me: what can possibly go wrong tho lmao
anxiety: im glad you asked
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
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Sweet Seals For You, Always

if i look back, i am lost
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tannertan36

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noise dept.
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@drbooknerd101
me: what can possibly go wrong tho lmao
anxiety: im glad you asked
Pissy Dean
@cw_spn | ew
I actually LOVE that these men are showing their age. Jared has those lines around his eyes now and fuck he looks like a hot dad. Just keeps getting better with age like a fine wine. Fuck me up.
God yes⌠they get better with age..
Spicy sexy bastards
3.13 | Ghostfacers
*rubs forehead* they give me a headache lmao
Dog!Dean⌠âcause @dean-winchesters-bacon actually asked for it xD
@maddiepants @sculptorofbeginnings @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @crashdevlin
WEđ RESPECT đALL đBODYđ TYPESđ ON đTHIS đBLOG
Random Castiel Headcanon
A/N: Cas + kittens = fluff overload @spookyladysdâ! Feel better, sweets!
Maybe itâs his intrinsic warmth that makes him so attractive; celestial proportions cramped within the confines of a human-sized vessel, Castiel radiates heat on par with the energy produced by a supernova - it makes for super cozy snuggle sessions. The puffballs of soft sweetness masquerading as kittens curling up in the angelâs lap, clawing up his legs and jostling for sleeping space, with other still unfearing of the felines climbing to the heights of his chestnut curls in conquest where he sits on the couch in the shelterâs cat room, seem to appreciate his supernatural sultriness as much as you do.
Cas on the other hand - he stopped smiling two playful swats of his nose, a not so delicate nip of the earlobe, a cat butt in his face, and a tail slung through his now squinting left eye ago. The pout of his mouth, wary gloss of his blues, and square of shoulders tensed to bolt, more closely resemble that of a cornered animal scouring sight lines for the nearest exit.
âAngel, relax, theyâre just kittens,â you purr, lifting the limp lump of a slumbering brown tabby from his thigh and cuddling her in the crook of your neck. She yawns and blinks her sleepy jade eyes at you; whiskers tickle your skin prompting an bubble of pure joy to burst as a laugh from your lips.
The angel canât help but be soothed by the sound of your uninhibited happiness. He smiles despite the orange tiger swinging from his tie and fraying the silk fabric with sharp talons. âYouâre getting attached,â he points out. âDean specifically said you could not bring a cat back to the bunker.â
âExactly.â Your smile brightens at the reminder; mischief erupts to crinkle your expression. âHe said I couldnât bring a cat home. He didnât say anything about cats.â
âCats?â Casâ pink mouth pops around the plural of puss. He peers down at the tenacious tiger nestled on the knot of his tie. The kitten sighs, settles, and shudders in steady vibrated contentment against the scruff of his neck.
âYep, cats.â You grin, fingers stretching to fondle the purring ball of fluff seeming to have chosen Cas as his consort. âI think he likes you.â
Cas gulps, thick gorge swelling to caress the tiny creature who only purrs louder in response to the angelâs uncertainty; uncertain, not of whether or not heâll go along with your subterfuge of semantics - heâd do anything to please you, including infuriate Dean - rather, the angel is uncertain of how to quash the elder Winchesterâs inevitable wrath over not one, but two furry bunker invaders.
Keep reading
CASSIE AND HIS NEW BORN ANGEL BABY
A/N: CastielXAngel!Reader welcome a perfect baby girl @morganas-pendragons.
Castiel worries the numb density of his vesselâs arms, nearly unresponsive under the weight of joyful shock as Sam shuffles the slippery squirming swaddled body into their cradled embrace, are inadequate to hold the newborn babe handed over to him. His knees weaken to hear her muted cries softening to contentment, to see the glimmer of grace flickering behind the enamel-glaze of irises bluer than his own, and to feel the tender newness of warm flesh beneath the calloused tremble of his fingertips where they caress her forehead.
âIs she alright?â you fret, through the beads of sweat blurring your vision, vessel exhausted by the effort of birth.
âTen fingers and ten toes,â Dean states, as if he himself were the proud papa, peering over and slapping a congratulatory clap upon his friendâs shoulder while flashing you a reassuring smile.
âAnd six wings,â Cas adds, voice edged in raw wonder as he glances between the Winchesters and you; a broad smile curves his mouth upward, for sheâs a seraph, just like her daddy, only she exists in perfectly feathered glory unfettered by failure, unfallen - a promise for the future.
