So the first set of these is technically not complete yet because Coran, but, headcanons I have developed in the process of writing these:
1. When Shiro was a cadet at the Garrison there was a very memorable incident involving a stomach bug, dubious amounts of caffeine and passing out in front of the entire class. He was filmed. It went viral. It’s long since died down but a certain part of Shiro lives in fear of the idea that someday the team is going to find out about that one time he became a meme.
As a bonus: Lance is actually familiar with the “must be finals week” meme (it goes around local sources on rare occasions, usually, well, around finals week) but doesn’t know that guy is Shiro.
Lance is, by a long margin, the best swimmer on the team. Guy’s terrifying. You’d think mister daunting physical specimen Shiro would give him a run for his money- and even down an arm and dragging a heavy prosthetic he does pretty good- but Lance has five years of holding down a summer job as a lifeguard, he could swim across a lake and back in a day for kicks.
If asked he’ll totally insist that he took the job to spend time around cute girls in swimsuits but if you don’t think every second of that CPR and first aid training has stuck with him or that he doesn’t take that dead serious, you’re wrong.
(On a related topic, he wanted to be a professional mermaid when he was a kid. Every costume-related thing ever in his childhood, he would dress as a mermaid. without fail.)
3. Keith actually does have a noticeable drawl but only on very certain words and phrases and it comes and goes. It’s virtually never there and attempts to point it out don’t work because Keith is oblivious he’s actually doing anything.
(”If y’all’d’ve listened to me in the first place-” “‘y’all’d’ve?’” “I said if you had listened to me in the first place”)
4. Pidge is actually pretty nice when it comes to video games, she’ll cut you some slack if you’re having a hard time even though she’ll also joke about it. Matt Holt, though. In this single area of his life Matt Holt takes no prisoners. He’ll talk about it like it’s all in good fun and there is nothing competitive here as he selects Rainbow Road for the third time.
5. If you’re Hunk’s friend, he fully intends to avenge you if anything happens. Sometimes, he will mention this. Most of the team takes this as a joke. Lance knows better.
6. Nobody is really surprised by the revelation that Allura is shredded and Altean clothing tends to be very modest. They are, however, generally surprised by the revelation that Coran is shredded.
7. Allura can sing. I don’t mean this as cute rom-com “oh, wow, you have a pretty voice” I mean, if you’ve ever seen that vine with “I don’t trust this they’re probably sirens”- that’s Allura. First time someone hears it, it’s Lance, he doesn’t see her, and he’s concerned the Castle is haunted again. It doesn’t help that certain rooms have absolutely great acoustics and Allura is very aware of this.
Sometimes the mice try to sing accompaniment which doesn’t tend to go that well, not because the mice are bad, but because it’s too cute for Allura to deal with. Years of choral training did not prepare her for tiny precious babies with chirpy little voices.
The elder Winchester stayed down, his eyes shut tight from the brutal dark of his bedroom. The lights were off, the only illumination coming in from the moon in little beams of light that managed to slip in through the partings in the drapes, drawing squiggles of tree branches on the carpeted floor.
He lay still, waiting, hoping, that she would think he was asleep and leave, but she didn’t. He could feel that she was still at the door—the light from the hallway was pouring into the room in one thin passage as wide as the doorframe. Y/N’s shadow cut into it in the middle. She tried again.
“Dean?” she said in a timid tone that sent spears through the elder hunter’s heart. Jesus, he thought, she was afraid of him. He could hear it in her voice—the tremble, the quaver. She spoke in a raspy tone that sounded like she’d been crying and had just stopped midway to come check up on him. And now that Dean mulled it over, he realized that that was probably exactly what had happened.
She had probably heard him all the way from her bedroom. Then, she had probably gotten out of bed, to check on him, and now she was probably not going to leave until he spoke to her.
Dean felt tense all over, his throat tight, barely managing to get the words out.
