#i’ll still call him gay cuz its easier but

[teisubrainrot]

daigo-sexual

[fiveisnumber1]

The idea of Klaus helping the H8 with history reports never crossed my mind and now all I can think of is the H8 turning up randomly in front of Klaus with The Expression™ cuz they need to fulfill their semester's history credit or research some guy for their actual courses but combing through academic records takes too long and they're tired undergrads and just want to get it over with. Talking to ghosts is just easier. Klaus can instantly tell what they want and he wants to deny them but also can't cuz they're looking at him so pleadingly and Ben is nagging encouraging him to help too and they promise him stuff which he technically can get on his own but Allison's keeping a strict check on his finances (and he isn't completely irresponsible either, he doesn't WANT to blow all his inheritance on drugs) so helping the kids with their history reports is easy money.

There are mixed results however because history as we know it is not necessarily history as it exists and the H8 find themselves in a pickle if their reports deviate from actual research.

Addison: And so X person laid the foundation of modern theater as we know it by combining these elements of opera to theater

Professor: That's a lovely presentation Ms Evans but it's actually Y person

Addison: No its X

Professor: How are you sure? The records only exist for Y

Addison: *silence cuz how can she tell the teacher she literally talked to all the long dead people involved in theater history*

Addison: *grumbling as she stares at her B grade later on* This is why I hate acting theory

And:

Professor *teaching*: And so Criminal A killed 20 people in the year 1933 alone while simultaneously running a drug cartel

Dean: thirty

Professor: What?

Dean: He killed 30 people that year. The rest were cold cases that were never cracked but it was definitely him

Professor: I'm gonna need to see some proof for that Mr Hernandez. *swiftly moving on* So as I was saying-

And:

Five: So Scientist N was working on this theory for quantum molecular thermodynamics and has been analyzed for decades

Reader: But it was actually Scientist M who made progress in it by changing his methods that went unrecorded

Professor *nursing a headache*: Mr Hargreeves, Ms L/N, once again may I remind you that you cannot present your own theories that are not backed by scientific journals as fact. You may work on them as your own individual thesis but you cannot present them as made up history without evidence.

Five: They are Not theories. They're FACT.

Professor: But the journals-

Reader: Are useless. I read the journals analyzing Scientist N's work when I was a child. None of them had anything useful on molecules.

Five: Or theoretical quantum mechanics

Reader: And we asked the scientists ourselves.

Five: They're disappointed at how dimwitted modern academics are

Just all the H8 presenting the truth to their class but it's taken as a lie because history doesn't remember things quite the way it actually was and cuz modern academics require peer-reviewed information as proof although a lot of that proof also exists outside of just academic circles.

I feel like at some point someone would snap. Like one of the H8 would just get so frustrated that they know the truth and no one is listening to them about it that they would snap and call Klaus. Like:

Professor: Mr. Wagner, I appreciate your presentation but you cannot just claim that these two historical medical figures were in a same-sex relationship with each other. You need solid evidence for such a statement.

Kenny: You know what, I’m done. You want proof? I’ll get you proof. [pulls out phone and calls Klaus]

*five minutes later*

Klaus: I’m here. This better be important Allison, Vanya, and I were about to have tacos.

Kenny: I don’t know how you got here so fast but I’m glad you did. [turning to professor] get ready for your proof sir. This is Klaus Hargreeves or if you recall the seance from the Umbrella Academy. He can conjure up ghosts of people who have passed. Klaus, do your thing.

Klaus: I still get $20 bucks right?

Kenny: Yes. Just show them.

Klaus: [onjures up historical figures A and B]

Kenny: Hi again. We’re you two gay?

Historical Figure A: Why, yes.

Historial figure B: Of course, we have been together for many years in both our living lives and after our deaths.

Kenny: [turning to the professor] How’s that for proof?

[stillwooozy]

well my mom is having heart surgery, or idk a stent put in her heart - isnt that heart survery? Anyways shes getting better so thats good.

Ive been playing chess w/ my dad but my 10 yr old brother can beat us both so my dad isnt pissed at me anymore. He lost to my brother so he yelled at HIM for “having an attitude” and i felt bad. sore loser much? I’m competitive as hell, but only for things i know im objectively good at. He admits he isnt good at chess. I’m kinda surprised cuz ngl my dad is smart and my 10 yr old brother is..... 10. But i guess my dads intellect manifests as writing ability and my brother is advanced in math sooo... maybe chess = math? Idk. They are still forced to quaratine cuz they have covid, i doubt i’ll get it but i’ll get tested when they do again. My dogs are going crazy cuz i cant take them to the park.

