#so yeah. angry and cranky and bitchy it is

[moonchild-in-blue]

This is me today. I am angry and cranky and in need to commit acts of violence.

if anyone is mean to me i will cry

[pollenallergie]

Eddisms

The much more aptly named sequel to “Eddie-isms”

As always these hc are miscellaneous and not in any particular order. Enjoy!

best friend!Eddie masterlist

reblogs are most appreciated!! :)

taglist: @gaysludge @heavymetalbabyy @luvrsbian @munsonology @tayhar811 @stolen-in-moonlight

Eddie is so insufferably loud in every single thing he does. It’s honestly a mystery how he managed to sneak up on Chrissy because that man can be heard from miles away. He’s so heavy-footed when he walks that it rattles the trailer a little bit from time to time. Nothing about that man is deft or graceful. <3

He snores and I mean SNORES. He always has, even as a little kid. At first, his snoring scared the crap out of Wayne, but now it’s just sort of become background ambience for his uncle. Wayne almost finds it reassuring, in a way; at least Eddie’s breathing, right? <3

Despite what Dustin says, Eddie has a very short temper. Granted, it takes a lot for him to get truly angry, but it doesn’t take much at all to get him cranky. In fact, Eddie’s just as much of a mean girl as Steve. Though he lacks Harrington’s resting bitch face, he’s absolutely just as bitchy. <3

Eddie’s always been obsessed with cars, but not in the way you might think. He doesn’t really give a shit about the typical sports cars or anything like that, what he finds the most fascinating are the niche, funky-looking cars. Citicars, Firebirds, Scarabs, he loves ‘em all. He’s especially a fan of station wagons and vans, probably because those were the kind of cars your mom always drove. His favorite of all time has to be the 1948 Tasco because it combines his favorite types of cars; weird looking ones and vans. He won’t ever admit it to anyone but you and Wayne, but he also really likes pick-up trucks; specifically the old, somewhat worn ones like Wayne used to have. <3

Eddie definitely had race-car bed sheets growing up. Honestly, he still uses them in the winter because they’re a lot warmer than his usual sheets. <3

He asked Santa for a race-car bed for six years in a row. For his ninth birthday, he finally got one. Though it was a hand-me-down from your older brother, he loved it like it was brand new. <3

As kids, you and Eddie used to “rescue” (kidnap) wild turtles and beg your mom and Wayne to let you keep them. <3

When he was six, Eddie got kicked out of little league baseball for mooning the umpire. </3

Eddie doesn’t use 3-in-1 shampoo, he does something way worse. He uses Irish Spring on every square inch of his body; hair included. His scalp is practically pleading for death at this point. <3

Eddie doesn’t see the point in using lotion, so he simply doesn’t. The most he’ll do is use vaseline on his lips when they get all dry and cracked in the winter. <3

Eddie’s routine is so simplistic that it’s really not much of a routine at all and, yet, it takes him nearly an hour to get ready every morning. Does that at all make sense? No. Nothing about this man makes sense, he’s an enigma, a silly lil enigma. Well, not so much of an enigma… The reason it takes him so long to get ready is because he moves like a sloth in the morning, getting ready in 0.25x speed due to his residual sleepiness. <3

Eddie watched Zardoz and made it his entire personality for like two years. Seriously, he quoted it non-stop for two years straight. <3

Eddie has a thing about toenails. Not feet in general, just toenails. They absolutely disgust him. He gags every time he cuts his own toenails. So, yeah, Eddie’s the kinda man to chew with his mouth open and belch in your face just for shits and gigs, but cower in fear when he’s faced with a human toenail. <3

I know I already said that Eddie cries when he watches emotional movies (The Color Purple, Old Yeller, etc.), but here’s the thing about Eddie… He’ll sob like a baby while watching those movies, sure, but while he’s actively sobbing he’s also making fun of you for doing the exact same thing. He’s like “You’re such a crybaby. *sniffle* It’s not even that sad. *sniffle, sniffle* God, who cries during the happy parts of movies?? *sob*” <3

Eddie used to steal your clothes so much that eventually you just cleared out a drawer in your dresser and filled it with clothes that you were willing to share with him. Of course, your clothes are too big for such a lithe lil stringbean like Eddie, but he still loves wearing them. You don’t mind much, though, because you get to reap the benefit of your comfiest t-shirts and sweatpants smelling like Eddie. <3

In direct response to you making a drawer for him in your dresser, Eddie went out, bought a bunch of comfy clothes in your size from Goodwill, and filled a drawer of his dresser with them, that way you’d both have drawers of shareable clothes at your respective homes. <3

One time Eddie walked into the living room wearing a baby pink t-shirt with some CareBears and a vibrant rainbow printed on the front, and Wayne almost keeled over from laughing so hard. His amusement was doubled when he noticed the matching pastel scrunchie in his nephew’s hair, something Eddie had also “borrowed” from you. <3

Eddie’s weirdly into soap operas, especially Dynasty. The man loves Dynasty. However, he’ll only watch soap operas when he’s high because he thinks it makes for a better viewing experience. <3

Eddie never wears boxers underneath his sweatpants nor under his pajama pants. Why? Because he’s a whore. Because he firmly believes that you should only wear underwear with uncomfy pants (for example, jeans) and that cozy pants do not warrant underwear; it’s just a waste of good, clean boxers to wear them beneath sweatpants and pajama pants. <3

All of Eddie’s shirts are either just a bit too tight or entirely too big for him. This man does not know his real shirt size. <3

Eddie does not wash his feet when he showers. He also rarely washes his arms or legs. He feels that you really only need to wash the “essential” parts when you shower; the essential parts being his armpits and naughty bits. <3

Eddie once got you a purse for your birthday… sort of. Really he just haphazardly sewed one of the straps from his backpack onto an old, cloth sack and painted the words “Miguel Cores” on the front of it. It actually works really well as a reusable grocery bag for all of your nonperishables. <3

Eddie’s right eye gets all twitchy after sleepless nights. The boys always see it and think that he’s pissed off about something, but really the sweet man just needs his rest. <3