“Yeah.” He said hoarsely. He winced—his voice was far from normal, scratchy and pained.
He waited patiently for Y/N to say anything. After a long pause, she finally did.
“You’re awake?” she asked. The edge was still present in her voice.
Dean nodded. “I am now.”
He pushed himself up to sit, groaning as he did so. Fully upright, he then turned his head to the door where she stood, the light from the hallways outlining her as nothing but a silhouette. Dean realized there was no point in searching for comfort in her gaze—he couldn’t even find it. It was too dark.
Both parties waited for the other to speak up, the tension only growing thicker and thicker, causing the elder Winchester to wish he hadn’t even gotten up. Regret instantly flooded him. He parted his lips to speak, to say something that would ward her off, but she cut him off.
“C-can I come in?” she asked, voice wavering. The elder Winchester winced at this. God, she was so scared.
Dean had to force the words out of his mouth. “Y-yeah. Sure.” He said, turning so that his entire body was facing her. He saw her nod, then slowly make her way into the room. He couldn’t say he didn’t notice the way she sauntered towards him; cautious, calculated footsteps. The closer she got, the faster Dean’s heart began to beat, thumping against his ribcage. He could feel his palms begin to sweat in anxiety—what if he hurt her?
Her entire body was stiff as she came over and then sat down. The bed dipped at the foreign mass.
Dean looked up.
Y/N’s eyes never met his, instead staying fixed to the floor as she twiddled with her thumbs in her lap. Discomfort radiated off her like steam from a kettle, and this made Dean slightly queasy. For he knew it was because of him; because of what he was becoming.
For the past few nights his sleep had been ridden with carnal and frightening nightmares that shook him awake, usually in a fit of tears. They’d been happening on and off and on and off for the past two weeks, and he’d managed to hide them. No one in the house knew—Sam was too busy dealing with the mess within his own head, and Cas was never home anymore, heaven’s operations occupying his mind instead.
Well, Dean didn’t want to bother her with his inhibitions. She had enough of her own to deal with.
No-one knew. It had been his dirty little secret, shuttered and hidden away from the world. But that was until a few nights back when Y/N, wandering the halls at unholy hours, stumbled upon his room, and found the elder Winchester writhing and stirring in his sleep, brow draped in sweat. He had had his eyes clamped shut, the sheets sodden with his perspiration, as he grunted and gasped. Terrible images too cumbersome for him to swallow were flooding his mind, painting blood on the insides of his head. Everything was red. When Dean gasped awake all of a sudden, sitting up straight in a pool of his sweat, his eyes had immediately landed on Y/N standing behind the crack in the door.
She had seen him.
And then as fast as she came, she quickly dispersed, a mere shadow in the night that had the elder Winchester questioning whether he had been dreaming it up. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Y/N had paid Dean visits in his dreams numerous times—saving him. Being his lifeguard that brought him back to reality.
He hadn’t spoken to her about it until breakfast this morning when he’d noticed how antsy she’d been acting, the elder Winchester having asked her for a glass of juice and her flooding his glass past the brink until it started leaking onto his hands. She hadn’t even noticed until she saw the orange pool of mango juice on the floor upon Sam’s regard. She’d then immediately cursed herself, placed the pitcher down, and gone grab a cloth, all the while ignoring the elder Winchester’s gaze.
But Dean had noticed.
He’d noticed the tremble in her voice when she spoke to him, the way her eyes darted from left to right whenever he looked straight into them, or even just the way she kept her distance when they walked together. Even now, the elder Winchester couldn’t deny the hurt he felt in his heart when he noticed the three foot gap she had left between them when she sat down.
But still, she was here. Right here, right now, putting in an effort to coax Dean out of his shell and tell her what it was that was bothering him. That at least made a difference—right?
“You should be sleeping.” She said quietly, bringing the elder Winchester whirling out of his head.