My mom will come home in a few days. I’m actually excited/relieved. Usually i dread seeing her cuz she always finds something to critize me about but now im just happy she isnt dead. Haha hashtag-compassion. Shes on a bunch of drugs but shes off a venilator and sounds okay. she tested negative for covid so shes done with that im pretty sure. Shes getting a stent put in. I tried to talk to a doctor cuz she was being vague but he wouldnt tell me anything and im like :/ i get it but... i wish they would make my life easier, im the last person who should act as a husband/parent figure but here i am. My dad is pissing me off - if he cant control a situation he gets angry & ignores it. Straight up. I WISH i could do that but i have a guilty complex instilled by my very own mother.

One of my brothers i watching attack on titan so thats pretty interesting. he’s 12 and i was like... um isnt that too young? But i was 13 when i watched it so i guess not

My mom told me if i picked up her meds after i pick her up from the hospital she’ll give me half her painkillers and was like “but dont OD”. I mean im not going to turn them down. Me - turning down tramadol? What reality would that be. she’s a weird woman. I feel bad for her, she blames everyone else for her problems including me but ik she loves me. even if she hates part of me at the same time. A part of me is convinced that ill die by drugs if i never manage to kick the habit but i’d also feel really bad knowing she’d blame herself. I mean its almost comedic how dysfunctional my family is. She goes full Karen begging for opioids, then gives her mentally ill son half the pills as a reward. hey - positive reinforcement i guess? Good for her. Dont hit ur kids - just give them drugs when they are being a good little boy.

I think i’ll watch AoT w/ my brother. Hes the sibling i probably ignore most. him and my 10 yr old brother. I like my 6 yr old brother and my 19 yr old sister. I mean i love all my siblings but come on..... 9-15 yr old boys are batshit. i say this from personal experience.

I asked him if he liked Eren x Mikasa cuz idk. Isnt that what most basic shonen preteen boys are into? I forced myself to read eremika hentai when i was about his age. He’s a nice jewish boy too, so 50/50 chance he has an east asian fetish. You want to know his reply??? “No I don’t see anyone as a couple they all seem gay to me - no offense”. None taken brother ... i have to agree

i was flirting w/ 2 girls on tinder - no worries im not going to spread covid i promise - and i’ve come to the realization that....... why do most “alt” girls SAY they want a bi boy to “peg” but...... get uncomfortable when that bi twink actually gets fucked by men. like what??????? they just want a boy who wears flowery blouses and eyeshadow. sorry hun i’m not that person. I look like mac demarco if he was a twink in the worst way possible. I hate this trend cuz its insincere or maybe im just self concious cuz im gross. its just....... u cant ask for a bi bf...... but not really want them to ever have fucked a man????????? Grindr is disgusting but damn tinder girls are judgemental. I look like david dobrick if he was gay & mentally ill - what do u expect of me? I just miss my ex. She was unusal and im just fully appreciating that. She was the only person (beside my ex who pulled a lil peep before it was cool) who matched my type of crazy. Unfortunately 2 crazy ppl can’t last long.

To clarify i dont tell ppl, i never will, that she was “my crazy gf” or “crazy ex”. I dont mean it as a fully bad thing - i mean im the one on antipsychs (she was on lithium.. what a romance amiright). I miss her so badly. I think about texting or calling her everyday. Honestly idk if she would answer. Maybe she has moved on. We both have a minimal (public) social media presence so i cant stalk her online. she just posts memes & social justice stuff on her sc. she didnt block me from any platform. I pretend she found this blog and can stalk me & i hope she feels bad for me - pathetic right? It wasnt even a bad breakup. We were never on the “same page”, not that type of couple or chemistry, but we enjoyed being together and i miss that cuz atm i have no one but my mentally ill family. jk my siblings are surprisingly sane. I mean the younger ones have time.

[letsprayitwritesitself]

cut you a piece

(warning for fic and song: mention of character death and car accident)

Davey never beat him home. And they never forgot to switch the light off. So when Jack got home from the studio to see a thin sliver of light escaping under their door, his stomach sank and he had to take a minute or so to prepare himself before going back into the apartment he shared with the love of his life.

He held his keys in his pocket, rested his forehead on the door, and let out a long, quiet, sigh.

Rewind to that morning. 8am. It was Monday, and both of their first days back after the accident. Any day would have felt too soon, they knew that, but that morning, trying to return to the actions they'd been able to do so unconsciously just a couple of weeks before - Davey's alarm waking them both up, Jack hitting the shower while Davey made them both coffee, then Jack making breakfast while Davey showered and the coffee cooled - seemed impossible. Today Davey had almost managed the coffee, dedicating himself as much as he could to at least the motions of normalcy, albeit adapting them a little to include standing at the sink staring out the window for five minutes while the water ran over his coffee cup until Jack, warm and damp and solid, usually Davey's favourite vision in a white fluffy towel, came up behind him, kissed him lightly on the back of his neck, turned off the tap and whispered to Davey not to worry about it.

