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@a-peanut-with-to-much-time
Same energy
trifecta
quadrifecta
âTortillaâ would match to âtortaâ, whichâŚ.is a real Spanish word that just means cake, yâall.
Tortillas are little flat cakes.
in addition, mosca means fly
mosquito does mean little fly
lmfao
âdumpâ is an old adjective that meant âdoughyâ so âdumplingâ is basically âlittle doughy thingâ
Yes but thatâs not funny.
Doro still at large
Never Look Away
Summary: Dean and Cas are forced to redefine their relationship as a decade old secret between them finally comes to light.
Dean jumps up, strangely offended.
âOkay, first of all, youâve seen my browser history. Your true form doesnât even make my top 10 weirdest things Iâve jerked off to, so thatâs a load of bullâŚâ
Notes: This is the result of listening to Never Look Away by Vienna Teng for 10 hours gay.
ââ-
Careful not to wake him, Dean traces the outlines of Casâs body illuminated by the reddish hues of the morning sun with his fingers. He can hardly believe itâs only been a year since they defeated God and pulled Cas out of the Empty with the promise of a love returned.Â
So much has changed in such little time. With the illusion of free will no longer binding Dean to a greater destiny and with Cas and Deanâs own feelings out in the open he finally allowed himself to want all the things he denied himself for so long, always prioritizing other peopleâs happiness over his own. Now he has it all. A house, a job, a family, a life, Cas. It was so hard at first, to stop looking for hunts and letting go of Sam so he too could start his own life with Eileen by his side, but in the end Dean had been too tired to fight his own desires any longer and gave in.
Fuck the voice of his father telling him his only purpose in life was to watch out for Sammy and fuck the man John wanted him to be. He helped save this world so he gets to live in it in whatever way he wants to and what he wants is to live his cheesy apple pie life waking up every day next to the man he loves.
Cas stirs in his sleep and Dean watches the translucent wings flutter against the light seemingly drinking up the morning sun. They used to be pitch black back when they first met. A beautiful sight, yet not quite fitting the man Cas would eventually become.
girl help my mutuals are sexualizing the senior citizen again
is it ever not?
Someone please write a deancas AU with Jimmy as the twin
Dean Winchester had flown on an airplane exactly once in his entire life.
Heâd always known he didnât trust the things, but once the noises started and the turbulence really decided to steal the spotlight, his lungs seized up and he was ninety-nine percent sure that he had, in fact, been the recipient of a heart attack right then and there.
Nothing would ever come close to that level of sheer adrenaline and panic - but now, sitting a few tables away from Him and fiddling with a piece of paper that his own number pre-written on it⌠he was starting to feel dangerously close to the sky again.
Rejection was⌠fine. It was fine.
Hell, this wouldnât be the first time heâd ever been rejected and it probably wouldnât be the last - but that was all a territory he was familiar with.
Dean had been out as bisexual for a solid year at this point, and while he was pretty damn confident in himself about most things, he hadnât done this yet.
Not with a guy.
He let out a breath and stole another glance at the man whoâd nearly made him trip over himself the first time they made brief eye contact in the hallway.
Blue eyes had never felt so blue.
The guy was currently in Library Mode, as Dean had been fondly calling it in his head. His hair was adorable frazzled as he poured over a mountain of books and the wrinkled graphic-tee he sometimes wore was a reference Dean didnât understand - and if he chewed on his lip any more often Dean was going be one hundred percent sure of another heart attack.
He liked Library Mode.
He liked him a lot.
There was also Lunch Mode.
The Lunch Mode of his favorite blue-eyed man was a more put-together version of Library Mode. His hair was combed back neatly, and he would mostly wear button-up shirts and slacks, or occasionally a very nicely pressed sweater vest.
Deanâs current theory between the two Modes was that he had a class on certain days that he was supposed to dress up for and couldnât be bothered when he didnât have go in.
He liked that theory, because it meant that maybe Library Mode was the true self - and Dean really liked the endearing intensity from Library Mode.
Dean licked his lips as he ran a finger along the paper heâd ripped from his notebook - the one with his number on it - and replayed the scenario in his head over and over.
Iâll just go over, say something witty, give him the number, and walk away. Yeah. I can do that. Simple enough.