He shifted his gaze from the floor to her. The light from the hallway was still coursing into the room, blaring bright from behind Y/N’s shadowed form. Dean had to squint to keep it from searing his retinas, but didn’t dare look away from her.
“Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “I just…I couldn’t get any sleep. I’ve been trying for the past ten minutes or so but…” The green-eyed hunter gestured in the air with his hands. “Nothing.”
Y/N nodded, almost mechanically.
There was a beat of silence. Dean was still watching her, trying to make out any feature of her face, trying to grip onto the reality that she was here and not just another part of his dream, but the lack of light in his room kept him from that. Y/N’s face was pitch black, only the outline of jaw and hair falling down her shoulders any indication that it was her. A moment later she spoke.
“I know what you mean.” She stated with a sigh as she shifted further up the bed, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Dean heard the sheets move with her. Y/n’s head bobbed up and down as she spoke. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been trying to catch some sleep myself but…but there’s something keeping me from it. Some…unrest, I guess I could call it?”
“Join the club.” He jerked his chin at her, causing her to look down at herself, wiggling her toes as if testing the air itself. Noticing this, his brow furrowed.“Are you cold? You’re practically shaking.”
She shrugged. “I feel pretty fine.” Turning her head to Dean, she asked, “Are you?”
“Not entirely, but yeah.” He moved his shoulders, “Yeah, a little.”
“Big bad hunter can’t handle a little cold?” The outlines of her cheeks expanded as she smiled.
“Is that why you can’t sleep?” She asked suddenly.
Then Dean quieted.
A somber silence hang between them, ominous and tense. Reluctantly, he spoke.
“No,” all humor his voice once held a few seconds ago dispersed. “…it….it isn’t.”
Y/n pressed on. “So…?”
The elder Winchester’s ears then perked up at the change of tone. He slowly turned to Y/N, his gaze adamant on her masked face. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could still feel it—her sharp gaze piercing though him.
“So what?” he asked, voice sharp, but it was as though Y/N didn’t hear, or frankly care, about his brashness.
“So, if not the cold, what’s been keeping you awake?” She asked. And he could feel it hovering over them like an anvil on a thin string, threatening to tear. There was no point hiding it. He needed to come clean.
A sigh eluded him as he lamented on his thoughts, on what to say. What could be said? What could explain and justify the oddity that was his behavior in the past few days? Nothing. He grasped for words, but it was like trying to catch handfuls of the wind. Useless.
Another sigh. Another shameful bow of the head.
And then a hand on his shoulder.
Tender. Hesitant. Slowly caressing his arm through the fabric of his shirt. Dean turned to look and found Y/N’s eyes, practically glimmering in the darkness, set on his very own.
“Dean…”She whispered, voice hoarse, making the elder Winchester’s heart wrench. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Please…please tell me what’s wrong.” She pleaded.
Dean’s chest constricted as he looked away, guilt marring his features. “Y/N…”
“Stop trying to be such a tough guy, will you? I’m trying to help you.”
He wordlessly shut his eyes as Y/N’s hand floated from his shoulder, tucking away at her side. And his heart tangled, and his throat dried, and he felt his resolve crumble before her because it was Y/N and Y/N was good.
The only good in his life.
A guiding light in the pitch black world. He loved her. Wanted her. He wanted to be there for and with her, to plunge thick roots of affection into rich black soil, and he wanted to let vines of trust twine around her, and he wanted her to love him back.
And so, after a moment of hesitation, biting his lip and scraping his callouses and breathing, Dean spoke.
Y/N waited patiently, hands folded in her lap. The room was still dark. He was still wrought with nerves, as he let out a laden sigh, and then….
“I’ve been having nightmares.” He announced. “About you, about Sam and Cas and all of you…dying.” Dean’s eyes shut, and he tried to steady his breathing.
Y/N pressed his shoulder firmly, urging him on with a sad smile.