Out of the shower Davey returned to the kitchen where one plate of toast sat on the table between two cups of coffee.

'I really can't eat anything,' Jack confessed as Davey sat down, gripping the still too hot coffee cup tight. Davey nodded, knowing that if he tried to force any food down past the lump in his throat into his constantly twisted stomach, he'd probably throw up.

They ran through their days - Jack out at a couple of shoots that morning before an afternoon spent developing prints, and then maybe picking up some food for the two of them that evening. Davey the usual, work at the paper from eight thirty til six, home by six thirty, hopefully. Almost back to normal.

Because they had even managed to laugh that weekend, something that had once been unthinkable. It was at a dumb inside joke that had surprised them both. That had happened a couple of times since Spot's funeral, only a couple, and each time they were struck silently horrified and ripped apart by guilt at the idea that they could fathom lightheartedness in such a time.

'He would be glad that we're able to laugh,' Jack had murmured into the darkness where they lay next to each other, chasing sleep the night before.

'He would say that he'd be angry. If he knew what was going to happen he'd say... y'know. If you guys don't cry for weeks or whatever I'll haunt the fuck out of you.'

'I know he would. But you know that he wouldn't mean a word of it. And if it had happened to - to anyone else, he'd... not make 'em laugh, let's not go crazy, but... he'd tell them that however they felt, however long it had or hadn't been after the thing - the way they felt was exactly okay. Including finding laughter in the weeks afterwards. Can't predict this, can we? Any of it.' And Davey had nodded then let out a huge deep shuddering sob, staying quiet and shaking against where Jack now held him to his chest. 

Clearly things weren't quite back to how they were before, and obviously could never be. It might get easier, but it may not ever go away. The air was still full of enough grief to make them choke if they thought about the wrong thing, but it was a pollution they were finding incrementally easier to navigate each day.

So back to work, because compassionate leave only stretched so far. Jack, a photographer, had cancelled a couple of weeks of shoots, but the paid gigs wouldn't always wait for him, and at least through his camera lens he had control of what happened. Davey, a section editor at a local magazine, at least had paid leave, but also a team of people to instruct, and about eighteen separate deadlines looming. He had fired off the odd work email but he could tell that his colleagues initially impassioned "Don't worry about us until you feel better" replies were getting sparser and less emotive, and after too long a boss who was going through a terrible time just became something of a nuisance, and he didn't need that guilt on top of everything else.

Still, he did not want to go in.

They sat silent, opposite one another, and Davey felt conflicted in needing to reach out and hold Jack, but knowing that if Jack so much as glanced at him kindly, he'd implode.

'Right.' He pushed the cup away. 'I guess I need to - go.' He stood up, heading over to the front door in a trance, and Jack followed, handing Davey his bag and pulling him in by the lapels of his coat.

'I'll see you tonight.'

'See you tonight.'

'I love you.'

'I love you too -' He punctuated his reply by grabbing Jack in a hug, hiding his face in his neck. Jack brought a hand up to the back of Davey's head, holding him there, stroking his hair, waiting.

The night before, Davey had continued their conversation with 'The thing is... I'm - I'm almost reluctant to let go of the pain. Do you know what I mean? It hurts, and I feel it every second, and I can't focus on anything else, but when it starts to go... am I losing him all over again?'

'He's not there in that pain, babe, you know that. He's in your head, your memories. Your inside jokes.' Jack had stammered out the words into the top of Davey's head, almost inclined as per usual to agree with his boyfriend's infallible if depressing logic.

'How do you always know what to say?' Davey rolled to the side so he could look at Jack, and as Jack answered he wiped the tears from under Davey's eyes with a fingertip.

'Learned it from you, didn't I?' He rested his hand on Davey's cheek. 'Dave. Please, if you want to laugh, don't push it down cuz you think that's what you need to do. Spot won't mind! You... You light up the whole room when you laugh. And we could use that.'

Back in the hall the next morning Davey stepped out of the hug, shaking his head, clearing his throat. 'Jeez. Not even out the door yet! Swear to god, if anyone at work is any nicer than normal I'll have a fucking... emotional breakdown or something.'

'If what you've told me about them is right then I'm sure you got nothing to worry about.' Jack wrapped a scarf round Davey's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 'See you tonight.'

