well not really but shhh

7

Bonus: 
Star Plat looking at the pictures X3

You can thank @thedevilsdesciples and out buddy Ratpat for this.

okay well I finally got an orchestrion for Cyril’s apartment since enough people poked me about it (I usually have game music muted like a scrubcake okay so I didn’t think about it {/sulks} )

…. so now I need music recommendations. someone please help me my family is dying

Special Instructions (3/?)

Summary: Drunk Emma really likes pizza. She also really happens to like the cute delivery guy who seems content to carry out all of her wishes via the “Special Instructions” box on the website. (AO3)
Rating: M
Word Count: ~3800 (why do they keep getting longer?)
Chapters: One Two

hope u like crazy hot mess emma 😝 🍺🍻🍷🍸🍹🍾🍕 😵

remember a few months ago when i asked everyone to tell me stories of stupid/funny shit y’all did when drunk? thanks for the inspiration ;))

reader requested tags: @lenfaz @ilovemesomekillianjones @like-waves-on-the-beach 

.

Special instructions: pls send cute delivry guy, i missss himm   

One of the benefits of having a job with odd hours was that Emma could get completely trashed on a Tuesday evening and not give a single fuck as to how it would affect her the next morning. She’d started her own private party several hours earlier when all of her friends had turned her down for one reason or another. (Because they had jobs, mostly. Fucking party pooping productive members of society.)

She was giggling so hard she snorted when she clicked ‘order’ on the website, so beyond caring about anything that she felt no shyness or shame whatsoever.

Drunk did not even begin to cover it. Drunk was several homemade cocktails earlier. She was mixing a bunch of things she really shouldn’t be mixing. She couldn’t remember everything she ingested, but she did recall the two straight shots of tequila that she started off with (and what a way to start), as well as the few gulps of red wine that she took straight from the bottle because she was a respectable, refined adult. She vaguely recalled an almost-daiquiri of questionable flavor, as well as one particularly horrible concoction of Red Bull, triple sec, vodka, gin, and Gatorade because apparently she was trying to liquefy her internal organs.

(It didn’t help that she’d pulled out the entire contents of her alcohol cabinet and placed everything on her kitchen counter, giving her a wide selection of self-destructive options.)

Keep reading

“Yeah. The best memory I’ve got.”


What I was originally working on didn’t work out, so this rough quickie of a hurt Eight happened instead. Blame it on having listened to Death in Blackpool recently.

Not gonna lie, Light and L slightly drunk slow dancing to songs that weren’t really meant for it is my weakness

For the lovely castielssexappeal only like a month late sry ilybb

“Man, what a bore,” Dean complained as he grabbed his beer from the table, “That vamp didn’t even try to win.”

Castiel huffed an exasperated breath from where he lounged on the couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as his friend spoke.  His coat hung off the back of the sofa, wrinkled and splashed with red.  Dean walked over and joined Cas on the other side of the couch, facing him.

He took a swig, “Vamps these days.  Flash your fangs and run.  It’s disgraceful.”

Another huff, “It’s like you need to be injured on a hunt,” Castiel mused.

“Well maybe that’s ’cause I’ve got angel mojo to fix me up,” Dean retorted, poking Cas’s legs with is foot.  Cas smiled as he scooted up the couch, making room for Dean to lie down as well.  The hunter sighed, resting his head against the arm rest and closing his eyes.  The pair sat in silence for a moment before Dean nudged at the angel’s legs again.

“Come on.”

Cas smiled and rolled his eyes at Dean like the annoying little kid he was.  He complied however, scooting up a little more before matching his feet up with Dean’s, knees bent.

‘Foot wars’, Dean had called it, showing Cas the game he and Sammy played when they were younger.  The two players lied on the couch, facing each other as they tried to push the other’s feet until their own knees locked.  Castiel thought the game was pointless, considering Dean’s human strength was no match for his.  But he still liked it.

Dean wasn’t really playing anyway, his legs barely trying as they pushed each other back and forth.  Soon though, the hunter got a mischievous look in his eye, and he began throwing in actual pushes when Castiel least expected them, startling the angel slightly and requiring him to push back.  Dean got into it as time passed, grinning like an idiot every time he caught Cas off guard, pouting every time his force was countered.

Eventually Cas decided to put an end to Dean’s reign of terror, pushing back with his actual strength until his knees were locked.  Cas let his legs go slack and he stretched out on the newly won sofa territory.  Dean grumbled as he pushed Castiel’s legs away, crawling up on top of the other man.

He propped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders as he glared down into the sparking blue eyes below him.

“Using your freaky angel strength is cheating,” he said, barely suppressing the smile that made his lips twitch.

Castiel, on the other hand, was full out beaming, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Dean,” he said, monotone clear in his voice, widening his eyes in mock innocents.  Dean’s deadly serious façade broke as his mouth fought to remain in a straight line.  Suddenly the situation had switched, Castiel pushed up and spun, flipping Dean under him.  In a flash the angel straddled his hips and pinned his arms above his head.

