I was a huuuuuuge sceptic of the bullshitting theory, aka “tell yourself something until you belive it” but it actually gets a little better.

- Surround yourself with body positive friends/people. My best friend in the whole world (apart from my girlfriend) is Louise and I think since I met her I’ve gotten so much better accepting myself. She sees beauty in every person. With her I can say “damn I’m fine in these pants” and even though I maybe feel I’m maybe not so fine she’d say “hella”. I know she’d never call me anything else than beautiful when being serious.
So surround yourself with people like Louise.

- Let’s be real, just trying to think will do lots but doing stuff will do even more!
I’ve started a diet, where I at least keep away from soda drinks, (sparkling water is a super neat replacement!) and two days a week I eat low calorie foods.
It helps. (Not to mention it actually works if you wanna lose some weight! Check out the 2:5 method.) I feel more confident about myself. I do something and it feels good. And it’s that good feeling that helps.

Admit to yourself that yeah, you are bigger. But nothing’s bad about it.

If you’re healthy and on the larger side, like me, don’t worry. Rock your body. Beautiful being.
Peace.

anonymous asked:

Oml I have to get my wisdom teeth out tomorrow and I'm so nervous!!! Which inspired me to ask, would a deanxreader where the reader has something like that done be possible?

Hey, both Jena and I send our love to you and hope that your surgery and recovery goes really well. Enjoy your chipmunk cheeks, you can be just like Dean when he is eating. If you get really drugged up and start saying funny stuff please please please record it! Sorry, I have never had mine taken out so I can’t understand the situation, BUT Jena has had hers taken out and assures me it isn’t fun. Thus as the queen of fluff I want to give you comfort and Jena is giving me insight as to what it’s like so you are getting a story written by the both of us! 

We LOVE you! xx Heather and Jena

- The Tooth Fairy -

You sat in the waiting room, your leg tapping upon the ground nervously. You hated dentist rooms, the way they smelt, the hard waiting room chairs, everything just put your teeth on edge. Everything was too white and it felt like the inside of a science laboratory and everyone was the test subject. Your eyes locked on the clock, it had only been 10 minutes since they took Dean in. Of all things to land him in here you never thought it would be wisdom teeth. It was a surprise he even had them, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would have any type of wisdom; or so the joke between Sam and you stated. But when push came to shove there you were sitting in the waiting roo, waiting patiently for his surgery to be over for you to take him home and take care of him.

An hour later you no longer had nails because your nerves got the better of you, it seemed like it had been too long. A nurse came out calling your name, “Dean’s out now and awake.” Nodding you followed her to an open room where there were about ten people all sitting, their eyes all glassy not focusing on anything. Then your eyes found Dean and as soon as he saw you he practically jumped out of the seat.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Dean attempted to shout around the gauze in his mouth. He looked terrible, his cheeks were swollen that his nickname of Squirrel really made sense, his eyes were clearly showing the effect of the drugs and his arms were falling around like noodles. Walking over to him the moment you were within reaching distance he grabbed your hand pulling you down to him. He continued to pull you closer to him until your ear was at his mouth. “Do you have all the weapons?” He whispered with such a tone of questioning you almost laughed. Moving slightly away you looked at him to see if he was being serious. His expectant gaze told you he was being dead serious.

“WHAT!?” You asked, absolutely shocked with Dean’s request.

“Shhhhh,” He put his finger to his lip, his other hand yanking you closer again. “Do you have all the weapons?” He asked conspiracy colouring his tone.

“They are in Baby, where they always are.” You responded trying to calm him.

“Okay,” Dean nodding, attempting to put his swollen lip into his mouth to help him think. You could almost see the lightbulb flash on in his mind. “Go and get them.” He stated, then he paused again. “Go and get them ALL!” He answered, this goofy smile trying to make it’s way onto his lips.

“Why?” You asked again trying to soothe his racing mind.

“Can’t you see it?! Fucking FAIRIES EVERYWHERE!!!” His eyes danced around the room, following imaginary flying creatures throughout the room. “And it gets worse!”

“How?” You asked, knowing it was easier to play along with the anaesthetic induced craze he was in.

“They are tooth fairies!”

“They are what?!”

“TOOTH FAIRIES!! Can’t you see, they stole everybody’s teeth!”

“Dean, no, there aren’t any tooth fairies.”