'Bye.'

So it wasn't that he didn't want to see Davey. Coming home to their place, their tiny one-bed with its beautiful ugly wallpaper and constant familiar smell of paint and laundry detergent - the tiny hallway and its side table where they kept keys, mail, all the little bits of shit that Davey wrote and Jack drew throughout the day, a safe place for the little things that meant everything - coming home to this apartment was a daily reminder of how lucky they both were, and how much they had going for them. If Jack had had a bad day, heck, even if they were fighting, this sanctuary had always been an instant comfort.

And then Spot died.

And all the good leaked out of the world.

Because up until that point... Everything had been going great. And not even the uncomfortable kind of great where they were sort of waiting for something to go wrong. Just. Good. When they got the call on a crisp Saturday afternoon in January, Jack and Davey had been at the movies doing all the awful couple stuff, holding hands, whispering in each other's ears, making out in the back row. They emerged squinting into the daylight to dozens of missed calls between them. Unease settling over him, Davey had called Skittery back, unconsciously reaching out for Jack's hand as he was delivered the news of Spot in a cab plus a drunk driver and really not much time at all before complete unresponsiveness. 

The question of how Race was doing was too huge to contemplate.  

His suffuse underlying happiness was always clear in the months leading up to the accident, because even though he and Spot barely called each other anything - boyfriends, partners, whatever - they were inextricably bound, no question. In the bar not too long after it happened Race had muttered to Jack that 'I didn't know if we were ever gonna... You know. Marriage, whatever. He's probably watching me say this now and cringing at me for acting so gay. But like. It was never any question whether or not we were in it for life. He was my person. Still is.'

The hardest part, then, was figuring out how they were supposed to keep going, how the world was just going to keep spinning despite the fact that something like this had happened. It wasn't ideal, hanging out in their apartment the whole time, letting themselves do nothing but think about Spot and how god damn unfair it was, but any time they attempted something else it would without fail end up in them reverting to that. Davey sitting in front of the washing machine, three folded t-shirts in his lap, one half done in his hands, himself totally lost in staring into the void of the drum trying to remember the last words he and Spot said to each other. Jack standing at the counter, one hand on the vegetable peeler and the other on a carrot, his attention utterly stolen by the contemplation of who was going to use Spot's Rangers tickets and why couldn't Spot have just fucking stayed alive. Time had helped, as it does, and let them relearn slowly how to keep living, but neither of them had lost a friend before. Grandparents, pets, sure. But wasn't a twenty three year old meant to be indestructible? How were they meant to go on?

The resistance Jack was feeling as he stood outside their door, both of them had felt when it came to Race. They knew as they visited him that they were walking in on someone whose very existence was in turmoil, and whose devastation underlay even his most innocuous chat, but they also knew that Race and Spot were a pair, so why the fuck was Race on his own. But they had to, so they did, and it had allowed them to start to shakily discover this new normal together - not being scared to smile for fear they weren't mourning enough, because they all knew too god damn well that they were all carrying black holes inside. 

Yet, two weeks against the life of Spot Conlon was nothing

Jack opened the door slowly and entered the apartment. Davey's bag sat abandoned by the couch, his coat slung over the back. The lamp in the hall was the only light on, and through its hushed glow Jack could see that their bedroom door was ajar. He walked through.

The dim glow of the moon outside their window let him see that Davey lay face down on the bed, head resting on folded arms. His shoes were still on.

'Dave.' He had no idea how long he'd been there so muted his voice, not keen on scaring him. He took a couple of steps towards the bed, trying to figure out if his love was asleep, or didn't hear, or was ignoring him. When he reached the foot of the bed he pulled Davey's shoes off for him, dropping them on the floor and climbing on the bed, steadying himself with a gentle hand on Davey's thigh. 

'Davey.'

He lay down on his side, head propped up on one hand, the other reaching out to rub Davey's back. Finally, finally Davey moved, shifting slowly back into Jack's embrace so Jack's chest was flush and warm against his back, Jack's arm effortlessly circling round to find his hand and clasp it against his heart.

'I'm. I'm broken.'

Jack squeezed him close, nuzzling his nose into the mess of hair at the back of Davey's head.

'You're not.'

'I can't do anything.'

'You can, Dave. You did.'

'I didn't. I left.'

'When?'

'Four.'

'That doesn't count! That's not leaving, Dave, that's...'

'Leaving?'

'What happened?'

'I was... fine. Kind of. If I focused really hard. I thought... If I acted normally, they'd treat me normally.'

'Did they?'