Dean closed the book heâd only been pretending to read and stood up.
He was going to do this.
His feet didnât move.
Library Mode briefly glanced in his direction from behind his fortress of books, and Dean turned on his heels and walked out of the library.
Dammit.
Next time. Heâd do it next time.
-
Next time was Lunch Mode.
Dean was barely picking at the food heâd brought as he tried not to creepily stare at the man heâd become infatuated with over the past few months.
This was ridiculous.
He didnât even know his name.
And thatâs why youâre going to go talk to him, you fucking idiot, he told himself. Heâs just a guy. The worst he can say is no.
Dean swallowed, and looked up again.
Lunch Mode had product in his hair and a sweater vest on today. He looked as good as always, though Dean did find himself missing the graphic tee and the mussed hair just a little. Heâd always thought he seemed a little bit more approachable when he was panicking in the library along with everyone else.
Number.
He had to do it.
Dean stood with intent for the second time that week and before the rapid beating of his heart could do anything to persuade him otherwise, Dean strode over to Lunch Modeâs table and plastered on a smile he hoped didnât look as manic as he felt.
Lunch Mode looked up, tilting his head to the side adorably.
âCan I help you?â He asked.
Dean cleared his throat.
âUh, yes,â he fumbled for the paper and set it down next to the plate of food, âthis is for you.â
Dean paused, trying to think of something - anything clever to say, but nothing came.
Instead, he nodded and walked out of the lunchroom.
That had gone well.
-
Hey! This is Jimmy from lunch! I just wanted to say that I respect your confidence to be able to come up and give me your number. Youâre very attractive, but unfortunately I am straight. BUT I am an identical twin and heâs gay if youâd like his number.
Dean stared at the text message, his face growing more and more red with every passing minute.
What were the chances?
Was it rude to say yes? Was it ruder to say no? Did he want to yes or did he just want to go and dig a hole and bury himself in it for the rest of eternity?
He continued to stare at the message.
This was⌠technically the best possible outcome for a rejection, right? A soft no, but also a possibility with someone who looked just like him.
Dean shook his head in disbelief.
Oh god, sorry dude. But uh, honestly? Yeah thatâll work haha.
Dean sent it before he could overthink it.
Cool, Iâll let him know!
A few minutes later, he received a text from a different number.
Is this Dean?
Deanâs heart jumped into his throat as he slung his backpack over one shoulder and began walking down a school hallway, just to have something to do to get rid of all of his nervous energy.
Ha. Yeah. Are you the twin?
âThe twinâ. Fuck, he should have said something better.
I am the twin. If thisâŚmakes you uncomfortable I understand, you know. You donât need to text me to be polite to my brother.
Was he a little worried about what the twin was going to be like? A little, but it wasnât like he knew Jimmy all that well anyway. All he knew about Jimmy was that sometimes he liked a good graphic tee, and sometimes he liked to dress up a little.
Nah, itâs just funny. You go to the same school as us?
I do. Iâm in the library if youâre on campus.
Dean let out a steadying breath.
Sure. Be there soon.
-
Sitting at his usual table, were two identical-looking men.
One in a sweater vest with his hair slicked back, and one in a wrinkled t-shirt and jacket with hair that looked as if fingers had been stressfully combing through it for years.
Dean gaped.
Oh.
The twins looked up at his arrival, and the better dressed one, Jimmy, smiled.
âAh, Iâll leave you guys to it, then.â
He winked at the two of them as Deanâs brain was still scrambling to put together rest of the incredibly obvious puzzle it should have been able to see all along.
The messier twin cleared his throat awkwardly.
âAh, hello.â He said, in a voice much lower than Jimmyâs but he couldnât tell if it was just from disuse. âIâve seen you around before, havenât I?â
âThereâs two of you.â Dean said, with dawning comprehension. âYouâre the - thereâs two.â
The twin smiled like this wasnât the first time this had happened.
âCorrect. Iâm Castiel, by the way.â
Dean slowly sat down on the other side of the table and stuck out a hand once he could gather himself enough to smile in return.
âNice to finally meet you, Castiel. Iâm Dean, and Iâm an idiot.â
Castiel took the offered hand and shook it once.