Eddie sucks at holding grudges. I’m not kidding, the man is genuinely horrible at holding grudges, mostly because he often forgets about whatever has happened within a few days; his anger vanishing along with the memory of what’s transpired. Case in point, you both had a severe falling out during the summer before your freshman year, which ended up in the two of you being at odds for two whole years. Or, rather, it ended up in you being mad at him for nearly two years. Eddie, however, consistently kept forgetting that you were mad at him during that time. In fact, he would often approach you in the halls of Hawkin’s High so that he could banter with you like he had in middle school, only to be reminded of your steadfast dislike of him by your short responses, refusal to meet his gaze, tense posture, and clipped tone. </3

He chews his gum like a cow munches on grass, just annoyingly loud and with his lips constantly smacking together. <3

Eddie’s fancy, old-fashioned silver lighter -the only good thing he ever got from his shitty old man- also doubles as his preferred fidget toy. The man always needs to have something to do with his hands. <3

He’s a wizard with some sidewalk chalk. It used to drive you crazy as a kid because he would always do these really detailed drawings with the crumbly chalk that your mom got from the dollar store, meanwhile you were always just stuck writing your name or drawing hearts and stick figures. <3

At 10 years old, Eddie invented his own language while cooped up in the back seat of his uncle’s car on an annoyingly long summer road trip to Myrtle Beach. He hasn’t taught the language to anyone, not even to you, but sometimes you’ll hear him mumble things to himself in his strange tongue. You, Wayne, and your mom have picked up on the meanings behind certain words and phrases over the years, simply because he uses them so frequently, but other than that, it’s mostly gibberish to the three of you. <3

Eddie spent a solid two months trying to convince his elementary school crush that he was, in fact, Mick Jagger. He even nailed the Mockney accent from listening to his radio interviews. Unfortunately, they weren’t buying it. <3

Eddie refuses to touch you when/if you’re wearing anything made out of velvet simply because the feeling of velvet makes his skin crawl. So, no hugs, no playful wrestling, and absolutely no cuddles while you’re wearing velvet. <3

In the summer of ‘85, Eddie won a goldfish at one of the carnival games at the local fair and named him Tater Tot, but he knew that he couldn’t afford all the stuff the little guy needed to stay alive, so he gave him away to some little girl that had been trying to win one of her own for nearly an hour. <3

Let’s be real here for a second: Eddie’s not straight. Actually, due to a lack of terminology available to him, Eddie doesn’t really know what he is. He knows that he likes women, he knows that he likes men, and he knows that he likes people who are neither women nor men, but, given that it’s the 80s and he lives in rural Indiana, he’s not really sure if there’s a word for that. Truthfully, he’s not really sure if anyone else in the world even feels the same way that he does. Obviously, there are tons of people out there with the same sexual orientation as him, but, fuck, he doesn’t know that. When he was much, much younger he felt incredibly isolated and insecure about his sexuality, but as he’s grown up he’s become less unsure of himself and more accepting of his sexual orientation. Of course, he still likes to keep a low profile, at least when it comes to his sexuality, because, as I said, it is the 80s and he does, indeed, live in rural Indiana. However, he’s at least become confident enough to come out to his closest friends and family. Hence, the rainbow mug in the Munsons’ famous mug collection. <3

Eddie’s a crafty lil goblin, he loves to craft. Papier-mâché, fuck yeah. Hot glue, hell fuckin’ yeah. In fact, many of the props in the theatre room were crafted by Eddie during his time at Hawkins High. Even after he stopped doing theatre, he still always volunteered to help the drama club set up for their performances and craft their props. <3

“But why did he quit theatre?” one may ask. Well, there was the Great Egg Incident of ‘82, in which a bunch of upperclassmen (mostly jocks) literally threw eggs at the drama club during their spring production of Guys and Dolls. More specifically, their onslaught began right as Eddie began uttering his most iconic line in the show, “Nicely, nicely, thank you,” so Eddie, understandably, took that pretty personally. As a result, he left the drama club at the end of sophomore year and, instead, opted to focus all of his creative energy on the hellfire club. </3

You and Eddie took the same art class senior year and it was honestly one of the only classes he passed that year. Every Friday, you guys had to turn in a weekly sketch for that class and his favorite one that he’d done was of you; he’d drawn it while you were working on homework together at the picnic table near his trailer. At the end of the year, he’d asked the teacher for it back so that he could keep it. <3

Eddie’s a massive worrywart when it comes to the people he loves, that’s especially true when it comes to you. <3

Eddie once risked further social ostracism to help you take the little kids you babysit to Build-A-Bear when Starcourt Mall first opened up. In the end, you rewarded him by making him a stuffed animal of his own, a spotted dog named Ozzy who’s adorned in the most metal (or metal-adjacent) outfit Build-A-Bear had to offer. Perhaps that shouldn’t have been so rewarding for a 19 year old guy, but 1) he’d never really had many toys growing up, at least none quite as nice and soft as Ozzy the Dog, and 2) watching you kiss the little cloth heart before gently stuffing it inside the toy did funny little things to his supposedly cynical heart. He’ll never admit it, but he sleeps with that stuffed dog far more than a guy his age probably should. <3

Although Eddie never makes his own bed, he’ll gladly help you make yours because he knows that fitted sheets are the bane of your existence. <3

[forestryfae]

"can people please be quiet with teh doors" "yeah you can have attention tomorrow" FUCK OFF. DIE. I CAN SLAM THE DOOR AT FUCKING EIGHT PM IF I WANT TO, FUCK OFF WITH THE TALKING TO EVERYONE THROUGH SNAPCHAT CUS YOU HAVE A PROBELM WITH ONE PERSON AND THE SECOND CUNT. man i am SO glad he sSO much better and more mature than everyone else, he totally is so much better than me for not slamming doors and he has SUCH a good handle on his emotions that when hes mad or annoyed or cranky he doesnt just straight up insult people or get bitchy or bite at them or act like a complete cunt, he totally didnt completely stop talking to a friend just cus she didnt liek him romantically, he totally doesnts it in the livingroom being crankya nd sulky and bitchy all fucking day so its uncomfortable for everyone else to sit in there.