'Yeah. And no. Some of them seemed to think... that I'd been on vacation.' He cleared his throat, voice trembling a little. 'That I'd used the Spot thing to - you know? But I thought - like, it's fine. I don't care, let them think whatever. But then Oscar, that guy - seemed to have saved up all his energy from the last two weeks, and at about three forty five just lay it all on me. Really kind of - stuff he didn't need to say. About how he stepped up while I was gone. What needed to be done today. How at first I'd let them down by disappearing but um... How they'd ultimately been fine. Started listing all this stuff that he would have taken care of, he said, but wasn't senior enough, talking and talking, slamming pieces of paper on my desk, and I - left. While he was talking.'

'You left?'

'Yeah.' 

‘While he was talking?’

‘Yeah...’

'Babe, I'm so proud of you!'

'It was - fuck, so cowardly.'

'No, shut up. Tell me more.'

'I just. I couldn't physically face another second of his shit. Jack, I think I need help. Professional help.'

'We can find some.'

'I can't find meaning in anything outside of this apartment. I can't, and I don't think that's how I'm supposed to be.'

'Look, the Spot thing - it really puts everything in perspective, right? I am so so proud of you for being a big shot editor, but all that shit. It's not important if you don't want it to be.'

'That's it. I just looked at him and I kind of - like... he has no idea. And I didn't feel like explaining.'

'You don't have to.'

'I know.' Davey sniffed and kissed the back of Jack's hand before shifting round to face him. 'Shit. How was your day?'

'It was a day. It was fine. I got a little wavy when - I was doing this headshot session uptown and we passed a building that almost kinda looked like where Spot used to live which, it turns out, is enough to get me going. But it was... Fine.' He ran a fingertip down Davey's cheek, over his lips, off his chin, surveying the sullen, pale skin of his face. 'It's gonna get a little easier every day. But we need to get through the shit ones first.'

'I love you, Jack.'

'Love you too, kid.' He kissed Davey on the forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips, slow and quiet and long. 'What do you wanna do now?'

'I wanna... Say one more thing. If that's okay. Then we can stop lying here in the dark.'

'Of course it's okay.'

'It sounds so, so selfish, when I try and say it out loud. But I've been thinking that however I feel now, and in the near future, and fuck it, even the distant future - it's never ever going to feel right. I'm always going to find something wrong with how I react. So then if everything is wrong anyway, can I just do what feels right at the time?'

'Yeah. Yes, of course, Dave.'

'Because - this isn't about us, this whole sorry situation, it's not ours - but it is. Because I love you. Because I realised since Spot went, that you... are... a part of me. Whenever you leave the house, or you're at work late, or even in the bathroom when we're at a restaurant - I feel you gone. Inside. I cut you a piece of me. And when I'm with you, even lying here, touching you, I'm terrified that I could lose you, in a year, or in ten years, or in sixty. I never thought that you could be half a person until I found you, and found the rest of me. And it would be easier not to think that, but here we are.' 

He cupped Jack's cheek with a shaky hand, wiping away the tears that had started rolling down Jack's face with the pad of his thumb, before continuing:

'When I was at work today, and all that meaningless shit was happening right in front of me - all I could think about was how I hoped you knew. I know tomorrow or the next half hour or whatever isn't guaranteed. And I feel like I'm never going to find the right time to do this, not so soon after Spot dying, but then - it's how I feel, so I just need to say it, because its what's important right now - fuck. Jack, will you marry me?' 

Jack's eyes widened momentarily, then scrunched shut as he bit his lip and fought back moretears. He nodded frantically, covering Davey's hand with his and leaning in so their foreheads rested against each other.

'We don't have to tell anyone just yet - and maybe we shouldn't - but I just think - I need you to know, that - you're everything. Jack, you're everything -' His words were muffled as Jack pulled him in for a searing kiss, and he laughed into Jack's mouth, surprisingly, horribly giddy, but riding it this time rather than trying to send it away. 

'Of course I'll marry you, Dave, god - I'll marry you tomorrow, or yesterday, fuckin - get our marriage back dated to the day we met. God damn it. I love you.' 

'I don't have a ring.' He was crying too now, of course, but full of a soaring joy, and overwhelming sorrow, and sheer love and affection and god, he was so glad he could lay all his broken parts out for Jack to see. 'Or champagne. Or anything, I just thought - words. As long as you know. And we can do the rest later.'

'Later.' Jack nodded, stroking a fingertip over the last joint of Davey's ring finger. 'I'll give you the whole rest of my life, Dave. We've got forever.'

