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Mostly me not doing my work and posting gifs of whatever show I'm currently in love with.
Just like every other blog.

I keep collecting reaction gifs and then never using them.


— 13 hours ago with 1 note
Anonymous asked: There's this couple at my school, so this one guy is afraid to dye his hair blue but he really really wants to, so his boyfriend goes ahead and dyes his hair pink just so he wouldn't have to be "embarrassed alone." pls pls




I went wayyyy overboard with this one but I LOVED IT

— 19 hours ago with 1026 notes
#actually canon  #DeanCas for ts  #destiel for ts  #supernatural for ts  #spn for ts 


Castiel and Dean do this thing sometimes. This thing where Cas peers into Dean’s room in the middle of the night, all wide blue eyes and dark feathery bedhead that’s sticking up every which way, and he’s got this look on his face that tells Dean the unsaid statement hanging in the cool nighttime air: I don’t to be alone.  

And because it’s only common decency and Dean can’t get to sleep anyway, he rolls over and pulls back the covers and asks his own silent question: So are you gonna get in here or not?

That’s always the point at which Cas seems to melt. Even though the whole thing is practically routine it’s happened so often, being offered a space in Dean’s bed yet again seems to flip a switch in him. And just like that, all the tension holding his limbs taut like guitar strings strung tight enough to snap rushes out of him in a wave, and by the time he crawls into Dean’s bed he’s a pile of looseness burrowing into the mess of blankets. 

Of course, it’s nothing weird. Two guys can share a bed without it being weird, and anyway, Dean’s pretty sure Cas doesn’t even understand the concept of seduction. So it’s not like Dean’s the designated prey of some nerdy, burger-obsessed temptress. Or whatever the dude version of a temptress is. 

There’s just… something nice about knowing someone is there. Knowing that, if you reach out just a little, your fingertips will brush warm skin or the soft cotton of a t-shirt that’s been worn almost too many times.

And if little pinpricks of electricity shoot through Dean when he accidentally bumps his hand against Castiel one night, it’s only because the contact was unexpected. 

And if they somehow end up all tangled together with Dean’s arms around Cas and Cas’ face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck the next night, it’s only because they’re sharing body heat. Like penguins. 

And if Dean’s lips find themselves pressed against Castiel’s warm mouth the night after that… Well, neither of them can come up with an excuse for that one. But kissing is much more enjoyable than worrying, so they decide not to bother too much with the latter. 

(via feminist-fairy)

— 19 hours ago with 119 notes
#actually canon  #DeanCas for ts  #destiel for ts  #supernatural for ts  #spn for ts  #queue you later 
On the Subtext of Fear.



I will tell you a story of a man who frightened me.

You don’t want to see him when he’s been hanging out with his friends Jose, Jack, and Jim, and let me tell you they are bosom buddies. Any time could be Miller Time. We learned to tread carefully around him, and he kept me close to his side, drilled it into me that I had to be everything he wanted me to be: an idealised version of himself. When I failed (and I always seemed to fail), he’d–

I made friends with his friends. They don’t treat me very well either, but at least in their company I can forget or go numb. I learned firsthand what it means to drown your sorrows and I learned it from him.

He didn’t always raise his voice. When he did I’d know what to do, how to make myself small, how to cajole – but sometimes it’s so much worse when he doesn’t. When he’s cold and sneering-scathing, worse yet, when he’s silent, I still freeze up, put my chin up, swallow hard and look him in the eye because I might not know what’s coming but I know what he expects.

Take it like a man.

I’ve become the man he was, because I could never be the man he wanted me to be.

That frightens me more than anything he ever did or said.

Ahh, but see, I never said he drank alcohol, and I never said that he was physically and emotionally abusive, did I? Yet you were able to glean that from the story all the same, because that’s how I chose the words; that’s what I built the narrative for you to see.

A survivor’s fear is what lurks within negative space, not a lurid blow-by-blow tableau.

Psh Tom everyone knows narrative negative space is a lie. 

It’s ceeeertainly not something they’d ever use on Supernatural. 

Or overcompensation, or unreliable narration. 

— 21 hours ago with 121 notes
#abuse cw  #alcohol cw  #dean girl for life  #this is not a john winchester appreciation blog  #that tag is stolen  #but it's too good to pass up  #spn ts  #queue you later 
Uzo Aduba’s reaction to winning the Critics’ Choice Award for ‘Best Guest Performer in a Comedy Series”

(Source: lisaedelstein, via face-down-asgard-up)

— 1 day ago with 43226 notes
#queue you later 

"I thought you said you were hanging up."
"You first."
"You’re still there."
"Hang up."
"No, you hang up."
"Alright. We’ll hang up at the same time, then."
"Okay. On three, Cas?"
"I love you."

(via faeryn)

— 1 day ago with 5948 notes
#oops i slipped  #deancas  #destiel ts  #spn ts  #my fic  #sorta 




Click here to find out why these questions help you.

This is so important!

I never know what to ask and end up looking like a fool cause I don’t have a question prepared.

Don’t be me.

(via beanmom)

— 1 day ago with 104603 notes
#holy shit  #job advice  #pairswell 
Rosie and Sam’s “arrangement”


Rosie Cotton wanted The Green Dragon for herself, but her uncle made it clear that she’d never get it without a husband.

"Runnin’ an inn is no job for a maiden, dear Rosie."

"You know I practically run this inn already, uncle! I don’t need a husband."

"You might say that now, but there’s ruffians about these days. If you don’t find yourself a good husband, the Dragon’ll go to my second-cousin’s son-in-law."

She had no desire to marry. The tedium of wifely work held no appeal for her, not when she’d grown up underfoot of the cooks and barkeeps of her uncle’s pride and joy. Rosie needed a husband who wouldn’t mind her…strangeness.

So when Samwise Gamgee flirted with her, darting glances back at Frodo Baggins, Rosie knew how to fix her problem.

SHe knew what she was getting into. She’d seen the way that Sam looked at Master Frodo, and how he’d ask her to dance only at the insistence of his friend. She had no delusions about the order of Samwise’s affections: her dear, sweet Samwise was head over heels for Frodo. 

If she didn’t know that already, she would have known it when he disappeared with the young Mr. Baggins without even saying goodbye. 

There was, of course, that small snag of Sam running off on his queer adventure, but she’d had enough time to make it fairly clear that there was something going on between them (though, honestly, sometimes she wondered if it was more work than it was worth to make it look like Samwise loved her half as much as he loved Frodo).

She loved dear Samwise, and she loved the little girls he gave her, but she loved him only as much as she needed to, no more. He loved her, too, of course — they were quite comfortable with the life they’d arranged. But sometimes, she would catch him staring off into nothingness, with a soft expression of grief mingled with love.

Sam was a good hobbit. She was glad he’d had his true love. 

— 1 day ago with 1 note
#my fic!  #lookit!  #lotr  #lotr ficlet  #i have no clue what ship to tag this with  #frodo x sam  #or  #sam x rosie  #both I guess  #there are many ways to love