not that anyone has any issue with it when this third guy slams the front door and slams the chair when he moves it and all that shit without being fucking angry or upset, he does it just for fun. noone complains when he and this girl literally ran like fucign idiots up the stairs and made a huge fucking racket at nearly 11. the same guy who slams the doors for fun fucking played music at full volume WITH bass for months and noone complained cus hes "sensitive". i can hear someones fucking music right now and its not that looud but its still fucking annoying, and it usually lasts until WAY past 11

but if i get angry its "attention whore" and "dont slam doors" and i dont see ANYONE and if im still angry when they come to talk to me noone wants to be around me. fuck me, im not allowed to be angry ever and when i am and its fucking righteous and fair and welldeserved im still a bitch and i need to widen my tolerance window. FUCK that

and somehow im supposed to make friends and be a productive member of society and live on my own independently?? how the fuck am i suppose dto do that when im not allowed to do shit. i cant try to be social, i cant be sad or upset, i cant be happy or someone will do their best to ruin that, i cant be angry, i cant even be fucking hungry or tired, theres noever any excuse that is good enough and its all my fault because i dont take responsibility, and no matter what im always fucking annoying everyone. noone is ever on my team either cus it entierly depends on whether or not they agree or disagree with me, whether theyre annoyed at me or not, and whether its a neccessity that isnt fulfilled that im not worth enough to be allowed to have. everything is my fault, im not given any grace that is given to anyone else because i dont fucking deserve it, i am awarded nothing for being capable of doing things that are hard for me no matter what because i dont fucking deserve it for doing the bare minimum, i dont deserve to be helped and im not good enough to get help no matter what i do, im inherently THE worst person in the world and no matter how little i care about myself and how little i feel just to make other people comfortable its never going to be enough

youd think not hitting people or breaking stuff and only slamming doors even though youre fuckign furious and could scream and bite people was on some level actually a good thing. and yet here i am being told im an attention whore for slamming a door and hiding in my room and crying as quietly as i can so noone can fucking hear me. cus im not fucking allowed to be upset and removing myself from a situation that fucking infuriates me and makes me want to scream. ud think removing myslef so i dont scream at people cus people dont like that would be a good thing but no. thats also fucking bad. not that anyone fucking cares either, staff doesnt come check on me. staff doesnt care. my parents dont care. friends dont give a shit. noones gonna come comfort me or actually help with the underlying issue or the constant repeating pattern of bullshit. nah fuck that its my fault for being angry at bullshit to begin with. im an asshole for this, noone else is at blame for being shit at communication or treating me like shit, and i just need to stop having any emotions that annoy other people. god fuck off and eat shit. what the fuck.

[my-sherlock221b]

Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Wendigo

Wendigo

The long line of the MoTW series in Supernatural starts off with the Woman in White which is fairly well- known legend/ myth in most countries.  Then we get this one next which claims origin from the Native American mythology.

Here is a review of the Wendigo episode with thoughts from me and @soulmates-for-real​

I have always wondered why they were not so inclusive or better at being inclusive as a show. Yes, they did have many women and people of colour in important and strong roles, both positive and negative (though they could have done so much better!). But they steered clear from some of the huge mythology lores like that from Native Americans, Hindu, Latin American cultures. This may have been a wise political strategy to avoid conflict and so they stuck to the Judeo- Christian core but still managed a rather radical take on it!

Spoiler alert:

*God was the final villain?! Who would have guessed? And that the angels were dicks, relentlessly, and demons were in fact ex-humans.*

So back to Wendigo.

What a monster the Wendigo is!! In later seasons when we got only angels and demons and some vampires etc the other monsters were monsters in and of themselves. Like they were born that way—needing to eat human pituitary glands or whatever.

But Woman in White and Wendigo, and even Dead in the Water, or the Shapeshifter --the monster was created by circumstances. Betrayal and infidelity leading to murder suicides, extreme starvation leading to cannibalism and eternal hunger.

Far more terrifying than someone who is born a ghoul perhaps.

So here we are in Wendigo, at the forest/camp site with these fake, charming, rather useless camp rangers who carry M&Ms (nice touch and throwback to E.T. !), don’t wear shorts ( which anyway seems like a weird thing to wear when there is grass and stuff—why would you want to expose your legs?!), can’t see bear traps ( Seriously Dean?! ).

Sam is still restless and bristling at Jess’s death, as well as angry at Dad. All those years of separation do not seem to have given him any peace in his relationship with his father. Now to add massive insult to his already injured sense of self—he has lost his girlfriend in exactly the same way as his father lost his wife—making them even more identical.

So he is cranky and unwilling to give in to any of Dean’s suggestions. He denies his own nightmares, refuses good advice and food and is generally misanthropic. While Dean on the other hand seems to be enjoying this like a happy jolly road trip. The monster is almost like a secondary priority now.

What is most important, (and this becomes even more obvious in a re-watch post finale)—what is THE most important thing is that Sammy is riding shotgun, is in front of his eyes and safe.

Miserable and bitchy but safe.

That allows Dean to dial back a bit and bring into focus what has always been, for him, the really important part of their lives—saving people. This is always more important to him that hunting things. So, when he finds out about someone’s brother being lost and the coordinates match what his dad has left, well there is no choice really.

They have to find a way to save him.

If they find Dad there, well, good, but that is suddenly not a priority for him at all. He turned up at Sam’s doorstep, and as we know from the finale, waited there for HOURS since he was unsure of his welcome, then broke in at 3 am or something like an idiot….but anyway…..all that was because Dad had been away on a hunting trip and hadn’t been home in a few days…blah blah blah.

The first contact Dean makes with Sam who left home to go to college is to recruit him to help find Dad—the same guy who told Sam that if he went away to stay away.

And then suddenly now that Sam is with him, finding Dad is like meh. If we find him somewhere by the wayside while you and I hunt monsters Sammy, then yeah sure, great.

If not…well….we have stuff to do you and I…saving people, hunting things. The family business. 

And John Winchester….well, what can I possibly say about him without taking up pages in ranting?! Why did he ditch the first monster? Why was he in SUCH a hurry to leave that he left his journal behind??

My theory of course is that he had to run away from the Woman in White since he had been unfaithful to Mary ( yes yes I know it had been YEARS at that point, but hello, this man made his life a crusade for revenge and sacrificed his kids’ lives also to that darkness, so…yes, being with Adam’s mother was an infidelity and you can’t change my mind on that !).