Leaning over to look into the wide eyes of the hunter, Cas whispered, “It’s not my fault you have… limited strength, Dean. You’re just a man.”

Dean squinted up at him, “Just a man, huh?”

Castiel smirked and nodded, “Just a man.”

“No, you’re probably right,” Dean nodded slightly, “What could a little human like me do to an all powerful angel like yourself.”

“Exactly,” Castiel had the mischievous look now, grinning down at Dean, anticipating his next move.

Dean hummed quietly, “Right.”

Dean rose up to capture the angel in a kiss, arching his back up to press their chests together.  As usual, the angel melted to his touch.  Dean was able to release his hands, but he didn’t pull away.  Instead he wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist and smiled into the kiss.  Castiel turned them over so Dean was on top again, pressing down into the angel.  The angel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, humming into the familiar kiss and intertwining their legs.

They were unsure of how much time had passed before a loud shout rang through the room.

“What the hell?!”

The pair broke apart instantly, heads snapping to the direction of the sound.  There stood Sam, eyes wide, barely holding onto the file of papers in his hand.  His eyes moved from Dean to Cas, still locked in their embrace.  The pair quickly tried to disengage from their position, Dean managing to pull back far enough to fall off the sofa all together.  He landed with a thud on the ground and looked up at his brother.

“Ah, umm… heya Sammy,” Dean replied weakly, quickly running his hands through his hair in an attempt to look calm.

“Heya?”  He stared at Dean like he’d sprouted a second head.  The Winchester’s eyes snapped back to Castiel, still lying on the couch, hair amiss and blue eyes just as wide as the other two participants in this awkward encounter.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said.

“Hi……..”

“Listen, Sammy-” Dean began, but was quickly cut off by Sam walking away, promptly slamming the door.  The pair shared a glance before getting up to follow him, thoughts wild with how to explain this.

They caught up with Sam in the library, where he sat down the file and turned to his family.  Dean opened his mouth to say something but Sam beat him to it.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Ah…” the question kind of threw Dean off.  He hadn’t really thought about it all that much before the idea of coming out sent the thought of it far, far away.  He hadn’t really planned it.  It just happened. Dean was a little bit drunk and Cas was just a little too pretty and what do you know Dean Winchester might be a little bit gay.

“We were going to,” Castiel saved him from having to answer.  He glanced Dean’s way before continuing, “But we didn’t know how or when.”

His tone was a bit stiff, and Dean realized that maybe Cas had thought about it.  He felt a pang of guilt settle its way into his gut.  This wasn’t some girl he’d picked up at a bar, promised to call, and left the next morning onto a new hunt.  This was Cas, and Dean hadn’t put any thought onto how he looked at the situation.  He never even brought it up.  He made a mental note to apologize for it a thousand bajillion times later.

“So how long have you two…” Sam faded off awkwardly, gesturing sporadically in their direction.

“Not too lo-”

“A month and three days.”

Castiel’s words were out before Dean had a chance to finish his sentence. Looking back, Dean guessed he’d thought about it more than he’d like to admit.  But it had been a great month, his happiest in a while, Dean realized.

Sam’s eyebrows rose higher, if that was possible, “A month.  And you never told me.  Wait, quick what date is it?”

Dean gave him a weird look, “The date?”

“Yes, yes, the date,” Sam said, walking over to his computer to find it for himself.

Dean and Cas shared their confusion with a glance, then turned their attention back to the Winchester they were sure had gone mad.

Sam had seen the date and stood tall. He nodded slightly as he calculated something in his head, eyes darting back and forth.  Suddenly he swore quietly and hit the chair.

“Damnit,” he mumbled, turning to the pair, “You couldn’t have waited another week could you?”

Dean’s jaw dropped to produce some sort of answer, but none seemed to feel like presenting itself.  Sam sighed and walked down into the bunker’s corridor.

“KEVIN!” he shouted into the large building, his voice echoing off walls.  They heard a door open and close, accompanied by light footsteps as the prophet made his way to the library.  The boy entered the room, dreary eyed and frowning.

“What?” he asked, voice sleepy.  He was clearly getting a well-earned snooze, and Dean was curious why Sam had interrupted.

“May 10th.  You win,” Sam said grudgingly.

The fog cleared slightly from Kevin’s eyes, he seemed to awaken at the words.  He smiled, looking at Dean and Castiel across from him.

“Alright!” he said.

Dean was sure he was missing something.  Date? Win? There must have been some obvious answer, but Dean’s poor confused mind was too busy trying to sort out what language his brother and friend were speaking.  With a glance at Castiel, Dean saw his angel was desperately trying to decipher the situation as well.

“Hundred bucks, Sammy,” Kevin sniggered.  Sam pulled out his wallet and handed Kevin a bill, looking at the ceiling with an annoyed look the entire time.