[the-real-anywolf]

Choose Your Own Ending

Alright, so for shits and gigs Any and I started texting as Dean and Cas while I was crazy white girl wasted. And Any thought let's post it on our blog and get our readers to write the narrative of what happens next. So let's do this! Reblog this craziness with your narrative, and we’ll reblog it with the corresponding texts between Dean and Cas after your narrative. So on and so forth. No word length requirement or anything, let's choose your own ending this bitch!

Cas: Hello Dean, I heard you are drunk. Do you need assistance to get home to the bunker?

Dean: Nah cas man I'm still drinking but thanks fir pretty texting me. 

You should vine drunk text with me? 

Come not vine 

Fuck you autocorrect you were supposed to have my back l!!

Cas: I'm confused. You want me to come or you want to text me while inebriated?

Dean: Lolol come drink with me cas! 

I'm at a place called bam bam's im peeyyy sure it's a gay bar 

Like all the couples are two dudes or two chicks 

Why do people hate gay people I mean it doesn't make sense

Cas: Humans have always been inclined to fear what they don't understand. Other humans are brave though and decide to love instead of hate. The nice voice on my phone says I can be with you in thirty minutes.

Dean: You're the fucking best man I ever tell you that? The fucking best

Cas: Thank you, Dean. Although I'm not sure why you said that.

Dean: Cuz you deserve yo hear it cas I don't tell you enough 

Oh man a guy asked my drunk ass to dance lol

Cas: What guy?

Dean: No idea some guy. Might have said yes if I wasn't there sheets to the fucking wind I don't think I could stand if I tried

Cas: I see. I thought you're only interested in women.

Dean: Supposed to be but can you keep a secret

Cas: Of course.

Dean: I think dudes are hot too I think about it sometimes 

What it would be like to fuck a guy

Cas: Is that something you want to try at some point?

Dean: I don't know it scares me too

Cas: Why does it scare you?

Dean: Not supposed to

Cas: It sounds like you don't apply the same rules you have for others to yourself

Dean: Right? It's okay for others but I can't because you gotta be tough Dean. Big boys don't cry over scraping their goddamn knees. Quit your crying. You know who cries? Babies. Shut up Dean men are supposed to be men not girls. 

After so many years of that cas I kinda hate that the bigoted words of a dead man still makes me a terrified child

Cas: But you aren't a child anymore, Dean. You are a man that makes his own decisions, has his own life. You are brave and strong and you saved the world a few times. You should do what feels right in your heart. You should do things that makes you happy because there is no one in the world, who I believe, deserves it more than you do, Dean.

Dean: I deserve to get my sick sucked by a blue eyed twink? lol Dick not sick lol

Cas: I only understood half of that, but sure – you should do whatever makes you happy. 

What is a twink?

Dean: I was laughing that you casicslly implied that I deserve to have sex with a dude 

A twink is a like younger dude, smaller frame, at least if you go by queer as folk 

Don't tell Sammy I've watched it

Cas: Of course I won't tell him. So you like men who are smaller than you with blue eyes?

Dean: Maybe

Cas: What else do you find attractive?

Dean: I like nice lips

Cas: Aren't all lips nice?

Dean: Nah man some are like thin and not soft 

Nice lips means better kissers usually 

You have nice lips You probably are really good at kissing

Cas: I don't know. I lack the experience. But thank you. 

I think you have nice lips, too.

Dean: Some people are naturally good at it 

And thanks. Been told a time or two I know my way around a French kiss

Cas: How can a kiss be french?

Dean: Lolol sometimes I forget you're an angel 

It's when you use you tongue when you kiss

Cas: I wasn't aware there was an expression for that. Kissing is nice.

Dean: Right? I mean if I had to choose between kissing and sex I'd seriously contemplate it for a minute before choosing sex lolol

Cas: Good that you never have to choose. You can always have both. I would like to experience that again. 

Preferably without being tortured and stabbed to death afterwards.

Dean: Fuck man yeah sex is supposed to not end in death usually 

You haven't fucked anyone since that bitch?

Cas: No. To be honest I lost interest in it after that experience.

Dean: I'm not surprised but I promise normal sex ends good usually

Cas: I'm not good at this, getting to know people. And I don't want to do it with someone I don't know. And since I'm not human. It's not ideal.

Dean: I get that. Anyone you do actually know you want to do it with?

Cas: Yes. But that person isn't an option.

Dean: Why not?

Cas: Because I don't want to do anything that could risk the friendship I have with that person. I can't lose them. It's not an option.

Dean: I get that man, sex fucks shit up 

That's why I don't fuck people I actually care about 

Not anymore

Cas: It's probably a wise decision. It would make it so much worse to lose that person, once you would know how nice it is to be with them. So now you see why I can't have sexual intercourse with anyone. I don't want to do it with someone I don't know. But I'm also not brave enough to do it with someone I have feelings for.