So naturally John was afraid he would be killed.

But still….he left coordinates for the next hunt in the journal and just ran off?!

The other question is what the hell is happening in motels across USA? Guys like these can just check- in on fake credit cards, leave a room full of satanic and serial killer-y documents, sometimes dead bodies, lots of salt at the door and windows, and just disappear without checking out….

Though the police do seem quite alert and swift in action in the Pilot compared to some of the laidback and clueless ones we see later.

What is most interesting is to see the character of season 1 Dean emerge.

He sass, he boss, he flirt, he lie, he charm, he fight, he save.

In fact, the very first time I saw Supernatural, it seemed that Dean occupied so much of the narrative space that I barely noticed Sam except as a foil to and a brother to Dean.

Now in the re-watch what is fascinating in retrospect is to watch Sam slide into ‘the life’ without a hiccup. He reads the journal, he figures out it’s a wendigo, he gets the civilians to cooperate, he also fights and saves.

And that look he gives Dean in the car?

Well, those who missed the signs in Pilot and didn’t ship Wincest from day one, surely started doing it then!

https://www.geekgirlauthority.com/supernatural-rewatch-s01e02-wendigo/

This is also the first episode that gives a clear parallel to the Sam and Dean relationship through the B plot. When Haley says she MUST go to find her brother –Dean nods in instant understanding while Sam is pissed off at having to ‘babysit.’

We see this in many more episodes in the future, and what is fascinating is to see Sam gain insights into his brother with every such parallel. To recognize what being the big brother has meant to Dean and how much he has done and given and even suffered for that. We will discuss this in more detail in the next episode review! ( Dead in the Water)

The chemistry and ease, almost a fluid sense of flow between the two actors is unmistakable in this episode. Even as Sam is really being a bitch and Dean is being a jerk, there is a definite undercurrent of something holding them together. It may be all about revenge for Jess’s death and finding Dad for Sam, but he will still stick with Dean and want to protect him as fiercely as Dean wants to protect Sam.

.

Sheila O’Malley has given a detailed explanation for the acting styles of Jared and Jensen and what she said about Jared is spot on and brilliant. He does what she calls active listening.

It is amazing how once you realize that you notice it all the time.

The reason why Dean can manage such perfect comedic timing or non- verbal communication is because Sam is always ALWAYS tuned into him. Listening, watching, reacting, observing.

Once again, for those of you interested in the meta and more erudite and informed reviews that this one 😊 do read what Sheila O’Malley has written.

Here are some excerpts which will entice you!

“David Nutter, who directed the pilot, also directed episode 2, and there’s a new DP here, the phenomenally talented Serge Ladouceur, who is still shooting the show. If the DP for the pilot, Aaron Schneider, helped establish the dark mood and horror-movie feel of the series, then Ladouceur just helped deepen and strengthen that continuum. The look of the show has changed, by Season 9. I would say that it has a more glamorous look now, more colorful, while certainly still very dramatic (even melodramatic). Supernatural is (and has been) one of the best looking shows on television.”

“The ranger comes in to talk to them, and they pose as environmental studies majors at the university in Boulder. Sam says they are “working on a paper”, clearly improvising, and you can watch the glorious schtick of Jensen Ackles as he adjusts to the new information of who he is supposed to be pretending to be. God is in the details, people, and it’s the detailed scene work of both Ackles and Padalecki that keeps this show going. David Nutter referred to Jensen Ackles once as a “meticulous actor” in terms of his preparation for every scene, no matter how small, and it pays off. He knows what the fuck he is doing. So does Padalecki. I couldn’t give two shits about the demons. It’s that DYNAMIC that is so entertaining and watch-able.”

 .

And here are some thoughts on the episode from @soulmates-for-real, my partner in crime for the rewatch 😊

Except the fact that Sam is quite secretive about his nightmares but his body language is quite open and his expressions easy to read. On the contrary, I saw Dean posturing a lot with other people, pouting, flirting, making eyes...trying to be all nonchalant. But when it comes to Sam we see a different Dean - the more antsy and angsty Sam gets, the more intensely Dean reacts to him and you can see Dean's concern shining through. Leading to Sam coming to some kind of resolution and giving Dean 'that look' at the end! 

[theladylovingcrow]

Don't Go Away Mad (Please Actually Talk To Me About the Issue) 💜 Sanny 💜

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner

Length: about 1.7k

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, communication issues, cuddling and snuggling, sharing a bed, getting together, fluff

Summary: They'd slept together so many times - but this was different. It would have been different starting last night, if a misunderstanding hadn't made Danny kick himself to the couch... but that didn't matter now.

Author's Notes: This is cheesy angst, I won't deny it. Fucking relationship miscommunication. Also, I just realized that cuddling is definitely a theme in my stories... I guess since I spend a lot of my writing process in bed or wishing for someone to cuddle with... yeah ok bye imma go hug a pillow

-----------

Sam yawned and stretched, flinging his limbs out to the other half of the morning dawn-lit bed. Danny stood in the doorway, watching him warily, but not fully masking his examinations - or detailed cataloging for appreciation, rather - either.

"Um...morning, Sammy." He bit out, voice soft and a bit hesitant, as if hiding something. "How'd you sleep? Is that bed comfy?"

"You'd know it is if you'd bothered to sleep in it." Danny nearly shivered at the coldness in Sam's voice. "Why didn't you come to bed yesterday? I left you room," he snapped, waving a hand lazily in the air over the green flannel sheets.

There was indeed an empty half of the bed that Sam had dutifully not slept on, so that Danny would have had a space to slip into when he was supposed to get in. But he hadn't made a peep nor an appearance all night. By three in the morning, Sam accepted that he was going to be left alone and confused for the night. By his waking a mere few hours later, he was not only confused, but pissed off. What had he done? Why was he getting the cold treatment? Why was Danny breaking up the good thing they had had going - slow, tentative, silent, but moving steadily forward to something he thought they both wanted?

"Well, I didn't think you'd appreciate me sleeping in the same bed as you. I slept on the couch."

"Dude, what are you talking about, what is this?" Sam scoffed. "We've slept together so many times! I don't mind at all. Why on Earth would you ruin your back on the couch?" He said - almost yelled, but held himself back - brazen in his hurt and anger, not bothering to speak delicately about this... thing like they usually did.

