uh i'm sorry

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand a little as he points out a shooting star that zips by. They’re lying on their backs on top of the impala in the middle of a desert strip.

“Alright, Cas, you win,” Dean says, sighing deeper into a sense of comfort and calm. “This isn’t too bad.It was a good idea.”

He can see Cas smiling in that way that makes his eyes crinkle as he pulls Dean closer, kissing him on the forehead.

Dean blushes.

“What is it with angels and stars, anyway? You’d think you’ve had enough of the skies for a lifetime. Hell knows I’d be happy if I never got on a plane again.”

Dean smirks. “Literally. Hell knows.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I knew what you meant, Dean.”

Another star pummels through the sky in a curved arc, appearing and disappearing in a flash.

“Really, though,” he continues. “Why?”

Cas sighs, looking as if he’s struggling to accept the fact that Dean is unwilling to let it go.

“It’s…” Cas starts, uncomfortably, “kind of personal.”

Slowly, Dean nods. Cas can have his secrets if he needs to.

“Ok. No biggie,” he shrugs while trying to avoid the curious itch in his brain.

But Cas looks torn, anyway. Even if Dean isn’t going to push it, suddenly it seems like he’s contemplating it.

“I want to tell you, but it’s going to sound kind of strange.”

Dean, cocking an eyebrow:

“Try me.”

Cas bites his lip.

“When I pulled you from hell…” Cas starts reluctantly, “I put you back together again.”

Dean waits for Cas to continue. He knows this, but somehow it’s still strange to hear it out loud. Strange to think about. He nods.

But, Cas has a half smile and his hand is getting slightly tighter in Dean’s as he talks.

“Well,” he says. “Humans are made of atoms and matter. Cells. Water. Dust.”

Dean squints, looking down at his own skin, feeling goosbumps prickling.

Cas sits up on the Car, glancing down at Dean as if he were a fond memory.

“You’re made of comets and stardust,” he says proudly with a smile. “I put bits of the stars inside you. So, the sky doesn’t really make me think of heaven. It makes me think of you.”

Dean sits up, too, squinting.

“Cas,” he says. “That’s… kind of a weird thought.” He smirks, “and a little bit sappy…”

Letting go of Dean’s hand, Cas turns away, looking frustrated.

Dean glances again at his arm, wondering suddenly about the patch of freckles near the elbow that reminds him of a constellation.

He smiles.

With his thumb, Dean reaches out, running it along Cas’s jaw, pulling his boyfriend’s annoyed gaze back to him.

“You make me think of heaven, too,” Dean finally whispers. “Not the real, nightmare one. But the one where it’s you and me under the stars and the cold metal of the impala underneath us. And I get to hold your hand for as long as I want.”

Cas squints. “You’re talking about right now,” he says.

“I’m talking about right now,” Dean confirms.

Cas’s smile is shy and perfect, and there’s another shooting star over the tip of his left shoulder.

“I can live with that,” Cas says.

Dean pulls Cas in for a deep, long kiss, his thumb still perched under Cas’s chin.

“Mia piccola stella,” Cas says with a smile when they pull apart.

Dean makes a face.

“My little star,” Cas says, proudly.

Dean smirks, and doesn’t even call his boyfriend a sap again as they tangle themselves back into each other’s arms to watch the meteor shower. Instead, Dean returns the forehead kiss grabbing Cas’s hand again..

“This was a good idea,” he says, and Cas squeezes his hand back.


