Are we sure that’s Laura being created out of thin air to counter Bob? ‘cause that’s all I’m seeing, here on Tumblr and elsewhere.
But as far as I can tell, that sphere could just as well be the spirit of Laura triumphant, who transcended her suffering and transmuted her garmonbozia into gold or something (idk I’m currently hung up on the duality of the color yellow). Forged by BOB, she’s best equipped to be put back to Earth to counter BOB. Maybe we’re witnessing the origin not of Laura but of Sheryl Lee’s fabled third character. Or maybe not! I’m just saying there’s a vast degree of ambiguity in that scene.

anonymous asked:

I don't think I'll get over that scene in s10 when Cas is in bed and is coughing (I can't remember exactly what happened before, it's been a while) and Sam's talking about a case he's found, then he just says "you know what, it doesn't matter" (something along those lines) after hearing what state Cas is in, like, he doesn't want to hurt him, he cares about him, and I want more scenes like this except they don't talk about Dean

@ Dabb please can we have more Sam and Cas interactions without having anything to do with Dean. Just then hanging out watching a documentary, having fun, laughing, more hugs


Originally posted by lukearnold

Sastiel is amazing, I love it, we have had hardly any of it but what we have had is gold, we need more of it.

They went from ‘he’s an abomination’ and ‘he’s a literal Angel of the Lord to be put on a pedestal’ to comfortable bros who care about each other, fight for each other and have helped teach each other learn so much…

The only reason IMO we don’t have more is because they downplay it because Destiel is so under the radar it has to be less than that and ARGH, so when Destiel is canon they can start being deeply rooted brothers and friends in a more obvious way.

Give me Sam and Cas going on runs in the morning while Dean rolls his eyes at them when they come back, but totally checking out Cas all sweaty and hot. 

Give me Sam and Cas sharing a massive bag of candy in the impala. 

Give me Sam and Cas sitting next to each other reading or watching documentaries on nice cushioned chairs or a couch and spending time together in comfortable silence. 

Give me them doing stuff NOT to do with Dean, just because they enjoy each others’ company and have mutual interests.


anonymous asked:

Happy birthday!!! I know it's a little late, but I do hope you had an exceptional day!! For the prompt fill, I was wondering if you could do some platonic kidge? I just love to see pidge and Keith bonding over mutual hatred, cynicism, teasing, sarcasm, and giggles. Maybe Pidge giving Keith a hard time about his crush?? Or them being stuck/stranded somewhere? Idek, I know it'll be great as long as you write it, lol. I love you and your blog and writing so much! Thank you for continuing to share💖

ANON WHAT A GREAT CHOICE i love platonic keith & pidge so much lakjdf

“I’m bored,” Pidge says, flopping back onto the couch. Keith glances over at her from his end of the seat, used to her dramatics at this point. “Keith,” Pidge says. “I’m bored.” 

“I heard you,” Keith says idly, not looking up from his book. He sticks a thumb in it, though, because when Pidge was bored, something dangerous and/or hilarious tended to follow. 

She shuffles her body around a little, making a face. “I think we should fix the antigrav in the room,” she says. 

“The antigrav isn’t broken,” Keith points out, as they are, quite clearly, sitting on the couch, following the rules of gravity. 

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Pidge says. “It’s broken if the goal is that we actually don’t have antigrav and you and I try to duel with our bayards while floating.” 

“Hm,” Keith says, because he’s actually kind of intrigued by that. 

“C’mon,” Pidge says, trying to sound convincing. “You’re the one that ends up floating in space the most often, wouldn’t you like to practice fighting in similar conditions?”

Keith glances at the doorway, and then back at Pidge. “No one is supposed to be back from the supply run for another hour,” he says. 

“I can have us in the air in three,” Pidge promises, eyes flashing behind her glasses. 

Pidge manages it in two, and after a moment of spinning in place, Keith whips out his sword and very quickly realizes that he has little to no momentum, especially without his suit and its jets. 