Danny grimaced. "Oh, well I, I thought you were really mad at me... aren't you?"

"What?" Sam asked again, sitting up. Danny looked away as the blankets pooled around his bare hips, shuffling his feet still in the doorway. "No, I'm not mad at you, or, at least, I wasn't yesterday. Why would you think that?"

Danny shrugged and looked down. "I dunno, I just- it seemed like you were upset yesterday, and I guessed it had something to do with me because you were being a bit...cranky and standoffish, you kept telling me to go do things that were away from you, and your answers were always short when I tried to talk. I figured you'd want the bed to yourself, and you certainly wouldn't want to see me anymore for awhile."

Sam sighed, anger gone and guilt replacing it, patting the space next to him. Danny hesitantly sat down, keeping as much distance between his butt and Sam's body as he could without falling off of the bed.

"So, your solution was to assume you needed to give me space, and you put yourself through discomfort so you wouldn't upset me further?"

Danny nodded timidly, still not looking at Sam. His best friend frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder - but Danny stiffened up, back ramrod straight and eyes staring to the doorway.

"Danny!" Sam gasped, quiet but passionate. He wiggled over in the bed, wrapping all of his limbs around him. "That was incredibly sweet of you, but please, please don't ever do it again."

Danny's head turned towards Sam a fraction, his shoulders loosening almost imperceptibly. Sam moved his hand down from Danny's shoulder to his chest, resting it over his beating heart. The bare skin, still undressed in the early morning, was clammy and slightly sweaty, as if Danny was quietly anxious about more than Sam simply being cranky with him the day before.

"'M not mad, Danya," Sam whispered into the skin on his shoulder, the old nickname stirring a noticeable attention that his other words might not have reached.

"Sure you are, you're mad at me right now."

His voice was quiet; not gentle or even upset, but resigned. It broke Sam's heart that he had somehow given the impression that he was angry at Danny, and that he had causes him this much grief. His earlier questions reflected onto himself: what had he done to break what they had slowly been building?

"Danny, listen to me: I was NOT angry at you yesterday. I was in a bad mood, but you didn't cause it. You're my best friend, and I love you, I never intended to hurt you so bad, didn't even know I was hurting you at all."

"You promise me," Danny asked, his need for a final answer clear, "You promise me that you're not mad?"

He was pulled all the way onto the bed by Sam's skinny arms grabbing at him. He huffed and complied, worming under the covers so that he could cuddle up with Sam like he apparently wanted.

Sam layed a hand on his bicep and looked him in the eyes. "I'm so, so sorry I was in a bitchy mood yesterday, and if I took it out on you without realizing it. But, you absolutely weren't the cause," he said softly. "I don't know what it was that got me so pissed off, but it wasn't you. I was actually really looking forward to going to bed..." he trailed off, the unstated 'with you' self evident.

"Oh... I- oh," Danny whispered, relief and shame at jumping to conclusions without asking Sam coursing through him. "So I didn't need to sleep on the couch?"

"No, no," Sam shook his head, imploring Danny to fully believe him. "You didn't do a single thing wrong, it was me who should have told you what was going on with me, and I should have seen that you were upset, too."

"Yeah, maybe you should've, but I'm sorry, too. I should have just asked. I really don't know why I didn't, honestly," he chuckled, "you'd think that, by now, we'd be experts in communication."

"Nah, we're mind readers!"

They both laughed, grinning at each other a little easier now. Danny wrapped his arms around Sam while he giggled and squirmed against him, cracking up at his own comment.

"I didn't realize you forgot your pajamas," Danny said, squeezing Sam's bare thigh in between his thicker, sweatpants covered ones. A hand lightly swatted at Sam's ass, feeling the extent of his "forgotten pajamas" that was pressed up against Danny.

"I was waiting for you. I don't need clothes to keep me warm when I have you."

"Well, I guess I could keep you warm. But what about when you're actually mad at me, for reals?"

Sam made a decision, not ready to let this confusion happen again - he much preferred Danny teasing him while they cuddled.

"From now on, I don't care how mad we actually are at each other, we still sleep in the same bed. I think waking up in the morning to your face right next to me would alleviate most anger, anyways. Don't go to the couch again."

"I won't." Danny sniffed, tilted his head back on the pillow a little to look Sam in his dark eyes. "What about when we aren't mad at each other?"

Sam looked contemplative. After a minute he turned his gaze away from the corner of the room back to Danny, catching his eyes. "We sleep in the same bed."

He sounded confident, but the slight twitch of his left brow was a signal Sam knew Danny knew meant that he was going out on a limb. Sam was suggesting a crossing of lines they had never verbally, and rarely ever consciously, dared to acknowledge. Danny closed his eyes and nodded, resting his forehead against Sam's, feeling the soft breaths that escaped his lips brushing against his own.

The transaction was done, the arrangement agreed upon. Namely: they were now going to be sleeping together - and they both knew that meant literally and also literally - on a regular basis. It was nice to finally acknowledge what they'd both been silently contemplating and tentatively testing out; relieving, even, to have a rule to ground it. They were friends, best friends, during the day, and they would enjoy each other's company immensely.  And when nighttime came, they would get in bed together and enjoy each other there, too, in a newer way.

"This could have been arranged a long time ago."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "but where's the fun in good partner communication? I don't know about you, but I like going to bed angsty and separate from you much better."

The laughter died down and they remained cuddled up, pressed tight against each other, everything forgiven. Danny worked his knuckles up and down Sam's narrow back, working into wiry muscles and bumpy knobs of bone. He circled around the sharp point of a shoulder blade, then the other, feeling out every nuance of Sam's body as if he was trying to learn it as well as his.

Sam ran his hand up Danny's own back, feeling the larger muscle mass subtly shift on his frame - a frame that was probably half a foot wider than Sam's. It covered him, shielded him from anything beyond their world and let him rest his own body on it.

"I seriously have no idea how you fit on that couch. Is your back really okay?"

Danny sighed, confessed, "My right side does kind of hurt, and my shoulders are pretty tense. I had to sleep on my side all hunched up so that I wouldn't fall off the second I relaxed."

"You're such an idiot," Sam murmered, giving the aformented areas a firm rub with his warm hands.

