way through hell

“I miss the handprint,” Cas blurts out one night. Dean watches as his face falls, like he instantly regrets saying it. Those bright blue eyes dart around nervously, like he wishes he still had the power to poof out of the bunker and just disappear.

“What, the handprint you left on my arm?” Dean asks, confused.

Cas nods, looking once again like he’s going against his better judgment, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He clears it and tries not to let his reaction show.

“Why would you miss that?” Dean asks.

Dean knows why he misses it. He misses the comfort it used to give him, the solace of knowing that someone saved him, that there was someone who would always save him, even if it meant literally fighting his way through Hell. And as long as he never discusses it with Cas, he can even pretend that it was a sign that Cas truly cares, and not just because it was his assigned duty once upon a time.

But why would Cas miss it?

“I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head as he considers his words. “It used to make me feel connected to you. Like you were m-” He closes his mouth abruptly. “Never mind. It isn’t important.”

Dean swallows hard, and with a heart pounding so loudly in his ears he can barely hear his own voice, he answers. “Like I was what, Cas? Like I was yours?”

Cas stares with wide eyes as he nods.

Dean steps forward, hands shaking a little, until their noses are almost touching.
“I am, Cas. Handprint or not, I’ve been yours.”

Cas exhales then like he’s been holding it in for a long time, and lets his hand run up Dean’s arm as he leans in, not stopping until his fingers settle in the place they belong.


I hope their relationship progresses to big sis and lil bro always making fun of each other vibe

“Cas.” Dean’s voice is low and dangerous, and Cas is actually trembling, staring at the ground. He’s faced armies of angels and fought his way through Hell, but nothing has ever been as terrifying as the growl in Dean’s throat at this moment. “What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do.”

Cas keeps his head bowed apologetically. “I wanted to do something nice for you.” He braves looking up slightly, sees Dean’s shaking hands, and feels that twist in his gut again.

“So you. You… What did you do?”

“I took the Impala to a car wash.”

“And you sent it through the wash. Without rolling up the windows. My car, and everything in it. Is soaked.”

Cas wonders how long Dean is going to speak in these halting, broken sentences. “I’m sorry,” he pleads. “It was an honest mistake. I truly thought I was doing something you would appreciate.”

Dean’s pinching the bridge of his nose now, silently taking deep breaths, shoulders still tense. Cas wants to reach out and rub that stress away, but he’s no longer sure he’s allowed.

And then Dean finally looks up, green eyes burning, chest heaving.

Minutes later, Cas is on his stomach in the backseat, naked, pushing his hard and aching cock into wet leather as Dean fucks into him. The whole car is damp, smelling of industrial soap, but Cas barely notices the mess he’s made.

All he’s noticing is the stretch and burn of Dean inside him. The only dampness he feels is Dean’s sweat dripping onto his back.

Dean grunts and growls into his ear about punishing him, about teaching Cas his lesson, and Cas absently thinks that this is absolutely not an effective punishment. Dean sinks his teeth into Cas’ shoulder blade and pushes even deeper, and Cas wants to run out and commit the crime all over again just to feel this over and over.

Dean’s hand smacks Cas’ ass, then curls around and underneath him to grab his dick, stroking only twice before Cas is coming, making an even bigger mess of the Impala.

“Gonna have to clean that, too,” Dean huffs, voice hoarse and broken because he’s close.

And then Cas can feel Dean coming, can feel the hot pulses as Dean curls around and into him, muscles tensing the relaxing, pushing both of them down into the wet mess Cas has made.

Dean nibbles lightly at Cas’ ear, and Cas knows he’s forgiven.

“Next time, just let me take care of the Impala,okay? Just buy me porn. Or a pie.”

Cas grins, relief adding to his orgasmic high. “Okay. I can do that.”


Moffat Appreciation Day 2016: Happily Ever After

Last year, I wrote about the overwhelming optimism that drove the characters of the Eleventh Doctor’s era to overcome dark situations that could have destroyed them, and this year I want to return to that theme having now seen the last two episodes of series 9 and how that optimism had transformed but ultimately still triumphed.

Where the Eleventh Doctor’s era could be described much like a children’s fairy tale with characters who are put into truly horrifying situations that they overcome through the power of love, the Twelfth Doctor’s era brought the darker side of those stories into focus. Love remained one of the most powerful forces in the universe, but this era explored the reality that love doesn’t always last a lifetime, even for the main characters. 

Rory and Amy left the show when their story was finished, and they lived long, happy lives, dying of old age off screen. We all know Cinderella will one day die and so will Amy Pond, but the picture book ends long before that day. When Amy Pond stopped being the Girl Who Waited, it was the beginning of the end of her time on the show, but River Song and Clara Oswald remained on the show long after the stories of ‘The Woman who Killed the Doctor” and “The Impossible Girl” had been resolved. 