Dean: Man that's fucked cas but I get it 

I had a sex dream about you once 

Fuck man I must be drunk telling you shit like that 

Sorry ignore me 

How far out are you now

Cas: Ten minutes. Don't worry, Dean. I'm aware that dreams are nothing humans have control over. I know it doesn't mean anything.

Dean: I've thought about it but like I said, I care about you so no sex for us 

Which sucks cuz I bet you're fucking good in the sack too 

Fuck tell me to stop texting you

Cas: Does that mean you would have sex with me if you didn't care about me?

Dean: Weird huh? Maybe if I ever got the balls to pick up a guy? If you and I didn't know each other, yeah. I'd probably hit on you

Cas: I would have let you.

Dean: You said you wouldn't bang someone you don't know lol

Cas: If you and I didn't know each other, I'm sure I would be a different person today. And you were always the only person who I would make an exception for.

Dean: Would work wouldn't it? You could get laid with me since you won't hook up with who you have a thing for. I'd get to see if I even like it. Too bad we're friends huh?

Cas: Yes. It's too bad. Five minutes.

Dean: Well if you ever change your mind 

Fuck it right? 

You only live once? Well, more than that for us

Cas: I thought you wouldn't have sex with someone you cared for?

Dean: I shouldn't Doesn't mean I don't want to

Cas: I understand that feeling more than you think. But Dean, you're not an option for me.

Dean: Yeah I am! You know me!

Cas: Yes, I do. But listen to me, Dean. You are not an option.

Dean: Sorry man I'm assuming you'd find me attractive you probably don't lol

Cas: You're infuriatingly dense when you're inebriated. 

Don't make me say it, Dean.

Dean: Why you scared cas? Am I the person you don't want to lose friendship to

Cas: Yes.

Dean: If we just had sex who's to say we'd stop being friends 

We kept it casual then there'd be no loss of friendship

Cas: It wouldn't be casual for me.

Dean: Alright then

Cas: I'm sorry. I never wanted to tell you this.

Dean: It's fine cas. I don't get it but it's fine

Cas: I have feelings for you.

Dean: No I mean I got that. I don't get why you do

Cas: You really have to ask, after everything we've been through together? After everything you've done for me? After all the times you saved me, opened my eyes, taught me how to live?

Dean: Cas I'm the worst person you could develop feelings for 

For all those good things I've done just as many bad things

Cas: Dean, I can't change the way I feel and no matter how you see yourself and how much guilt you carry on your shoulders, it won't change the way I see you. I'm in the parking lot. I hope you still want me as your friend, knowing this. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I'm not expecting anything. I never did.

Dean: You're my best friend that won't ever change. Get your ass in here and let's drink till we can't feel feelings anymore

Cas: I’ll be there in a minute.

Dean: I'm at the bar.

(Five minutes later)

Dean: Cas you bailing?

Cas: I don’t know. I can’t seem to leave the car.

Dean: I'm not gonna bite you

Cas: I’m not afraid of you biting me, Dean.

Dean: What are you scared of then?

Cas: I’m not sure. Mostly of myself. It’s hard to explain.

Dean: Want me to come to you?

Cas: I’m indecisive. Talking like this is somehow easier.

Dean: Right? I'm way more honest in texts And when I'm ducked up

Cas: I’m afraid when I see you now that I would do something stupid.

Dean: That's what alcohols for Let's not think about that shit 

Come have a shot with me and I'll dare you to buy a drink for someone and you'll just do it to shut me up but then you'll laugh and take more shots

Cas: My grace isn’t at its best at the moment. I could get intoxicated, too.

Dean: Hell yeah even better 

Let's get stupid and then you'll not feel as weird about telling me 

You're a hilarious drunk

Cas: What if I try to kiss you? People do stupid things when they are intoxicated.

Dean: You've never tried to kiss me before. And fuck it if you do

Cas: I intended to drive you home. I can’t do that when I’m inebriated, too. How would we get home?

Dean: There's a motel a block over well just grab a room for the night. Get your ass in here

Cas: Alright.

[thelifetimechannel]

[stitchcasual]

A Meme-y Thing

I was tagged by @probably-a-synth ~:D

Always post these rules!

Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

Write 11 questions of your own. Tag 11 people.