“Ha,” Pidge says, grinning as she pulls out her own bayard. The cord of it whips past him, wrapping around a light fixture. “Lance really is the tactics in your relationship, huh?” She zooms past him, kicking out, and he leans back just in time to avoid a foot in his face. He manages to snag the back of her shirt, and gets pulled along in her wake, and although he ends up hitting the wall, it works out in his favor – he springboards off of it, launching himself at her, grinning when she shrieks with fake terror and swings out of his way again.

The others find them still floating in the air, laughing at each other – Keith has been gently shocked multiple times, hair standing slightly on end, and Pidge has been wedged upside down under a chandelier light and can’t move. Lance mutters something about children and goes to get Hunk, but not before blowing a taunting kiss at Keith.

“I didn’t think about us getting back down,” Pidge admits to Keith, still grinning, and he bursts into laughter again.

pearlgirl710  asked:

Happy birthday!!!!! i held off on asking all day bc i couldnt think of anything good, but maybe this will work???? Klance, in the coffeeshop royalty AU, "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue"!! and it doesnt need to wedding themed if you dont want, it can be one thing or four mini things whatever is more interesting or easier for you!! I love your writing so much btw, and i look forward to what you do with this!!

hmmm this is a tricky one, but i think what i’ll do is combine all of these things into one fic but not make it wedding themed :) hopefully that works for you! see if you guys can spot each one <3

Keith has gotten used to sleeping late in Paris, because Lance lets him get away with it. Shiro had always insisted on him rising early because he had to be at the coffee shop early, and even on days when Keith wasn’t working he hadn’t been allowed to sleep in. Here, Keith curls up in bed until eight or nine, when Lance will call him and coax him awake with promises of eating lunch together when Lance takes his break from his internship. 

He’s taken to sleeping in Lance’s shirts, and even though Lance complains he hasn’t made him stop yet – one time Keith is pretty sure he leaves a sweater draped over the back of a chair on purpose, because Lance is usually pretty meticulous about his clothing being taken care of. 

Keith likes Lance’s clothing because they’re usually really soft and well made, and they smell like Lance, an interesting mixture of woodsy smoke and clean soap. When he wakes up one Saturday morning, he buries his nose in the collar of his shirt and drifts back into a hazy sleep, until his phone rings shrilly on the nightstand. 

“Good morning!” he hears Lance chirp when he holds the phone up to his ear. 

“Morning,” Keith mumbles, sitting up and rubbing at his eye with a fisted hand. The sleeves of the shirt cover his palms, and he rubs the soft material against his cheek just because he can. “You done for the day?”

“Yep!” Lance says. There’s a slight noise that indicates he’s in a car, probably being driven home. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes. You gonna be ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, yawning. “See you soon.”

“Bye, love,” Lance says, blowing a kiss over the phone. Keith hears one of his guards bark out a laugh before the call disconnects. 

Keith showered the night before, so he stumbles over the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. While in there, he spots the soft blue stud earrings Lance had bought for him last weekend while they were shopping, and he puts them in his ears, already thinking of pairing them with another one of Lance’s shirts. 

When Lance arrives, he’s sitting on the chaise in the living area, curled up with a book, smothering a yawn into yet another too-long shirt sleeve. 

“Are you gonna steal all of my clothing?” Lance asks, laughing. He loosens his tie and throws a briefcase on the counter, already shrugging out of his own shirt. 

“What’s the point of a rich and powerful boyfriend if I can’t have all your clothes,” Keith says, unrepentant, and wiggles more comfortably into the shirt for emphasis. 

“I knew you were in it for the designer sweaters,” Lance calls out from the other room, before walking back through with a t-shirt on. “You ready to go?” 

“Yep,” Keith says, carefully placing a sliver of paper into the book. 