Danny worked his other arm the rest of the way under Sam's torso, grabbing at the small of his back not to pull him close - they were as snug against each other as they could be - but to assure himself, and Sam, that he wasn't going to give up possession of him, ever. He pressed a kiss to Sam's temple, then slowly dragged his lips down to Sam's lips. It was a soft, damp kiss, their first when completely lucid.

Sam broke away with a smile, giving Danny a final kiss before turning his face down, tucking it under Danny's chin. Their pulses slowed and matched as the sun rose, wrapped up in their first of many beds they would truly, actually share.

----------

@satans-helper @okietrish @lazingonsunday @bigthighsandstupidguys @karrotkate @oblvions @lantern-inthenight @mountainofthesunn @ryetheruler

[qveersam]

gorgeous

i made this gifset based on taylor swift’s song gorgeous and i kept thinking this could be a fic, so i kinda wrote one??? i haven’t written anything in years and it’s actually my first time writing any fiction in english, so if anyone reads this pls be kind??? lmao it’s nothing special really, but it’s a nice exercise to write in your second language.

there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad

- “gorgeous” by ts

wincest; 1.6k; first kiss; dean is angry bc sam is pretty [ao3]

It took Sam some time to notice. At first, he brushed it off as Dean’s usual annoyed stares. When you spent almost every hour of the day with your brother, you were bound to get on each other’s nerves. He knew that, specially since he and Dean had that strange magnetic field between them, pulling them close even when they didn’t want to. And he could totally admit he was probably almost as annoying as Dean, no matter what his brother might like to say about him thinking he was better than everyone else. What Sam thought was weird, though, was that he kept catching Dean staring angrily at him even when they hadn’t argued in God knows how long. Even on those good weeks, after a particularly good hunt or after a couple of days off. He was pretty sure he wasn’t that annoying, at least not enough to deserve so many glowering looks anyway.

It was a beautiful and warm morning when Sam finally accepted Dean was angry at him for some reason. There wasn’t any reason for Dean to be pissy that day. They’d decided to take the day to do some research, even though they both knew that was just an excuse to sleep in, watch crappy movies and take proper care of some injuries that wouldn’t heal no matter what they did. Maybe they could even use the motel pool Dean was always so excited about, even though Sam thought was too gross to go in. It was the perfect day for them to just be them. No drama, no demons, no dying people. Just them taking care of each other like they used to, talking about nothing and everything over half drank beers.

So of course Sam was surprised when he came back to the motel after getting breakfast and was greeted with an eye roll from Dean. No good morning, no thanks, Sammy. Just an eye roll and an annoyed snort.

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam set the greasy bags on the dirty looking side table and turned to his brother with what he knew was his signature bitchy expression. Dean stopped on his way to the table, and had at least the decency to look guilty for a couple of seconds. He returned to himself quickly enough, setting with his now usual cranky mood. He brushed past Sam and grabbed a donut.

“Nothin’. What else ya got there? Smells good.” And just like that, Sam was expected to drop it. He knew how much his brother hated talking about stuff and would very much prefer to just keep things bottled up until he exploded and ended up punching Sam. And hell, Sam was sick and tired of acting careful around Dean and then pissing him off anyway. He really needed to find out what the hell he did wrong this time.

His answer came that afternoon, their speeches slurred from the alcohol. The sun kept getting hotter as the hours passed so, without a working AC on the room, their obvious solution had been to get drunk off their asses. They were lying each on their bed, watching The Fly on the old TV set, talking and joking, a nice change from the past days. On one of the long commercial breaks, Sam for once decided to get them something stronger from the mini frigde. He was still laughing over something stupid Dean said and had already forgotten about, when he grabbed two glasses of cheap whiskey and gave one for his brother.

Sam laid back on the bed, leaving his own glass forgotten for a moment, and stretched, the hem of his t-shirt getting caught and revealing some of his stomach, trying to find a more comfortable position to finish his drink. That’s when he saw Dean looking at him, his expression slowly turning into one of his scowls. Sam saw his brother turn his face away from him as soon as he realized he’d been caught, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. Dean dragged his hand across his face and he quickly took his glass of whiskey, clenched jaws and furrowed eyebrows, avoiding Sam’s eyes. Sam just kept looking at him. They were having a nice time, weren’t they? He couldn’t turn his eyes away from Dean, wondering what had gone wrong. This time it was Sam staring, he knew Dean would snap at him in approximately 10 seconds if he didn’t stop. So he didn’t.

“Will you please just tell me what I did, Dean? I can’t put up with your pissy face forever”, he said jokingly, only to receive an annoyed huff. Alright, not in the mood then, he thought.

“Already said it’s nothin’, Sam. Just let it go.”

“Yeah, right. I know how much you love projecting your bullshit on me, Dean. I’m not your own personal punching bag or some shit”, Sam probably would have sounded a lot more convincing if he weren’t mispronouncing every other word. Damn you, alcohol. “Can we talk like grown ups instead of acting like passive agressive teenagers for once, Dean?” Sam rolled his eyes and Dean kept quiet for some time, trying his best to ignore him.

“Will you stop staring? ‘s not helping, y’know?”, he turned to Sam with an exasperated growl, rolling his eyes again. Dean looked back to the TV, adding in an almost inaudible whisper, “That fuckin’ face, man. I can’t fuckin’ look at that fuckin’ face anymore. Fuckin’ pretty boy or whatever.”

Sam almost choked on his drink, staring at Dean’s profile as he finished the whiskey at a single gulp. “What’s that about my face?”, Sam’s voice was almost amused now, not sure what he’d heard. Had he heard it? No way. Right? He’s totally way too drunk right now. Dean would never say that. Right?

Dean turned back to Sam looking both agressive and caught at the same time. He practically threw his empty glass back on the bed before standing up and pacing on the small space between their beds. He passed his fingers on his short hair, rolled his eyes yet again – Sam swore was going to fucking kill him if Dean did that one more time – and stopped, glaring at Sam.