1. What is one movie from your childhood or young adulthood that has really stuck with you to this day?

Uh, so, this is weird, but Wing Commander. It’s this really ridiculous sci-fi movie with Freddie Prinze Jr (probably where my love affair with him started cuz Vega and Bull, dAMN) and Matthew Lillard and our man FPJ is descended from a group of space explorers who were like, really good at exploring space but people don’t like them, there was a whole war etc. Anyway, there’s a big bad thread and FPJ and ML are transferred to this warship as replacement pilots and they meet the rockinest lady pilots (seriously, if you don’t crush on at least one of them, there might be something wrong) and have love affairs and win against the big bad (obvi) and Mark Hamill is a voice in it (but credited as ??? which I love).

My sister and I would watch this movie every summer as part of our vacation. It was a Thing.

2. What’s your favorite body part (yours and/or in general)?

Uh, does hair count? Because, like, dude, I have thing for hair. Short hair styled well, undercuts, cool dye jobs, undeRCUTS, lil buns, big buns, BRAIDS, just like, any hairstyle done with confidence and love, also undercuts *cough*

3. If you could live in any fictional universe, what would it be?

One I probably wouldn’t die in? I feel like the life expectancy in some of my favorite universes is preeeetty low, depending on who you are.

I’d probably choose the Mass Effect universe, cuz I really wanna be able to do that biotic charge and smash thing from ME3...like so bad

4. What is your Virtue/Vice from the Deadly Sins/Heavenly Virtues list?

Sin: Envy Virtue: Justice

5. What was your first major ship? If you don’t ship, what was your first fandom?

Man, I didn’t start shipping anything for a long time (in high school I had to have a weird conversation with a friend about what it meant because I didn’t understand her “I ship Mulder/Scully” forum signature). The first ship I started reading fic for was Steve/Bucky; first major ship, like it means a whole bunch to me, would probably be Thane/Shepard.

6. If you could hang out with a character from a TV show for one day, who would you hang out with and what would you do?

I think I’ll go with Eliot Spencer (Leverage) and not solely for the reason that Parker and Hardison would show up at some point during the day. BUT I also think that Eliot would be a good self-care buddy? Like he’d grumble about it, but would totally get mani/pedis and watch trash movies while eating popcorn and gossiping.

7. If you could get a tattoo RIGHT NOW, what would it be?

If money was no issue etcetc, I would get my back piece. I have this vision (and really that’s all it is and it probably won’t ever materialize) of a full back piece of a tiger clawing its way out of my back, skin flayed by the claws, all photorealistic. *sigh* yeah, it’s my pipe dream.

If money was still an issue, I’d get my Hufflepuff badger. That’s the first one I plan on getting anyway, down on the side of my calf-ankle-leg bit.

8. You just got the ability to time travel/teleport. Where and when do you go?

To visit all of youuuuu! I could show up at @hatandsandalsguy‘s for scones and yarn, hit up the UK with @hollyand-writes, get coffee with @gothic-princess-witch, hang out with my sister.

Also, it would make it so much easier to finish TV shows if I could just keep time travelling backward so that time didn’t move forward but I still watched all of the show....

9. What’s your Aesthetic™?

Uuuuh, I don’t think I have one. Unless Not Skirts counts? Because apparently whenever I wear one, people wig out a little because it’s Not Me and they’re Surprised. I’m very slowly working toward Gay Androgyny though, and I’m looking forward to that.

10. Do you believe in magic?

Kind of? I believe in an energy around us, so it’s not a stretch to think people could so something with it. But magic as it appears in Harry Potter or Dragon Age? Nah.

11. What was your favorite childhood toy/comfort object?

So I had/have these little blankets that are literally a square of material that’s been hemmed and I think my grandma made them when I was a baby, so I’ve had them my entire life and do not ask me why, but I call them me-mes (literally “me” like the other form of I). I dragged them everywhere. Still have them (though I lost the ones that had lil blue corns on them, alas. All I have left are the plain yellow.). 

There was also Big Teddy (that was his name) and he was bigger than I was for a while there. I don’t know where he got off to :/

My 11 Questions for Y’all

1. Who do you look up to the most? 2. What is your favorite passage of literature? 3. Star Wars or Star Trek? 4. What is your favorite thing that makes other people go “whaaat?” 5. What do you bring to a potluck? 6. What is your favorite food for a dark and stormy night? 7. What is your beverage of choice? 8. What’s your most ridiculous memory from childhood? 9. What Thing that you do/have done are you the most proud of? 10. What’s your favorite holiday? 11. If you knew your expiration date was 3/1/2017, what would you do with the rest of your February?

and I’m taggin’ the following people should they choose to do the thing: @hollyand-writes, @gothic-princess-witch, @theoxfordcommando, @erandir, @vaticanvice, @gooseandcaboose, @batfacesalad, @tinyowlbear, and the rest of you