A look back on just some of the many activities Yixing has participated in during his 25th year. May his 26th be filled with even more success, happiness, and love. Happy 26th birthday to our dearest Zhang Yixing! 🐑 👑🇨🇳 💜

A story from the line at McDonald's
  • Me: okay so my sexuality's a complicated deal so let's just call me queer as hell
  • Friend: nono I wanna know can't you explain it
  • Me: well ok mainly I am asexual which means I don't want to do the do nor do I long for it, so it has nothing to do with lack of confidence or anything like that, I simply don't find anyone sexually attractive
  • Friend: right right
  • Me: but I'm also bi romantic. The sexual and romantic attraction are different, and I still fall in love and want to have physical contact with my partner, I just don't need the hanky panky
  • Friend: right cause you have a girlfriend that's pansexual right
  • Me: exactly and as long as we're both happy with not doing the rumba naked, that's a valid relationship
  • Friend: I get it, I get it... I didn't know the entire sexual and romantic orientations were different
  • Me: yeah I know it was an eyeopener for me when I found ou-
  • Lady behind us in line: excuse me so sorry but I couldn't help but overhear but I didn't know half of what you just said and I was just wondering what that thing your girlfriend was is, pansexual?
  • Me: *awkward glance at friend* oh uh I'm not an expert or anything and uh ok so basically it's similar to being bisexual, but there's less value in what gender the one you're attracted to is, at least as I understood it. So a bisexual would be attracted to a person despite their gender, a pansexual wouldn't really care at all in a way uh I'm sorry I'm bad at explaining
  • Lady behind us in line: that's alright I can look it up myself later you gave me a general idea! So where did you find out these things, you're pretty young?
  • Me: well, Internet. Once you're a bit confused about what you might be you usually go looking for explanations...
  • Lady behind us in line: so uh in theory... It's fine if you don't know, I just want to check with you... Is there a thing called aROMANTIC? like you're asexual, is there a equivalent to the romantic orientation you mentioned?
  • Me: oh yeah, absolutely! You can be both asexual and aromantic, or aromantic and heterosexual, literally all combinations are possible!
  • Lady behind us in line: *smiles LIKE REALLY GODDAMNED GENUINELY* thank you so much, I did not know that. *fishes up phone from pocket* now if you excuse me, I'm going to call my mother and tell her I'm not crazy for never having been married or stayed with one guy for long despite being 50+ but still has three children! *steps out of line and walks off while dialing*
  • Friend: wow that was... Amazing
  • Me: see how happy she got? That's the power of right information.
  • And that's why I've been smiling since this happened.

My friends are my power!*

*between the hours of 6AM and 11PM
ft. @savaage-nymph

Part of what makes Black Sails so rich a show is the often unsettling complexity of its characters. Flint commits atrocities that sometimes cannot be justified by or have nothing to do with his revenge plot. Max and Eleanor both betray the confidence of some of their most intimate loved ones because of ambition. Vane is a violent mess but he is probably the only non-black character who understands the necessity of abolition most. Even Miranda and Madi have significant character flaws that complicate their pursuits as women of actions and aspirations of their own. This show, for all it’s flaws and it’s camp, is “novelistic” and character depth is an intrinsic part of that. But nah, I guess we can throw all this shit in the trash because we want to flatten the finale with a road roller and make an easy, flat, one-tone villain out of John Silver. He’s a confirmed trauma survivor and one of the most notable characters with disabilities in literature and I really question the impulse to simplify him so severely as to present him as the most simple, maniacal villain of the series- as if his love for Madi doesn’t register as valid, as if the repercussions of psychological trauma and a deeply disenfranchised identity in a deeply discriminate world isn’t fuel enough for reckless, haphazard but entirely human choices. (Man, it’s almost as if … the other protagonist is also a member of an oppressed group…. and has also committed costly and unjustifiable mistakes in the suffering wake of his oppression). Silver isn’t supposed to be an easy character. We’re supposed to be repulsed and disappointed by his maddened choices. The entire tragedy of the conclusion is embedded in the severe costs of Silver’s mistakes: Flint’s exile and the end of their relationship, the speeding up of the inevitable end of Flint’s war, and the irreparable damage done to Madi’s aims and their marriage. I just don’t understand the cognitive dissonance required to want to just ditch all the complexity and depth of the ending to make it into some easy act of villainy- part of the richness of that ending was the plethora of emotions we’re supposed to feel by the end of it! Anger, sorrow, relief, and sympathy all in competing measures! I just don’t understand how an audience can recognize that every significant and fantastic character of Black Sails is a conglomeration of sin and virtue, mistakes and noble aims, tragedy and cruelty and greatness, and then look at my son and be like: nah, fuck that unflinching monster.

me??? forget my own mom’s birthday??? never!! happy birthday, queen krul!!