He looked at her, then sighed. “I…I’ve been trying to ignore them. Hide them, but…”
“It’s hard?” Y/N supplemented.
The elder Winchester nodded. “Yeah.”
Just like that. Like it was so easy. Like it hadn’t been a weight on his heart soul for eons, and as though vocalizing it didn’t send a surge of weakness through him. Waiting for her to say something, the elder Winchester finally lifted his gaze to the girl beside him, finding her still there.
Still with him.
They sat, quiet. Wordless. For a moment the world had seemed to stop….but then Y/N reached out, and she took Dean’s hand, and—with trembling and cold hands—she placed it against her warm cheek.
And he disintegrated.
“It’s okay…”She cooed, tone soothing and mellifluous. It was sweet, calming. Like the pitter patter of rain against the roof of a car.
The elder Winchester remained stagnant, frozen by her actions. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? What was he supposed to say?
Nothing, Dean realized after a while.
This moment was sacred. Untouchable. Y/N was saying something, something mollifying and holy, something gentle and good just like her, but Dean was too busy focusing on the rapid hammering in his chest to focus on her. Eventually, she stopped talking and looked up at him, with expectant eyes.
The elder Winchester snapped out of his trance, averting his gaze to Y/N’s. Smiling. She was smiling at him, gentle and re-assuring, and he found himself wondering how somebody could bear so much grief and despondence in their lives, and stay so intact?
How she could witness Dean’s walls crumble like ruins, how she could have her very own demons stirring in her chest, and yet she could be so…there?
Simpering still, Y/N squeezed his hand.
“Listen to me.” She said. “You are going to be okay, okay? Everything is going to be fine—great. Because I’m not letting go of you. I’m not going to let you go through this—this….mess, on your own. I’m going to be there. Always.”
Another jolt of limerence.
Dean watched Y/N’s eyes filling with tears. A contrasting image with the smile on her lips, but he knew not to say anything. Only feel. Only understand.
She would be there for him, and that was enough.
He nodded in response, and Y/N let out a small chuckle. “Good.” She smiled as her hand went up to wipe her eyes. She had been crying, Dean just realized as her hand dropped back onto her lap.
He felt ultra-violet as they sat there, in comforting silence. A moment passed until Dean finally gathered the courage to fit his other hand in Y/N’s, pressing his palm flat against hes. She said nothing, merely accepting wordlessly when he did it. He was grateful. The last thing he needed her to do right now was speak, say something that would push him further down the rabbit hole than he already was.
He was too far gone, anyway.
Too in love. Yes, he’d admit it—he would shout it in the halls of an empty church, whisper it in the confines of his room alone at night, whenever he needed the re-assurance.
He loved her.
The space between his fingers felt static, electric, as Y/N kneaded their hands together and eventually started to hum. As she did this, she swayed side to side subtly, entranced.
Opposite her, Dean listened carefully, religiously, trying to deciphering the song. A familiar melody. He’d heard it before, he realized, and tried to remember when.
“I know that song.” He finally spoke.
Y/N’s eyes must have opened, as she stilled. The flash of pearly white teeth gave away her smile. “Magic.” She said. “By Coldplay. I’ve played it for you before, tons of times in the car.”
“It’s a great song.”
“Do you want me to play it for you now? I have it on my phone.” Y/N offered, rubbing her fingers against the back of Dean’s palm. He thought about it, but then tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Why don’t you sing it for me?” He asked, watching as, taken aback, Y/n froze, then scoffed as though it was too incredulous of a proposal.
“Me?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “Sing?”
“I’ve heard you sing before. You’re not half bad. “ He had. Numerous times, by accident—when she was in the shower, when she was cooking breakfast. Y/N sang a lot more than she thought she did, and every time he’d stumbled upon her in a serenade, the elder Winchester would listen closely and revel.
He tugged on her hands, smiling softly. “Come on, Y/N.”