âHello, Dean. Luckily for you, I like idiots.â
Omfg that is perfect ahhhh what do I need to do to get 10k words about this relationship development and like Jimmy eventually telling this story at Dean and Casâ wedding while giving his best man speech!
*snergkh*
*whispers and gigglesnorts*
OMG this is awesome!!
*high-pitched squeeing noises ensue*
This just hit me. Iâm so Southern my family has a matriarch and no one in the family knows for sure how old she is. We all also got into a heated debate about the existence of her glass eye (still not confirmed). Sheâs in her 90s- we think- beat cancer, outlived two husbands, had seven children and has outlived three of them, survived The Great Depression, and either her dad or her grandfather was a full blooded Cherokee Indian⌠possibly the tribeâs leader but no one really knows for sure.
She also once lit into my dadâs school bus driver, cussing him black and blue about how he treated the kids and didnât realize she had a butcherâs knife in her hand until he RAN away. She didnât have any more trouble out of him.
âŚI wish to know how and why this just occured to you, please
I had an eloquent reason but really what it boils down to is I think Mamaw is a cryptid. The running joke in the family is that Mamaw will be at the end of the world with the twinkies and the cockroaches.
Iâm not sure itâs a joke anymore, I think itâs a premonition.
Two years ago one of my cousins wanted to bring her wife to thanksgiving and Joe was all âew no wayâ and Mamaw stood her ass up and said âWho the hell do you think you are, saying who is and isnât welcome in my house? This ainât your house- you get out! I say who is welcome and YOU is not welcome. Now SCAT!â while slapping at him and then sat back down and asked my cousin if her wife ate catfish. Joe tried to come back in and she popped the tennis balls off her walker and threw them at him until he left
No matter how old Mamaw gets, her hair is still solid black. She still hasnât gone gray and sheâs never once died her hair. Her kids all have heads full of gray hair, and my father- her grandson- is starting to go gray. Mamaw? Nothing. I swear she looks exactly the same as she did when I was a kid.
Mamaw got Covid-19. She presented with symptoms and was rushed to the ER with a dangerously high fever and next to no oxygen. The doctors took note of her age (sheâs apparently 93 as best she can guess) and her vitals and, well, Mamaw wasnât gonna make it past Monday.
By Sunday night the fever was gone and she was complaining that the hospital didnât get WWE and she was gonna âmiss my wrasslin shows!â.
She was home and completely fine by Tuesday. By Wednesday she was calling up the anti-maskers in our family just to call them idiots and hang up.
bro i dont think youâre Mamaw is human
#she sounds like the type that#they have a saying about:#she wonât die until God and the devil come to an agreement about who has to take her
My grandparents are baffled when we just donât care about certain things. The last time we did a socially distanced lunch they were complaining that our neighbor keeps really old broken cars that he likes to work on in his front yard and we were like âYeah, and?â and they didnât know how to respond to that.
Like the very idea that we would just mind our own business and tolerate mildly annoying behavior from other people is like rocket science to them. They just canât comprehend it.
My mum never has anything nice to say about modern music. Itâs always âthis song is shallow nonsenseâ. Yeah maybe I want to listen to shallow nonsense. What about it
A regular conversation I keep having with my mom:
âUgh, look at that girl. Tattoos everywhere.â
âSo what?â
ââŚ.Well I think it looks ugly.â
âShe didnât get them for you.â
That is a great response, I am using it forever now, thank you
I would like to give a shout out to Australia for providing us with the funniest Trump headline I have ever seen
I always know when something fucky happens in the US because this gets a burst of rbs
Would have loved to see Sam realize he's never gonna be normal and then LEAN IN to his real weird girl tendencies.
Sam and Cas seeing how far they can throw each other with telekinesis while Dean is off on a hunt one week and then having to sit there and lie about why they're missing some pieces of furniture and Cas is the first to crack and confess so Sam launches him through the ceiling and Dean is just like
Sam (little brother with ungodly psychic power): CAS HAS A CRUS-
Castiel (shield of God and ancient celestial being):
hobbits were the peak of civilization in tolkien verse. jobs were Gardening, Stall At The Farmerâs Market, or Mailman. Shoes OFF, capris ON, 6 meals a day, high and fat as all shit. Names like Daddy TwofootâŚ.why the fuck are we horny for elves
I love seeing post about how we still havenât processed Casâs confession cause same but imagine just IMAGINE how Dean is feeling?