“Oh, hey, wait, that reminds me,” Lance says, walking towards his briefcase. “I found this while I was walking out for breakfast this morning, I thought you might want it.” He digs through the briefcase and holds out a thin enamel bookmark with a tassel on top, covered in a stunningly colorful map of Paris. “You know, so you don’t keep using receipts and stuff.”

Keith takes the bookmark and holds it gently, tilting it in the light. “It’s beautiful,” he says, looking up at Lance. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Hey, you just pointed out how rich and powerful I am,” Lance says, waggling his eyebrows. “I just wanted to get my adorable and forgiving boyfriend a gift.”

“Lance,” Keith says sternly, but he’s starting to smile. 

“Fine,” Lance says, sighing. “We have to go to a banquet tomorrow night. It’s going to be really long and boring and I’ll have to introduce you to about fifty different people you won’t have to remember, and it’s gonna last until one in the morning.”

“Hmm,” Keith says. “Sounds fun.” 

“It’s gonna be black tie so like, we may have to also go shopping,” Lance says tentatively. Keith makes a face – Lance’s clothing is fun to wear, but Keith has no interest in being part of the shopping experience. Lance’s stuff is all specifically tailored to fit him, which means fittings, which means waiting while people measure each part of your body while trying to force champagne and little canapes on you. He’s already been through it twice for other important dinners, because apparently he’s not allowed to wear the same outfit twice.

Lance is making puppy dog eyes at him. “We can go to that museum you wanted to,” he says, wheedling. “You know I can convince Shay to let us.”

“Fine,” Keith says. “But I’m not getting a whole new outfit. Just the parts I can’t get away with wearing again.”

“That’s fine,” Lance says, reaching out and tugging Keith close against him. “I’ll let you have one of my old ties, no one will notice. Thank you, baby.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Keith says, sighing, but he doesn’t really mind, especially when Lance puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head up for a kiss. They end up thirty minutes late to their lunch reservation, but there really are a lot of perks to having a prince for a boyfriend.

anonymous asked:

happy birthday!!! you are an amazing writer :) could you do a little super hero au (young justice if u ever watched it? or teen titan-y) for klance? :D thank you and love you!! <3

i’ve never seen young justice and it’s been a while since i saw teen titans, so i’m just gonna try and aim for that and hopefully it’s ok~

“That was the fourth villain attack of the day,” Hunk groans, slumping on the couch. Pidge doesn’t even stop to complain, just trudges tiredly to her room, still smoking faintly from their last battle. Lance watches her go, feeling exhausted himself, trying to decide if he could make it to his room or if he wanted to collapse here.

“Good job, guys,” Shiro says wearily, raising his hand. Lance makes a noise and Shiro laughs a little, heading out to his own room. Hunk is already snoring on the couch, but Lance has decided he wants to sleep in his own room. He looks around, finally spying Keith. 

“Hey,” he says, reaching over and touching Keith’s shoulder where he’s leaned against the wall. Keith jerks a little, and then sighs. Lance almost laughs. He’d fallen asleep leaning against the wall. “You should head to bed.” 

Keith isn’t smoking like Pidge because he’s immune to fire, but he’s covered in scrapes and dirt from dodging attacks. Lance lifts a hand against a scratch on his cheek and runs his thumb over it – it seals itself under his fingertips in a cool motion. Keith’s eyelashes flutter. 

“You too,” Keith says, yawning. “You took that one explosives guy down by yourself.”

“I am,” Lance admits. “Just – waiting for you.” 

Keith blinks at him, once, twice, and then his eyes narrow. “Oh,” he says softly. Lance is too tired to blush, but he feels his heart skip a little bit anyways. They’ve done this a couple of times, usually too exhausted to think about it, but this is the first time Lance has made a point of asking Keith. 

The walk to Lance’s room is slow; several times they stop because one of them has stumbled and the other has to hold onto them so they won’t fall over. When the door whooshes open, Lance almost cries with relief. 