“Wait,” Dean managed, “So… you’re not mad?”

Sam smiled slightly, “Mad?  Dean, I knew you had the hots for Cas a long time ago. A long, long time ago.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose at that, “What?  No-n-no you did not.  Cause I didn’t know.”

“I kinda knew, too,” Kevin added in helpfully.

“…So did everyone know I was gay before I did!?”

“Yes,” the pair said simultaneously.

Dean gave up, throwing his arms down at his sides and looking off to the bookshelves.

Castiel spoke up, “You two were betting money as to when we would become a couple…?”

Sam shrugged, “We were getting bored just waiting, so we made a poll.”

Dean was too busy thinking over everything that just happened to form a smart ass, snarky remark.  This was not at all the conversation he was expecting when he entered this room.  At all.  He’d expected shock and question after question.  Maybe a little anger, maybe even some disgust or disapproval?  Not this.  This was – way more than he could handle, more than he expected, but when he pushed away the surprised feelings or decoding thoughts, it was more than he had ever hoped for.  He was happy.  Overjoyed kind of happy.  Standing next to Cas, openly a couple with their small and broken family for the first time, and they’d accepted it like it was normal, without a second thought.

“Well, it was nice doing business with you, Sam,” the taller Winchester glared down at the prophet as he spoke, “But I’m heading back to bed.”

The boy turned back to the hall, pocketing his earnings, “Night, lovebirds!” he threw over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.

Dean made a note to slap him upside the head later.

When attention was put to Sam, all he said was, “You guys owe me a hundred bucks,” before he muttered some weak ass excuse and headed off for bed himself.

Dean decided he could use some rest, too.  He suppressed a yawn as he turned to face Castiel.  The other man returned his steady gaze.

“So… that was interesting,” Dean offered.

“To say the least.”

“But um…I… I’m happy, Cas.  I mean, coulda gone worse, right?”

“Extremely,” he confirmed.  The pair smiled at each other.  Stupid, random smiles that served other no purpose than to make them feel like a couple of lovesick idiots.

“Would you like to go to bed?” Castiel asked eventually.  Dean brightened at the idea.  Castiel didn’t sleep, but on occasion the angel would lay next to him through the night.  What he did for the hours the hunter slept, Dean had no idea, but he’d always found comfort in falling asleep in someone’s arms, and waking the same the next morning.

Soon all events of the day were blurry and overlooked as Dean pulled Cas close to him under the warm covers.  The angel snuggled into Dean’s soft ACDC shirt and wrapped his arms around his chest.  Dean rested his lips lightly on Castiel’s head, breathing the faint scent that always seemed to accompany the angel.  Even after a hunt, where the sharp metallic tang of dried blood overtook other smells, the scent of thunderstorms and rain always lingered on Castiel’s skin, maybe it was due to millenia of flying through the clouds. 

Soon the only sound in the black room was steady breathing.  Dean felt himself slipping into unconsciousness just as a thought made itself present in his mind.  Debating on whether or not to break the peaceful silence to voice it took Dean a couple minutes.  Finally he decided he’d better start now if he was going to reach a thousand bajillion any time soon.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered into the darkness.

“About what?” Cas mumbled into his shirt.

“About not talking about telling Sam and Kevin.”

The hunter felt Castiel smile against his chest, “It’s okay,” he murmured, “You’re just a man.”

Dean grinned into Castiel’s dark tuffs of hair that tickled the hunter’s nose.

“Just a man,” he confirmed.

Just a man with a knack for beer, old bands, and ganking monsters.

Just a man with a six four little brother who turned out to be a hero in the most unheroic circumstances.

Just a man who’d been rescued from eternal damnation by an angel of the Lord. 

Just a man who averted the apocalypse, defied destiny, and pissed off all the angels just on principal.

Just a man with an angel to answer all his calls.

Just a man with an angel to call his own.

anonymous asked:

Out of the 3 of you who has the most surprising secret talent?

[Norman] Well uh… *Dipper grabs his face, a marker in one hand* D-dipper? 

[Norman] “Precious”…? What does that mean–

[Dipper] Don’t worry my precious cinnamon bun, I appreciate you and your very, VERY special talent. 

[Norman] What talent?

[Dipper] Oh I don’t know… Maybe the fact that you can SEE and TALK to ghosts!?

[Norman] Well I wouldn’t really call it a talent–

[Dipper] Shhh *covers Norman’s mouth with his hand* Shhhhhh.

*Wirt is listening to music as he sings along softly. Dipper notices this and runs up behind him, jumping onto his back*

[Wirt] W-what singing “talent”?? 

[Dipper] Oh please, Wirt, I can’t count how many times I’ve heard you singing in the shower. Your voice is amazing, don’t you deny it!

(I was honestly going to answer with: [Norman] I do. But my cuteness isn’t surprising or a secret.)