You Reblogging This Just Reminded Me But — Everyone Talks About How Ivan Has His Hand On Fedyor’s

Barbie, The Plastic Religion by Marianela Perelli and Pool Paolini (2014)

The Last Hours gang as Michael Scott quotes:

Cordelia

James

Lucie

Matthew

Anna

Thomas

Christopher

Alastair

Grace

Tatiana

Dean and Cas are both nightmare PTA parents, because their usual personality issues are switched. In this setting, dean is the one who causes problems on purpose (flirting with pta moms, homewrecking) and cas is the one who is like “i must control everything.” 

The slippery slope of shared involvement in this organization is that cas develops a vendetta against a rival mom named Helen, and takes dean, who is just having a fun time flirting with the moms & being a homewrecker, and recruits him to run interference and gather intelligence on her campaign for PTA presidency while CAS launches his OWN ruthless campaign for PTA presidency. 

Importantly, nobody knows the first thing about either of them,

because they are trying to live simultaneously in the smalltown settled-down world and also their world of incredible violence

Nobody knows what the angry trenchcoat dad’s deal is because they have never had a normal conversation with him 

but the moms speculate WILDLY about dean

and they hear weird things from their kids who know Jack

But in order for the scheme to work, none of these women know that Cas and Dean are associated with the same kid, never mind with each other.

So,

Keep reading

real event that occured that i cant stop thinking about

“You need to stop seeing [Villain].”

“Well I can’t exactly stand them up, now can I? That would be rude.”

The hero was walking around, getting ready for their hang-out session with the villain, while their colleague annoyingly trailed behind them.

“Am I the only one who sees how insane this is? They’re a villain.”

“Plaid or graphic tee?” the hero asked, holding up a shirt in each hand.

“I should hardly think that matters.”

“You’re right. It’s not like our clothes will be staying on very long anyways.” The hero grinned at the way the other superhero flushed.

Still, their colleague pressed on. “How is this not a conflict of interest?”

The hero shrugged. “We compartmentalize,” they said, pulling on the plaid shirt. “Enemies in the streets – ”

“You don’t need to finish that sentence.”

“ – fuckbuddies in the sheets.”

Their colleague sighed.

“Why, [Colleague], I never would have marked you for a prude.”

“Look, what you do in your personal life is your business …”

“Glad we’re agreed.”

“ … except when it puts the residents of this city at risk.”

The hero rolled their eyes. “Have you always been this dramatic?” They walked into the bathroom and picked up their toothbrush.

“You are vulnerable when you’re with [Villain].”

“And they’re vulnerable with me. That’s kind of how intimacy works.” They applied toothpaste and started brushing.

Their colleague shook their head, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t get it. Why are you so insistent on staying with them?”

The hero peered at their reflection and smiled. There were lots of reasons.

Things were open between the hero and villain, and they both had other partners. But none of the hero’s other friends with benefits had both Smash Bros and DDR. And none of them could do that thing with their tongue where …

Well, let’s just say the villain was a very talented individual.

Plus …

“[Villain] is literally the only other aroallo person I know,” they said, after spitting out their toothpaste.

The hero’s other partners accepted them, and didn’t expect anything romantic from them. But none of them quite got it the way the villain did.

Their colleague looked away. “I’m sure that’s very valuable for you …”

“Yeah, it is. You have no idea how much.” The hero wiped their mouth. “You’ve never felt the loneliness of thinking you’re the only person like yourself in the whole goddamn world.”

Their colleague looked up, meeting their gaze with a grim expression. “You’re right. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

The hero let out a breath. “But you still think I’m being selfish.”

“Yes.”

The hero nodded. They could appreciate the honesty, at least.

“I’m about to start pissing,” they said, gesturing to the toilet. “So if you don’t mind …”

Their colleague straightened. “I’ll go wait in the other room.”

“It might be best if you just let yourself out. [Villain] will be here pretty soon to pick me up.”

Their colleague didn’t look happy, but they gave a single nod. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

“Can’t wait.”

When they heard the front door shut behind their colleague, the hero’s shoulders loosened, and they let out a sigh.

They could see where their colleague was coming from. Really. But they just didn’t understand the villain like the hero did.  

And, frankly, it was none of their business.

The hero stared at themself in the mirror for a moment, then patted their cheeks a couple times. They had an amazing evening ahead of them, they just had to focus on that.

And try not to let the rest of it bother them.

(On the phone)

Sam: What happened

Dean: Remember when you told me not to burn down the bunker

Sam: You burnt down the bunker!!!

Dean: No I had the fire put out almost immediately. This is a success story

this is an experiment:

trying to prove something to my friends

REBLOG IF YOU THINK PANSEXUALITY AND BISEXUALITY ARE TWO DIFFERENT, VALID SEXUALITIES

Some memes because I was bored and there is too much memes about Herongraystairs and not enough about everybody else

“I haven’t danced in so long,” Saracen whispered, burying his face into Dexter’s chest. The sound of a piano echoed through the room, though in reality it was just a recording being played from Dexter’s phone.

