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that ep gave me a lot of brotherly feels
(by ikebana,)
#’cas get out of bed or i’ll push you out’ #’cas come shower with me you stink and i want to suck your dick’ #’cas come on it’s 11 fucking 30 in the morning’#’cas sam made french toast i’m going to eat yours if you don’t get your lazy ass out here’ #’cas goddammit it’s 1 in the goddamn afternoon you can’t stay there forever’ #’no i’m not bringing you lunch i’m not enabling you’ #’ok cas move over sam went on a supply run and it’s time for little cas to at least get some exercise today’ (via divachester)
#Cas thinks even if he had been born human and had to learn to suffer them all his life #he’d still find mornings terrible #they’re terrible because there’s that window between getting out of bed and breakfast #where Cas is forced to be conscious without coffee #they’re terrible because who in their right mind would elect to escape the perfect cocoon of warmth beneath their blankets#Cas tries to tell Dean this #in between grunts and other unworded protests from beneath the covers #he quickly finds that the bed’s warmth in and of itself is not much of a persuasive argument to Dean #to forgo the trials of waking up #he does find that his own body heat however #the naked planes of his chest and the hot curves of his thighs and the way his mouth opens lazily around Dean’s smile #is pretty much all the argument he’ll ever need to convince Dean that mornings will always be terrible to him #but to suffer them with Dean #well #they become not so bad #on mornings when Dean refuses to immediately indulge him though #Cas simply strides into the kitchen naked #he’s found that backup strategy has an 8 in 10 success rate of getting Dean back into bed #even quicker than Cas himself #otp: the greatest love story ever told (via dirtyovercoats)
i just have a lot of feelings about jensen’s stripper dance moves in front of misha and have love will travel
D A N C E W I T H T H E D E V I L { a party mix for lucifer morningstar }
(dedicated to villainyandgoodcheekbones for her 21st!)
what better way to commemorate your fall from the house of your father than to throw a party at the end of the universe? consider damnation your invitation and price to get in at the door. leave your harps behind and give yourself up to the fiery rapture of the underworld to the decadent discords of damnation.
01 POWER | kanye west
02 FIERY CRASH | andrew bird
03 TIL THE WORLD ENDS (REMIX) | britney spears
04 WORLD WIDE SUICIDE | pearl jam
05 I WAS BORN ABOUT 10000 YEARS AGO | elvis presley
06 SEVEN NATION ARMY (GLITCH MOB REMIX) | the white stripes
07 MR BRIGHTSIDE | the killers
08 ELECTRIC CHAPEL | lady gaga
09 REBEL PRINCE | rufus wainwright
10 SINISTER KID | the black keys
11 UPRISING | muse
12 BLACK MIRROR | arcade fire
13 WRATH OF GOD | crystal castles
14 THIS AIN’T NO HYMN | saint saviour
15 CREATOR | santigold
16 HERESY | nine inch nails
17 ARMAGEDDON DAYS ARE HERE (AGAIN) | the the
18 NEW MYTH | lia ices
19 REV 22:20 | puscifer
20 BABY, I’M AN ANARCHIST! | against me
21 EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD | tears for fears
22 THE RIOT’S GONE | santigold
So here’s the plan, we give all the angels Redbull
“I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”
It’s not supposed to hold two full grown men; but, then, few things are. Dean watches as Castiel lowers himself into the tub. He hisses – just once, wearily – submerging himself in the water, ass to waist, his long calves rising from the water, knees bumping uncomfortably with Dean’s. Dean looks at him.
“This was a stupid idea.” He says conversationally, and Castiel looks down at himself – at the water – and snorts gently.
“It was.” But he makes no move to get out; he spreads his arms out over the rim of the bath, and leans his head back, eyes closed. His legs tangle more firmly with Dean’s as his muscles loosen; as he sinks, like no inhuman thing should be able, blissful into the water. He tips his head towards the ceiling; Dean, crushed to one end of the tub, his legs pulled up to his chest, is squashed, but content to look at him. Castiel tilts his head down, again, and looks at him. “Are you okay?”
Dean shuffles uncomfortably, the water swishing around his waist. “Told you it was stupid. We don’t fit.” Castiel makes a noise – half assent, half pure laziness – Dean nudges him with his foot. “Turn around.”
Castiel lifts his head, and looks at him dully – eyes half-lidded, expression half-blank – then acquiesces. He braces his hands on the sides of the bath, and lifts himself up; he crouches in the bath, and turns. It’s awkward – he steps on Dean’s ankle a couple of times – but he gets there, eventually, and sits in the back with his legs loosely folded in front of him, hands between them, his back inches from Dean’s chest. Dean shuffles forward, in the water, and presses his chin against his shoulder. He lifts a hand, and with his palm, spans the length of Castiel’s back. He wraps his other arm around his waist. Castiel sighs a little, like he’s being silly, but leans back against him nonetheless.
Dean’s got a secret.
He could fall asleep here, like this. The close-the-gates-of-hell thing is still going; Sam is still sick, Cas isn’t quite healed. A jagged scar still runs across Castiel’s abdomen, still red; still painful, though Castiel says little about it, either way.
Dean sighs damply against the round of Castiel’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, and he can hear the water moving around, can feel the steam from the bathwater on his face, thick and muggy. Every inch of him feels as if it’s been loosened, as if it’s just that little bit more open. It’s the steam, he’d say, but he’s been feeling like this for the last couple of weeks; not just the couple of minutes it took them to run the water, to undress, to get in.
Dean’s got a secret.
Dean believes in love.
It’s shameful. Stupider than trying to fit the two of them comfortably into a bathtub five foot long. But, like most secrets, there’s not a lot he can do about it. Dean believes in love, in its power; believes in fate, in the ability for two people (or more) to love each other so much that it crosses boundaries, changes destinies. That it can push back the ocean, or blot out the sun.
He’s a fucking idiot. He knows that. Based on the evidence, it’s a wonder he believes in anything, let alone love, like he’s a fucking Disney character; a clumsy terrier, a misfit toy. Even Sam might look at him funny, if he knew.
Castiel moves his hands from beneath the water, and peels Dean’s hand away from his chest. He links their fingers together.
“I love you so much.” He says, and lifts Dean’s hand to his mouth; kisses his wrist.
Dean chokes against his skin, helplessly, and he feels Castiel’s laughter before he hears it.
“Yeah, well.” He murmurs, voice strained. He moves his legs; they bracket Castiel’s hips. He hooks his ankles with Cas’ own.
He hasn’t said the words, yet. He can’t. But he believes in it;keeps this secret sewn inside him, an extra thing to hum inside his chest. He hopes that like this – pressed flush against Castiel’s back, their hands entwined – Castiel can feel it. He hopes he knows.
i was feeling nostalgic for 7th grade and scene days and listening to pop punk bands whose tee shirts i could buy at hot topic (and secretly listening to hannah montana sometimes even though i’d never openly admit it)
COME SAY THAT TO MY FACE OFF-ANON, ANON.
no ur the q t
and you’re left with nothing.
au where gatsby and nick get married and gatsby’s vows are all addressed to old sport and when the preacher asks if he takes nicholas carraway to be his lawfully wedded husband, gatsby just stands there in confusion for a few minutes and eventually confesses that he has no idea who nicholas carraway is he’s here to marry old sport
so this happened today:
and it’s weirding me out so promo time!
rules:
- you have one hour or maybe two depending on when i get back on
- reblogs only, likes will be ignored
- depending on how many reblog i’ll do a few lists w/faves bolded, maybe some screenshots, a few solos
- fandom blogs only
- mbf me!
sam mishcollyns
is a monster