Some mornings heâll just have to stop whatever heâs doing and catch his breath. He staggers a little as he walks and leans against the wall until he can think again. In the middle of grocery shopping heâll just leave his cart and practically run to his car cause itâs safe in his car. While eating Deanâs stomach will turn and he wonât be able to eat anymore. His head down in his hands as he takes shaky breaths.Â
That is until Cas comes back to him. Then those moments arenât as scary or unbelievable. No those scary moments of âShit, he loved me.â turned to soft âWow, he loves me!â excitement. And now whenever Dean just stops and has to catch his breath itâs because Dean sees Cas doing mundane things probably and falls in love with him all over again.Â
You ever think about how crows are acting not unlike how early humans probably did and you're just like. Oh ok
I saw a Thing one time about how the earliest sign of civilization is a healed femur because that shows that we were taking care of each other because if we Didn't a broken leg would mean you Die because you can't. Do things
And I was thinking about this and I remembered also seeing an article about this one mated pair of crows where one of them broke its beak and thus couldn't properly feed itself on its own. So the other one helps
So basically I have connected the two dots ("you didn't connect shit") I've connected them
And also they not only use tools but teach each other how to construct them, so uh
Really makes you think
Realistically I know immortality would kinda suck but I'd love to see where crows are going with this
That cut was completely horrifying
do you ever type a message to someone but halfway through it you think âwhy am i sending this, they donât even careâ and just delete the whole thing
This is objectively the most powerful reply you can put on someoneâs post.
Studies suggest How may I help you officer? is the single most disarming thing to say and not Whatâs the problem? Studies suggest itâs best the help reply My pleasure and not No problem. Studies suggest itâs best not to mention problem in front of power even to say there is none. Gloria Steinem says women lose power as they age and yet the loudest voice in my head is my mother. Studies show the mother we have in mind isnât the mother that exists. Mine says: What the fuck are you crying for? Studies show the baby monkey will pick the fake monkey with fake fur over the furless wire monkey with milk, without contest. Studies show to negate something is to think it anyway. Iâm not sad. Iâm not sad. Studies recommend regular expressions of gratitude and internal check-ins. Enough, the wire mother says. History is a kind of study. History says we forgave the executioner. Before we mopped the blood we asked: Lord Judge, have I executed well? Studies suggest yes. What the fuck are you crying for, officer? the wire mother teaches me to say, while studies suggest Solmaz, have you thanked your executioner today?
â Solmaz Sharif, âSocial Skills Training,â published in Buzzfeed
Hanging out with old people rules because after a while they trust you enough to confess to murder totally unprompted
Wait what.
Sometimes old ladies had to kick the ladder out from under their stepfathers when they were girls and thatâs valid
oh, my little old lady murder story was her replacing the medication in her abusive husband's capsules with rat poison.
"back in the day, our grandmothers worked on their marriages and didn't get divorced!" nah, friend, they COULDN'T get a divorce so sometimes they killed their fuckin husbands. ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
My grandma murdered her first husband the first time he beat their daughter.
My college was next to an assisted living facility and one time we went over there to draw peopleâs portraits so we could get practice drawing older people. The lady I was drawing idly told me that she "dealt quite handily with her first husbandâ while making a stabbing gesture. Five minutes later she requested I make sure not to draw her double chin. I honored that request.
So when I was a child my grandmother told all these great stories about growing up in the Alaskan wilderness. Amazing bad ass stories about her and my great-grandmother. I recently asked my mom why my great-grandmother moved from Texas to Alaska in the first place. Turns out my Great-grandfather was abusive to my great grandmother for years and she lived with that until the first time he hit my grandmother, who was like three at the time, my great-grandmother got him very drunk and beat him to death then moved to Alaska to hide from the cops.
this post constantly gets better
The mad energy of this post *chefâs kiss*
when i get top surgery and i can wear my shirts a little bit too unbuttoned itâs over for you hoes
