wine from here

Angels in the Bunker

Characters: Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Lucifer x Reader (you’ll see *wink wonk*)

Word Count: 1,580

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: This was requested by @averagegaykid! I loved writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy it! I hope you’ve all enjoyed Satan Sunday this week!! I love you all so much!!

You assembled the four angels, all of them standing together in front of you.  They all towered over you, which was one of the reasons you recruited their help.  While the Winchesters were gone, you were going to decorate the bunker for Christmas.  It was not an easy task to do by yourself.  

You had them each bring along different decorations.  Balthazar was to get the Christmas tree, and the ornaments for it.  Gabriel was supposed to get lights for the tree, along with stockings.  Castiel was sent to get candy for the stockings, along with candy canes for the tree.  You asked Lucifer to bring one thing, garland.  You knew Lucifer was not a fan of Christmas, but he could never say no to you.

“Alright my angels,” you smiled.  “We only have the rest of today and a little bit of tomorrow to decorate the bunker.  Dean and Sam don’t take long on hunts.  They’ll be even quicker when they realize this is just a ruse.”

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anonymous asked:

Levihan. Title? Um... Mary poppins. Lol idk

Send me a title and a pairing and I will give you the summary of a fic I will never write.

Why not make it a Mary Poppins AU then? Lmao Levi would be Mary Poppins, obviously. Levi Poppins. He’d sail in on an umbrella and would be Eren, Armin, and Mikasa’s new Nannie. They’d go on adventures in which he tried to teach them the values of hard work tidiness. Hanji would be the chimney sweeper who tags along and shamelessly flirts with him throughout all of their adventures. Bonus: Levi singing the spoon full of sugar song, but every other word is an expletive.

Provence - France

The landscapes of Provence have long inspired the work of artists such as Claude Monet and Pierre-Auguste Renoir. The region is famous for its historical buildings, that include medieval villages, castle ruins, museums and cathedrals. Although most inhabitants speak French, Provencal is the traditional language of the region, and is similar to Catalan or Spanish. 

The region is famous also for its wine. The climate is warm and sunny, with a dry wind, making perfect conditions for growing grapes to make wine. The worlds most expensive rose wine is from here, made by Chateau D'Esclans. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt also own their own vineyard, where they produce a wine called Miraval. 

When it’s been a long week, and you’re so exhausted you don’t want to move other than to accept the pizza delivery: having nonstop Solo! Harry content to re-watch is exactly what the doctor ordered.

anonymous asked:

*whispers* what's percytaur

oh, you sweet summer child—WELP *cracks knucles* can’t keep the past buried forever! 

time for a lesson in pjo history:

once upon a time, years ago (probably abour four or five i think), there was a fic that was labeled as the “percytaur” fic, which was, in the simplest most rated g words i can give you, a smut fic between percy jackson and the minotaur.

and it gained in popularity (did i mention it even got a second fic?), through word of mouth, or rather word of text post, and everyone read it, and everyone was scarred, and there were many shitposts and jokes made about it, and it will forever live in this fandom’s history no matter what. the end.

and that, my lovely anon, is what percytaur is

Dysfunctional!Everlark-Part Two

If you’re interested, I’ve continued this drabble. Part One can be found here.

Peeta walked into the apartment later that afternoon and was surprised to find his roommate in the kitchen, bent in front of their open refrigerator.

“I have to say, Katniss,” he told her. “You and a fridge full of food—my two favorite things in the world.”

“Oh, please.” Her voice echoed from the depths of the fridge. “I know you’re just dying to know if I’m wearing any underwear—“ Peeta leaned down to peer beneath the fitted skirt of her charcoal dress. “—I’m not by the way.”

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