“Me neither,” Dexter breathed, “I can’t remember the last time we’ve had peace and quiet.”

“I know,” Saracen affirmed, “We fight so hard.”

“And we deserve a break.”

Saracen nodded, and Dexter lifted his arm to spin him, and accidentally, Saracen misstepped, and his foot met Dexter’s toe. Instead of letting go, though, Dexter laughed and gripped Saracen tightly.

“Oh, sorry!” Saracen laughed.

Dexter shook his head, “You don’t sound sorry!”

Saracen stepped on him again, laughing, “I’m not.”

Dexter grinned and stomped on Saracen’s foot, gentle enough not to hurt him, “Ow! You did that on purpose!” Saracen kicked out, but Dexter leaned down and grabbed him, and picked him up.

“Hey!” Saracen cried, “What happened to dancing?”

“You tried to kick me!” Dexter exclaimed.

“You started it!”

Dexter ignored him and threw him onto the bed, and climbed up onto his waist. Saracen wrapped his arms around Dexter, who leaned down to kiss him, and whose hands were tightly gripping Saracen’s waist and travelling up his shirt.

“So much for dancing,” Saracen gasped, feeling the warmth of Dexter’s hands on his skin. Dexter laughed and kissed him again, but then he lowered himself beside Saracen.

“It’s late. We should sleep,” Dexter said, running his hands through Saracen’s hair, and Saracen rested his head on Dexter’s chest, and snuggled up to him.

“Fine,” Saracen muttered, having been looking forward to a long night.

Dexter, amused, said, “It’s okay. We have all day tomorrow.

This is a Saracen/Dexter fic.

(Saracen’s POV) (All the dead men are alive and Ravel didn’t betray them)

We’d fought for centuries side-by-side. I find it ironic, now, that we are side-by-side in the end. The earth is burning up.

We always knew we wouldn't be able to stop it one day, but now that it's here, I'm trying to remember why we ever fought in the first place. We weren't fighting for our own benefit; we were fighting for the benefit of the mortals. I still believe in the cause I fought for, but was it really worth my life? Was it really worth it to lose all of my friends?

Dexter and I lay on a silent lifeless hill, watching apprehensively. There was no one I would rather be next to me.

All my weight was leaning against him, and our hands were clasped tightly together. His arm wrapped around my chest.

We weren’t scared. We had resigned ourselves to the inevitability of death long ago. During most of our missions, death was always close by, watching and waiting. Despite this, there was still a sort of heaviness in my chest. Our situation wasn’t sad, but bittersweet. The world may be ending, but at least I am with the person I love the most. At least we won’t be alive to mourn for each other. I hate that I can imagine years into the future without Dexter, when the pain will be mild, and the memories will be dull and lacking in everything I once felt.

I may not be scared to die, but there is a small part of me that worries about what will happen afterwards. Will Dexter and I lose all our memories and feelings along with our bodies? Is this the end of us?

I turned my face up to Dexter. He was lost in thought, and his eyes were unfocused. He was staring at nothing in particular. I pulled his face down to face my own to grab his attention.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked. His eyes were locked onto mine.

“I wish,” he whispered, “that we didn’t spend so long fighting.”

“I wish we had more time together,” I agreed.

The heat was reaching us. It came mildly at first. The heat was hot enough to make me sweat, but it didn’t hurt yet. We only had a few minutes left though.

“I love you,” he breathed. And I told him I loved him back.

I am painfully aware of how small we are right now. There must be thousands of others spending these last moments with the love of their lives. Like I was. All of the sorcerers know about this, but we kindly kept the mortals out of it. They would spend their last few minutes confused and in pain, so maybe we should have let them be with their loved ones. I wasn’t sure what I would have wanted.

The heat was beginning to hurt. There was a burning sensation on my skin. A searing pain shot into my skin, and I cried out. Dexter was holding me harder than he ever had before, and I was doing so to him. was burning hot, and the pressure of his body made it hard to breath. Still, I didn’t let go. I couldn't.

It felt like time was slowing down. I was aware of every single sensation: the smell of sweat and burnt flesh, the feeling of warmth in Dexter’s chest, and the scalding pain. Even though my eyes were closed, shades of red and orange blurred into my vision. I could hear Dexter and I’s breathing. I could hear our heartbeats. I could hear sizzling. I could hear our cries of pain.

My skin was being burned off now. I couldn’t see it, but I knew. I could feel it. I was holding onto Dexter for dear life. His body was on top of mine, taking in most of the heat.

I wanted to look at Dexter again, but the pain was so unbearable that I could.

“Dex-” I managed. He didn’t answer me. “Dexter?” I choked. There was no answer. His arms had loosened around me.

He was probably dead, I realized.

(I wrote the happy ending on ao3)