And they lived until their lives were cut short in tragic, yet heroic deaths. With the direction the show had been taking in series 8 and 9, their stories could have been bleak reminders of the reality that many people die before they ever reach old age, and what we think of as happily ever after is rare (if not impossible), but instead, their endings came with an acceptance of the inevitability of death, while at the same time allowing these women to control their fate in a way we can only dream of in the real world. 

The show did not lose all of its optimism as it grew out of it’s fairy tale era, and instead of telling us that River and Clara won’t get their happily ever afters, it asked us to examine how we define happily ever after. Clara Oswald will face the raven and River Song will go to the Library, but those endings do not prevent them from having their own happily ever afters. These two characters are given the opportunity to seize the time they do have and live it the best they can so that when they die, they will have lived full lives on their own terms. Happily ever after does not mean forever. It’s a message we can all take to heart knowing that we too will not live forever. 

Clara flies off to see the universe with her new companion, and River Song spends 24 years with the man she loves (and with a vortex manipulator and a time machine, it could easily be more than 24 years). They will both die, just as we will all die, but their stories are neither tragedies nor fairy tales. Their stories are examples of what fantasy does best - addressing the harsh realities of life while allowing the characters to do the things we wish we could do, taking both time and death into their own hands.

anonymous asked:

The whole group plss LILY ❤

*sings* OH MY GOD THANKS!!!!!!

Originally posted by moos-ur-toxic



*shuffles around a bit* 
*mumbles* Hana..dul…sET


Originally posted by kimbapandkpop

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clok16  asked:

Um.. E-Excuse me D-Dark... But... I'm going through some stressful times... Could I please have some comforting words?...

Dark’s hand lashed from the shadow of his sides, and in a snake-like fashion, his fingers became jaws that latched onto their chin, whipping their head around in order to force them to look to his face.

“You listen to me. You listen with every fiber in your being. You. Are. Worth. It. No matter what you are experiencing. No matter what you believe you deserve, or don’t deserve. No matter how overworked you feel, no matter how awful you believe your life may be right now. You are going to make your way through this hell. You are going to claw your way back to the surface, you are going to kick and scream and show fate that it doesn’t always get to decide. Because You. Are. Worth. It.”

He was snarling and fidgeting, the edges of him fanning out in the neon colors of the 3-D effect.

“No matter what words come from a hateful mouth. No matter what judgments fall upon you. No matter what your own family claims you to be. No matter how your friends treat you, how your grades look, how your body feels, how you speak, think, hear, see, smell, taste, and live. You. Are. Worth. It.”

David in Portland

I’m writing this while I’m still on a David high…last night was so good and I still cannot believe I finally saw David in person. First off, a few personal notes. One, my outfit was a success. Second, stopping at Powell’s and finally purchasing Bucky F*cking Dent was the best decision of the day (more on that later).

-When David came out on stage for the sound check it was one of those moments when the breath was just taken out of my lungs and my heart started beating very quickly. 

-Here are my initial reactions to David in person. Yeah. It was a lot. And yeah. He smells like a very good man.

-He is so handsome. I have heard from so many people that this is true (that he’s way more handsome in person than he is in photos) and today I saw it for myself. Indeed. He is, honestly, hot. So hot. It was the #1 thought running through my mind on my hour drive home.

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“What about Rome? Or Hawaii!?” Cas’ voice rose to an almost shrill shriek as he poured himself into the ‘destination honeymoon’ search on google. “The water would be so romantic!”
Years ago Dean would’ve scoffed, maybe shrugged or rolled his eyes, but today his lips curled up in a smile of contentment. After years of fighting, clawing his way through hunts and hell and heaven, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Curled up in a home, still not fully furnished, with a man who loved him enough to say 'I do’. He didn’t care where they went on their honeymoon, how much money they would have to scrape together, or how far they’d have to travel. As long as he spent his days gazing into blue and holding a hand that never let up.
Suddenly Cas’ face scrunched up and he shook his head. Quickly his fingers worked to type in a new search. “Overseas won’t do. No planes.”
“Babe. I’ll fly-”
“No.” Blue eyes, full of compassion and care, flickered over to meet Dean’s. “I don’t want either of us to worry about a thing. It has to be perfect.”
At that Dean’s heart skipped a beat. As if he could fall more in love with the fallen angel. “Sweetheart, it will be perfect. Even if we pitch a tent in the back yard for a week. Just as long as it’s the two of us and no stress.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Cas discarded his laptop to instead join Dean on the bed. As they fell together in a cuddle perfected over the years, it was hard to tell whose breath was whose. “I don’t object to that.”
Letting out a puff of a laugh, Dean pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s hair and let his eyes slide shut. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow and pick out a tent.”
Cas giggled then let himself breathe out a sigh. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, angel.”
In bed that night, with the lights of and nothing in the air but Cas’ soft snoring, Dean held to him with one arm and fiddled with his wedding ring with the other. He’d call the garage tomorrow, get his week off, spend his honeymoon with the love of his life, and then live out every day with Castiel Winchester by his side.