“Your face, Sam. Think you can just go around looking like that? I-I mean… What the fuck, y’know? My baby brother has no business lookin’ like a fuckin’ model every time I look at him”, Dean sounded frustrated and Sam couldn’t close his fucking mouth he was so shocked. “And then, I mean… whatcha trynna do here? Gimme a fuckin’ heart attack every time you smile with those fuckin’ dimples and all? Gonna fuckin’ kill me one of these days. I can’t look at you, I’m gonna fuckin’ punch you or somethin’.”

“Okay, so lemme get this straight… You’re angry with me because I look... good?”, Sam couldn’t keep the disbelieve from his voice.

“No, Sammy! I’m angry with you because you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. For fuck’s sake. Fuckin’ gorgeous, man. Look at your face!”, and then he wasn’t looking at Sam anymore. He turned shyly away from his brother and ran his hand through his hair again. “You’re so gorgeous it makes me so fuckin’ mad, Sam. Y’know I always hate what I can’t have.”

The alcohol burned in Sam’s stomach. Was that for real? His stupid beautiful brother, with those very stupid green eyes and freckles and that obscene mouth of his… calling him gorgeous? What a weird choice of word, by the way, but he’d worry about it later. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for that information to fully sink in. Dean seemed to be holding his breath too. Waiting. Expecting. None of them knew what, but definitely something. For a moment, Sam forgot about everything around them. Past and present became an irrelevant mess, everything leading to them right in that room. What did anything matter now? Sam had basically just heard Dean wanted him. And thought he couldn’t have him. How could his own flesh and blood be so unbelievably dumb sometimes?

“Who says you can’t have me?”

Dean turned to Sam with his eyes confused and pleading. The air felt suddenly very heavy with the weight of possibility, the whole universe concentrated around them, in every inch of space between them, inside them. Sam felt the strong pull towards his brother he always did his best to ignore as he got up from the bed and walked the few steps until he reached Dean. He almost jumped when Sam touched his shoulder, a shiver passing both of them, as if all of the touches and looks and moments between them were enough to cause an electric storm right there in the space between their skins. A million thoughts were racing in Sam’s head as he closed the space between their mouths, and then they went quiet all at once. The only thing he could think about were those lips under his, the way Dean immediately put his hands on Sam’s neck, bringing them closer together, their mouths opening up for each other.

“You’re gorgeous too, Dean”, Sam managed to say between kisses, smiling because he thought he actually understood the word choice. There couldn’t be another word to describe Dean. Or to describe them. Together.

[tumb1rprincess]

Got back from the beach trip I’ve been looking forward to for, like, months.  Like, it felt so good to be there and I didn’t want to come back.  But, I have job interviews to go to this week, so I gotta.

Pros of this trip:

The ocean, of course.  :)  I don’t know what it is, but I just love everything about it.  I love being in it, I love looking at it, I love going out to the balcony of the condo we were staying at and breathing in the salty air.  I just love it.

I collected lots of pretty seashells.  I’m gonna decorate a mason jar with ocean stuff and put them inside.  I’ll practically have the beach in a jar.  XD

I also went to some botanical gardens and aquarium nearby.  Those were really fun.  The ocean critters are always fun to see, and I saw lots of pretty flowers too.

Drinking wine near the beach is a very nice experience.  I plan on doing it next year.  :)

Got myself a shotglass and a snowglobe with a dolphin on it.  Super happy about that.

Cons of the trip:

Getting a wicked bad sunburn.  Still can’t take clothes on and off without some part of it hurting.  It’ll probably go away in the next few days, but until then, it’s gonna suck.

Driving there was a bitch.  It normally takes 3-4 hours from where we are to get to the beach.  When we went there, it took us about 5-6 hours.  It was a nightmare.  And everyone’s phones were dying, so it was hard to keep mapquest up so we could read the directions on how to get there.  By the end, we were all joking about death ‘cause we had just transcended beyond being angry.

My brother was being moody as fuck because he usually smokes, but he wasn’t allowed to on the trip, so he got super cranky.  And he was being stupid and hypocritical.  He says, like, 99% of the trip was stressful.  And I’m like “You’re acting like you didn’t have fun at all, which I know is a lie.”  Like, he enjoyed catching crabs on the beach and going to the aquarium.  He’s just being a moody jerk.

So, yeah.  Felt like giving you all that update.  XD  Despite some bitchy stuff happening, I still had fun.

[imagineswithfandoms-blog]

Interrupting

Guess who’s back from her cruise????? That’s right, me! Here’s a little Peter x reader fic I thought of. Also, on the downside, my wisdom teeth have started growing in and it hurts. (Might do a fic based on that)

Warnings: okay so I’ve also had this issue where when I’m sick I turn into a sarcastic, rude, monster with no filter. There’s a small part that is kind of based on that so reader may seem a little too much at a certain part.

Also reader is female and (obviously) at one point sick.

-

Y/n as a complete mess; everything made her nauseous and she still had major tests to study for. Y/n reread some notes but the sickness made it even more confusing. Y/n tried again and again but it didn’t work. Science wasn’t the easiest thing for her, but she was very tenacious when it came to doing well in school.

“Y/n,” it was her eldest sister, Alaina, who was visiting from college for the long weekend.

Y/n sat up in her fuzzy socks, pajama pants, and oversized sweaters. “What is it, Alaina? I’m trying to study,” y/n sounded irritated then she paused before adding, “it’s not going so well, but I’m trying.”

Alaina mumbled something about how y/n needed to take care of herself; then she rushed to her sister’s room with a glass of ginger ale. “There’s someone here that wants to check on you and tell you about some school thing.” Alaina then wiggled her eyebrows with a smirk, “you didn’t tell me that you had such cute friends.” Then Alaina winked with a mischievous look.

Y/n was surprised at this. She didn’t expect anyone to show up; Peter said something about checking in but she told him there was no need. Y/n didn’t want him getting sick and she didn’t want him seeing her like this.

“Leave him alone,” y/n knew her sister well.

Alaina simply laughed softly. “Don’t worry about that.” Alaina’s expression became softer, “he’s waiting in the kitchen.”

Y/n made her way to the kitchen feeling cold.

“Y/n, you’re still sick,” Peter asked?

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten much better; my throat’s been hurting and I can’t eat anything but these specific, flavorless crackers and ginger ale. Even with that I still throw up at least three times a day.” Y/n frowned as she told him this.