“No…” Y/N blushed as she dipped her chin into her neck shyly, her hair forming a curtain around her face. It was too dark to see, but Dean could just tell the hade of pink that the tips of her ears were, and it made him chuckle.
“Fine…”He said after a while. “I’ll start, and then you finish off. How does that sound?”
Her head immediately lifted. “What?”
But the elder Winchester said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hands, pulled them closer in, and began to sing.
The first two or through lines flowed easily out of his mouth until they eventually dissolved into a simple hum. He didn’t know the words. True, Y/n had played the song before, but memorizing lyrics had never been something that he was good at. So, Dean just mumbled.
When he heard the sound of amused giggles, he felt a smile stretch onto his face. He went on some more. Then Y/N joined him.
She actually sang. Quietly, shyly, like the words were mechanically being drawn out of her and with her head bowed slightly. But still—she was singing.
And Dean, feeling his heart stutter in his chest, tried his best not to kiss her as she did.
Eventually, his voice melted away, and it was only the soft soprano of the young girl before him filling the room. Outside, the cricket’s joined in with their midnight symphony. Wind howled wildly as an undertone. Y/N’s shoulders loosened as she began to sing with more ease, the former tension in her joints dissolved.
She kept leaning forward. Closer and closer, like there was a magnetic field drawing her in as she sang. She was inches away, still singing, repeating herself. The hammering in Dean’s chest never ceased. Eyes half-lidded, Y/N kept on singing and leaning in.
He moved closer in, like she was a siren leading him into the waters with her melodic voice. He could feel her breath fan his face. Inches apart. Still singing. Still good.
Their foreheads met, and they stayed like that.
Y/N’s voice slowed to a stop as she breathed in heavily, and fluttered her eyes open. Their gazes locked.
Dean felt his throat constrict, gulping thickly, feeling the heat spread through his body like wild fire. “Go on.” He urged, as she watched him wordlessly.
His eyelids felt like bags of sand, heavy, desperate to shut, but he refrained. He couldn’t, not now; not when they were this close, this synchronized. Not when his chest felt like it held a thousand caged doves wildly batting their wings against his ribs; not when Y/N’s eyes were darting down to his lips, and then back up at his eyes.
She lifted his hand, placed it against her cheek, and the elder Winchester gulped. Warm, smooth. He rubbed his thumb against the apple fo her cheek as Y/N’s hand slipped away, leaving only his. His stomach was in knots, much like his heart, and he felt intoxicated. Drunk. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her.
Y/N said something; his name, he soon realized, and the fluttered her eyes shut, tipping her head back. Still caressing her cheek, Dean couldn’t hold it in anymore.
He dipped his head, and captured her lisp in a kiss.
At the contact of Y/N’s mouth on his, the elder Winchester felt his entire being float so high up, like it was leaving his body. He’d let it. He didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N, in his arms.
He nipped and licked at her bottom lip, his hand carding through her hair as her hand left his and fisted his shirt. Dean felt a jolt of pleasure surge through him. He kissed her more. Harder. Like she was filling his lungs with air rather than stealing it away. Why had he waited so long to do this? Why had he avoided it, tiptoed around it? Feeling her lips graze against his, Dean felt stupid for not doing this earlier.
When they broke apart, he glanced down at her with half-lidded eyes, mouth still parted. She was gasping, her chest rising and falling. “Y/N….”The elder Winchester managed, the smell of peaches of and honey potent around him. “…I…I love you…”
The young girl blinked up at him, doe-eyed, before a smile cracked through her face. A giddy laugh escaped her, and she threw her arms around his neck.
Dean, taken aback caught her, feeling her form pressed against his. He was sure, with the proximity between them zero to none, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel hers.
Letting his eyes shut, he cradled Y/N in his arms as she smiled and spoke. “I love you, too.”