“YES there are!” He replied accusation clear in his voice. He tilted his head and assessed me, “You aren’t a fairy are you?”

“No, Dean, it’s me, you’re best friend.”

“No, y/n is my best friend, not you, you’re a tooth fairy.”

“Dean, it’s me y/n. I promise,”

“Okay, tell me something only Dean and Y/N would know.”

“Did you just talk in third person?”

“Shut up and answer the question tooth fairy.” He responded, his finger pointing towards you as his eyes looked down his nose at you.

“When you can’t sleep at night I come into your room and sing you ‘Hey Jude’.”

“Y/n, is that really you?”

“Yes you silly idiot.”

“So can you see the fairies?” He asked, hope filling his voice. You looked at him with compassion, nodding his face brightened with the closest thing to a smile he could manage. His eyes than began searching the room again until they landed on his hand, he squinted and focused like a little child trying to colour within the lines and he slapped his hand so hard it made you feel pain. He looked at you as tears started forming in his eyes. You had seen Dean cry before, he had manly tears but this, BUT THIS was something new. Dean’s eyes began brimming over with tears, his lip began to quiver and just like a baby who stubbed his toe Dean began wailing. Ugly wailing, the whole unable to breath, hiccupping, almost vomiting, dribble everywhere and just snot running down his chin.

“Dean, Dean, calm down, it’s okay.”

“BUT IT HURT!” He wailed through tears, his finger pointing at his hand. 

“I know it hurt Dean.”

“It can never get better.” He looked so forlorn and upset before another light bulb went off in his brain. “Can you kiss it better?”

“Dean, no, l am not going to kiss you.”

“Please, my hand hurts so much.” He begged, you wished you had your camera rolling because this would have been blackmail for the rest of your existence. Leaning down you took his hand in yours and placed a kiss on the place he hit.

“All better now?” You asked hoping to have comforted him. He nodded more enthusiastically than he jaw could manage and again he felt more pain than he poor little conscious could manage.

“Good God, do not tell me you now want me to kiss your jaw better.”

“Pretty please.” He asked, tears beginning to run down his cheek again. Shaking your head you moved in and pressed your lips to his jaw, he then moved his finger up to his cheek. “It hurts there too.” You moved your lips up and kissed his cheek. He then moved his finger to his lips, his eyes expectant, “Here too.” Shaking your head you pressed your lips to his, you couldn’t deny the thump in your heart as it sped up. Secretly you had wished for this moment for years but never expected it. He tried to kiss back but he pulled at his stitches and a tiny bit of blood threaten to trickle out.

“Okay cowboy, if you remember this in a few days we could continue this later.” You hoped he would remember, but he probably wouldn’t. You and Dean were best friends, never anything more as much as you wished it could be you kept it all platonic. The nurse returned to the two of you, breaking you from your thoughts. She shined a pen light in his mouth and was satisfied that everything was alright for him to go home.

“He should be fine, the doctor recommends really soft food.”

“Ice cream and jelly?!” Dean asked his eyes lighting up like a kid let loose in a candy store.

“Yep, like ice cream and jelly.” The nurse confirmed, causing Dean to practically jump off his seat. Helping him up off the chair you lead him out of the dental surgery towards the impala. As soon as he saw Baby he let go of your hand and ran straight for her and flung himself at the hood of the car and tried the best to hug the bonnet of the car. “Oh Baby I missed you, you wouldn’t believe the horrid things they did to me! But it’s all okay now because you’re here and I love you!” He whispered to the car, his breath fogging up her detailing. 

“Come on Romeo, time to get you home. You still want that ice cream and jelly yeah?” You asked pulling him away from his new romance with the car, his face depicted how torn he was between his food or spending time with his beloved car. Placing the keys in the ignition Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“My car. I get to drive.”

“Dean at the moment the only driving you are doing is the fact you are driving me crazy.” You responded, a disciplining tone in your voice. He humfed, sulking to himself as he sunk into the seat beside me. It didn’t take long though into the drive until Dean’s head was out the window, his eyes seemingly seeing forests for the first time. Unfortunately it seemed his brain was directly attached to his mouth and he began chanting. “Tree, tree, tree, tree, tree.” At first it was funny, but after you had been driving the twenty minutes back to the bunker you swore if you heard the word tree again you were going to punch someone. 

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