Peter gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry about that, I know how scared you were about falling behind so I brought you some notes. You don’t have to do anything now, but I knew you were scared about that.”

At this y/n smiled softly, “thanks Peter.” Then she noticed that he was dressed up, “you look nice.”

“T-thank you,” Peter was always flustered whenever y/n even remotely complimented him. “I’ve got a date nearby. With Anne, the girl from science class.”

These words hurt y/n. She had always felt more than a friendship towards Peter. And she couldn’t be mad, Anne was a sweet girl. They’d be happy and they had a lot in common. Of course it was Anne, she always flirted with Peter. “Yeah, I know Anne she’s great. I’m sure you two will have a great time,” y/n hadn’t meant to sound so…irritated and bitter. But she did.

“Y/n, it’s not…”

“You don’t need to excuse yourself Peter,” y/n couldn’t meet his gaze. “Thanks for the notes, you can go now.”

Peter had never felt so confused and unsure; the only reason he agreed to go out with Anne is because he felt that y/n didn’t like him at all. “Y/n…”

“Just shut up and go,” y/n snapped. “Because I just don’t want to do this.”

Y/n stormed away and Peter stood there.

“Everything alright?” Alaina walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

“I’m fine but y/n was a bit…” Peter trailed off since he didn’t know what to say.

“For lack of better term, bitchy,” Alaina provided. “I know she’s the worst when she’s sick. Yesterday, she yelled at me for eating potato chips loudly while she was trying to watch her favorite show.”

Peter felt a little better knowing that y/n wasn’t actually that upset with him. Peter and Alaina shared a small smile.

Then they heard y/n shout from the other room. “I can hear you and I hate all of you!”

Then the two laughed.

-

It had been two week and y/n was no longer sick. She returned to school and everything was normal. Peter seemed a bit distant and y/n thought it was because of her angry outburst from when she was sick. He’s probably busy with his new ‘girlfriend’, y/n thought. Anne and Peter had been on at least three more dates. It was “at least” because y/n had asked Gemma, a friend, and she only knew tidbits she could get Anne to admit.

“Hey y/n,” Peter surprised her at her locker.“

"Peter,” y/n turned around quickly, “hi.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been doing a lot of…things.” Ugh, Peter mentally groaned, I sound like I was avoiding her. But it’s not like he could tell her about all the superhero stuff.

“I get it, we’ve had a lot of homework, and dating Anne.” Y/n started to ramble, wanting so hard not to have him walk away. Because y/n rather have Peter as a friend then not have him at all.

“Actually the whole thing with Anne and I isn’t going to work out.” Peter admitted sheepishly.

Y/n pretended to be completely casual as she asked the next question. “Why’s that? You don’t have to answer but you two seemed happy.”

Peter shrugged softly, “it just didn’t work.” It was a lie, “there’s nothing specific that happened, it just wasn’t right,” that was a partial lie.

“Sorry about that, she’s a great person,” y/n smiled softly.

“Yep, anyways I was wondering if you would want to come over after school, to study.” Peter was smiling because that was there normal.

Y/n grinned, knowing that’s what he wanted too. “I’d like that.”

-

After talking to Peter’s aunt for a bit, y/n and Peter sat next to each other; they studied before talking about other stuff.

“You know how you said you hated me and your sister,” Peter brought up.

Y/n felt terrible, “I’m so sorry! I know that’s probably why you’ve stayed away and I was completely out of line. I-I didn’t mean anything because I-” Peter started laughing which confused y/n so she paused. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because I didn’t know you were such a mean person while you were sick,” Peter admitted.

Y/n smacked Peter playfully. “Stop laughing!”

Peter kissed her forehead, that was their relationship. Not a couple, but they could easily be a couple. They acted just like a couple. “Sorry…”

Y/n gave him a playful glare, “no you’re not.”

Peter laughed once again, “I did have a point to bringing that up.”

“Sorry, once again. And I could never hate you, because I could never hate you.” Y/n interrupted.

Peter gave her a suspicious look. “So…you could never hate?”

Y/n knew where this was going as Peter casually placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’m beginning to rethink that statement.”

“No you’re not.”

Then y/n thought of how wrong this could go. She could lose him completely, so instead of giving into his playful teasings she changed the subject. “You said you brought that up for a reason.”

“I wasn’t gong to say anything but then someone convinced me to…to tell you what I realized. I realized that even though you were cranky and mean-”

Y/n stopped him, “this better have a good point or else, Parker.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter said, “there’s a point; the point is no matter how you are I realized that I’d rather be with you during your worst than anyone else at their best.”

The silence hung way too long in Peter’s opinion, he was nervous, beyond nervous. Y/n’s face felt warm and Peter took note of how flustered y/n looked.

Y/n didn’t know how to respond. “I…”

“I’m sorry y/n,” Peter stated, “I shouldn’t have-”

y/n cut Peter off once again but this time it was with a kiss. A kiss she broke when she needed air.

“I’m glad you did,” she finally said.

[redrobin-detective]

You know what just makes me so angry? the fact that I'm not allowed to be angry or to have off days in my house. I had a long exhausting day at school and I come home to be bombarded with questions and nagged at and I get frustrated you know? I shut down the interrogations and, yeah, maybe I raised my voice and was cranky but I am cranky. It happens sometimes, I'm human.

When people I know get in a mood, you know what I do? I give them space, let them work out what they need to, I don't blame them for acting like a bit of a jerk. I'm sitting here trying to get some homework done early so I can fucking sleep tonight as I listen to my parents tell me over and over again that that everyone had a long day and there's no reason for me to be rude and why are you like this I thought only teenagers were supposed to be assholes. I finally got a minute's rest and my mom just popped in my room to ask if I was, and I quote, "still being a bitch" she didn't even need anything, just wanted to antagonize me.

Ug sorry I'm just so frustrated cause this happens every time I get cranky. And like it's not every goddamn day but it's coming up on finals and I'm so tired I want to cry and I'm stressed and I let out a little of my frustration and get shut down and written off as a bitchy menstruating (oh and you FUCKING BETTER BELIEVE my mom asked loudly if I had my period about 8 or 9 times cause that's the ONLY reason a woman can be upset) asshole.

I'm done, continue with your day, hope it's better than mine.