~*~*~ It’s been a while since I posted any Supernatural writings, so here..((ps. sorry for the shit ending I tried :))) ))
If you enjoyed this, show some love and like, reblog, or follow to keep updated when I post something new. I write for numerous fandoms, predominantly SPN and DC/Marvel, so if you’re a fan, then you’re in luck ;))))
By far the greatest casualty from the Vine shut down was the “I wouldn’t dare” vine. It wasn’t funny on its own. It was only funny in the context of text posts so it’s never included in any vine compilation videos, and trust me when I say that vine is LOST. I’ve spent hours looking for it. rip in peace
Okay so I had an ask about the Ogham runes a little bit back, and said I’d have to consult with my mother, who uses them.
I have, and am reporting back. This is a basic guide. Each rune, as with the Futhark, has deeper meanings as well.
1; Beith-the birch. Meaning; a fresh start, fertility. The Goddess. Magical power and transformation. Women’s power. A very feminine rune.
2; Luis-the rowan. Meaning; a warning. Deceit. Evil masked as good. Protection, particularly for children and animals.
3; Fern-the Alder. Meaning; awareness of the self. Celebration of the unique abilities of individuals. Realization of talents. Battle.
4; Sail-the willow. Meaning; a period of learning. Wisdom, and the power that comes with it. Enlightenment. The moon, and all the powers associated with that.
5; Nion-the ash. Meaning; the interconnection of all living things, and of this world to the ones that lie beyond it. Shamanic journeys.
This one was interesting to me in particular because Yggdrasil is an ash tree, and of course binds all the worlds, with its roots in the underworld and it’s highest branches reaching to Asgard.
6; Huath-the hawthorn. Meaning; mental and physical health. Also interesting because the hawthorn is a powerful healing herb, one that’s being researched clinically for its ability to treat congestive heart failure.
7; Duir-the oak. Meaning; learning through action or doing. Action. Strength. Wisdom. Protection. Power, pure and unadulterated.
Oak is regarded as a tree of protection and strength in nearly every culture that has oaks nearby.
8; Tinne-holly. Meaning; Overcoming challenges through effort. Protection from evil. Willpower.
9; Coll-hazel. Meaning; inspiring others through your own deeds. Leadership. Respect gained through actions. Learned knowledge.
10; Quert-apple. Meaning; fertility. Trust. Abundance. Joy. Vitality and health. A choice. The crossroads.
11; Muin-vine. Meaning; trust in your own intuition. Prophetic abilities. A reminder to take some time to unwind and relax.
12; Gort-ivy. Meaning; the bonds of family and friends. The support of those around you. A reminder to allow yourself to lean on others when necessary. Aid.
13; Ngeadal-reed. Meaning; cleansing. Sweeping away the bad and ushering in fresh and new.
14; Straif-blackthorn. Meaning; the unexpected. Upset plans, sudden change. Turmoil. Chaos. The unpredictability and power of nature. Challenges unexpected. Secrets kept close. Hidden knowledge.
15; Ruis-elder. Meaning; moving from the old to the new. Renewal. Banishment of the past. Death and regeneration. Protection. The wood of witches and the Fey.
16; Alim-the elm. Meaning; empathy. Common sense. Creativity.
17; Furze-gorse. Meaning; industriousness, intelligence, passion (for anything, be it a lover or a hobby). Sex, fertility, and protection.
18. Ura-there seems to be some disagreement on whether this is Mistletoe or Heather, but Mom says she favors Mistletoe, considering how sacred the plant was/is. Meaning; Connections to the spirit world. Shamanic visions. Spiritual growth. Sexual passion.
19; Eadha-poplar. Meaning; bravery. Triumph over fears. Willpower. War.
20; Idho-yew. Meaning; Transformation. Rebirth. Endings, but those that come with a new beginning. Initiation. Resilience and longevity.
There are five more included in some systems, but those are apparently a later 4th century addition, much like the blank rune is a far later addition to the Futhark. Much in the same way I do not use the blank rune, Mom does not use the newer Ogham runes.