Michael: Oh, man! There’s a lot of worlds in the OASIS, and there’s so many places we like to go–but this one in particular I like a lot! There’s this forest with a lot of pretty trees and a creek running through it, and a field of flowers! I really like going there and taking a nap with Jer, or just going there to talk. The setting of that particular planet makes it so it’s always autumn, and sunset. Pretty cool.


Mark likes to feel “Good Thing”🔥

heythereitsmo  asked:

Mark Tuan + #29 (don't you kill me Shan)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Mark Tuan

Prompt: “How is my wife more badass than me?”

Rating: PG

Word Count: 564

Originally posted by ceohan

Control (Epilogue)

“I just worry about him, you know?”

Mark speaks against your head, lips moving into your hair. He refuses to unwrap his arms from around your waist where you sit, cradled between his thighs. As you nod, you flip a page in your book. “True. But Mark, Jackson is a big boy. He’ll be fine on his own.”

Mark sighs. “I know. It’s just … he left all his crap here.”

Snorting, you finally look up. The apartment is a mess – has been for weeks now. Jackson left practically all of his things behind when he moved out. The vase with no flowers rests on your kitchen table, two of his rugs still lean against the wall. Jackson did it on purpose, winking and throwing his arms out as he declared well wishes for your new home.

“Well.” You stare at the stuff, dubious. “I suppose we could always throw it out.”

“And risk offending Jackson Wang?” Mark is scandalized. “I’ve seen him kick box, Y/N. We don’t stand a chance.”

“Hey.” Twisting in his arms, you mock-frown. “I could take him.”

“That’s true. You are pretty terrifying.” Mark struggles to hide his grin, shaking a fist at the ceiling. “How, God? How is my wife more badass than me?

Giggling, you swat him. “I think your job trumps mine any day. All you have to do is say, ‘Hi. I’m Mark Tuan. I fight fires and rescue damsels in distress.’ Bam. Badass.”

“Aha!” Mark grins. “At last, the truth. So you admit you were in distress?”

Wrinkling your nose, you sit back on your heels. Mark makes a small noise of protest at the removal of your warmth. “Distress? Me? Never.”

Mark pouts. “Maybe you weren’t distressed, but I am. Right now. Come back before I make you.”

Instead of answering, you back further away.

Mark watches, eyes glinting and he pushes forward. “I’m warning you, Y/N.”

Wriggling your eyebrows at him, you move further away. And further until – “Oh, shit!” You fall off the couch.

Mark’s concerned face appears over the edge, wide eyed. “You okay?” At the sight of you, hair askew and cheeks flushed, he bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

Mark’s eyes close and he rolls back on the sofa, continuing to laugh. 

Grabbing your book from the floor, you rise up on your knees to thwack him on the leg.

“Ow!” he yelps, still laughing as he grabs the book from your hands. “This is much too dangerous for you to have, Y/N. Paper cuts are a real and serious problem that kill one American a year.”

“You made that up.”

“Eight one percent of statistics are made up on the spot.”

“You made that up.”

Mark cracks a smile. “Come back here.”

Grumbling, you climb from the floor to settle on top of him. “Happy?”

“Mm.” Mark’s smile fades looking up at you. Softly, he pushes himself up from the cushions until you’re face to face. His left hand comes up quietly to brush a strand of hair behind one ear. “Have I told you how happy I am?”

Lacing your hands around his waist, you nod. “Once or twice.” Mark kisses the tip of your nose and you smile. “Have I told you how happy I am?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mm. Well, I’m very happy.” Your gaze moves to the ring on Mark’s left hand. “Mr. Tuan.”

“Mrs. Tuan.”

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