He strips out of his outfit, down to his boxers, and falls into bed. Keith does the same, clearly on autopilot, and Lance rolls out of the way just in time for Keith to fall into bed with him, exhaling softly. Keith tucks up against his side, his hair tickling Lance’s throat. He thinks it’s the most comfortable he’s ever felt.

“Are we gonna pretend this never happened tomorrow?” he whispers, reaching up to run his hand carefully over Keith’s hair.

Keith doesn’t reply, so he glances down at his face, unsurprised that Keith has already fallen asleep. 

“I hope not,” he sighs, closing his own eyes. He’s asleep in less than a minute, holding Keith close and drifting into dreams of fire and ice.

What matters to an FJ/TP isn’t whether or not something can be judged on the social values of right or wrong, but if it has logical consistency. Hence why someone can be an absolutely horrible person, but as long as they follow a consistent code, they’ll be tolerable and often enjoyable to an FJ/TP.

Me, a simple fool: it’s nice that we’re getting “Dale Cooper’s FWWM” but (assuming the show will indeed allow its characters some degree of comeuppance) too bad that the more conventional hero will be the one to achieve some sort of victory against the evil that plagued Laura and Leland before him. I mean, Laura is the one who originally won her fight, he’s just lucky that he stars in the bigger, conclusive piece of canon…
David Lynch, sitting at the corner of the street with a live turkey and a 6ft tall sign that reads FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: SHERYL LEE: …Dale who

anonymous asked:

Heyyyy HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I love seeing you on my dash and your soft klance (literally all ur fics....how...i melt evrytim) gives me life. Idk if you're still doing drabbles...if you are - klance soulmate au? Either way I've loved your birthday drabbles so far. Hope you had an amazing day!! <3


There’s a constellation of stars on Keith’s chest – the constellation is unknown, not from their solar system, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s his mark. Sometimes they just don’t matter. His mother and father’s marks are knives, pressed to the backs of their necks like possessive hands. His mother wears her hair short so it’s never hidden. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, his mark will feel warm, and he’ll know his soulmate is putting their hand against their own mark. He does his very best not to touch it himself; he doesn’t trust it, not really, and he deliberately avoids thinking about it most of the time. 

It’s not until he’s at the Garrison that the subject really starts coming up. For teenagers enrolled in a serious space engineering and flight program, there’s a lot of gossiping and attempts to find out what everyone’s marks look like. Keith learns to keep to himself, duck his head when he’s changing in the locker rooms, shielding his stars from view. There are others who show theirs off proudly, who make sure and draw attention to them – flashy necklaces or short sleeves or midriff bearing shirts when they’re allowed to dress informally. Some people just tell everyone what their mark is upon meeting them, surreptitiously scanning them for their own.   

For some reason, the only other person that no one really knows about is another boy in his year, Lance, who always laughs off questions about his soulmate, and diverts attention to whoever’s asking him. Keith watches it happen again and again, until people eventually stop asking. 

Keith doesn’t mean to see, but one day when they’re changing into their uniforms after training, Lance, usually careful about changing with his back to the group, looks up – everyone does, as one of the other boys accidentally smacks his face into an open locker door with a loud crash. For some reason, Keith’s eyes flash to Lance as he spins in place, and there, on his chest – 

A constellation of stars. 

There’s no mistaking them – the same ones rest in Keith’s skin, and without thinking, his hand comes up to touch them with shaky fingers. Lance goes incredibly still, looking down, and he touches his mark in bewilderment, blinking. It grows warm under Keith’s fingertips. Lance looks up and around with wide eyes, and they catch on Keith too quickly for Keith to look away. He can’t see Keith’s mark, but he can see his face; he can see where his hand is resting.

“You?” Keith sees him mouth, brow furrowed. He looks stunned, confused. Keith lets go of the mark, suddenly terrified that Lance can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest as well.

Keith pulls his uniform on the rest of the way, not bothering to button it properly, and runs out of the locker room without looking back.