Keep reading
is this what growing up is like
me at 14: wow, protagonists in media my age! how relateable!
me at 28: WHY ARE THERE SO MANY CHILD SOLDIERS? WHERE ARE ALL THE ADULTS? WHO LET THIS HAPPEN AND WHY ARE THEY NOT BEING PROSECUTED BY LAW WITHIN THESE FICTIONAL UNIVERSES
In the same vein:
Me at 14: oh protagonists that are 17-20-ish, theyâre basically adults, right?
Me at 28: Oh my Gods youâre babies who left you in charge?!
Ariel: Daddy, I love him! Me at 14: Yeah, girl, you tell him! Me at 30:
Marnie in Halloweentown: Iâm thirteen, okay? Iâm practically grown up! Iâm certainly old enough to make my own choices â right?
Me at 7:Â Right!
Me at 13: Right! âŚWell, okay, maybe not practically grown up, but still, right!
Me at 28:
You either die young or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
This is so true
Me as teenager: Yeah, girl, you hook up with that older guy, this is super hot!
Me as an adult: all of these men should be arrested
Me age 24 re-reading Harry Potter
the most unrealistic thing about harry potter
is that no teacher ever called him James by accident, or that Ron never was called âBill-, eh Charl-, no Per-, argh!â
As a younger sister who knows this struggle all too well: THIS IS REAL. Pretty sure 70% of my past teachers still think Iâm called what my sister is called in fact.
Imagine Fred being called Percy by McGonagall accidentally and then he gets so offended that he refers to her by âProfessor [insert any other name but McGonagallâ for the rest of the year, costing Gryffindor a considerable amount of points one at a time.
From then on, she vows to just call them all Mr Weasley.
Until Ginny comes along and she calls her Mr Weasley by accident and Ginny âaccidentallyâ calls her Sir and it starts again.
Itâs lightly off-topic but also slightly relevant but I have long cherished this mental image of Professor Snape saying something snappish to Harry in just the wrong tone of voice and Harry absentmindedly, wearily, and completely accidentally responding with, âYes, Aunt Petunia.â
Do you ever wonder if Steve has a hard time picking up the shield?
Like when itâs lying flat on the ground and itâs like super smooth tile is it like picking up a dime off the table? You just can never quite get your fingers under the edge?
@kat-lives yes!!! He makes this face when he sees it:
âBucky, get in here. I need your knife again!â
Why am I finding the image of Steve bending over with his stupid Dorito butt in the air to push it until he hits a wall so he can use that as a leverage so amusing
Places to find me
Ao3 - starspangledmanwithaplan [Completely up-to-date.] Dreamwidth - starspangledm_withaplan [Brand new, nothing is posted.] Goodreads - Star Barnes [Brand new, nothing is posted] Should I ever decide to finish / share my original works, I may utilize this site. Commaful - spanglemystars [Brand new, nothing is posted.] Email - [email protected] Pillowfort - starspangledmanwithaplan [Brand new, nothing is posted.] Instagram - starspangledtumblr [Brand new, nothing is posted.]
some of you have never hyperfixated on a show/franchise so hard that any mention of it in your vicinity sets you vibrating at the speed of sound and it shows
-Nikita Gill
fanfiction culture is reading a good fic but not remembering the title or author and then having to sell your soul to find it again
So I just had a thought
What if supernatural creatures donât exist anymore? What if they did once, but through the years, they slowly mixed in with humans?
You can see the blood of fairies in the way a ballet dancer hovers in mid air before he or she hits the ground. You can see it in the way that middle school girl never forgets when someone makes her a promise. You can see it in how that one little boy in the kindergarten class seems more comfortable in the forest on that field trip than the others.
You can see the blood of dryads in hikers who never trip over roots. You can see it in that suburban grandmother never lets any of her garden die. You can see it in that one kid who climbs a tree faster than his friends, barely looking at the branches as he goes.
You can see the blood of naiads in the way a professional swimmer seems to command the water to help them. You can see it in how a cross country runner needs a water break more often than his teammates. You can see it in the way that one girl in your class always has a water bottle on her desk.
You can see the blood of mermaids in a surfer who can be tossed around underwater for a long time without drowning. You can see it in a teenage boy who doesnât have to pretend to be unbothered by the pressure when he races his friends to the bottom of a swimming pool. You can see it in the little girl who wades into every stream she sees on a hike without quite knowing why.
You can see the blood of sirens in people who never have a problem with getting people to date them. You can see it in that soprano who can hit notes most of her fellows can only dream of. You can see it in the camp counselor who all the straight girls have a crush on, who can play guitar and sing better than any of the others.
You can see the blood of shapeshifters in the way an actor adjusts their personality to become their character with scary accuracy. You can see it in the subconscious, barely noticeable changes a tween girlâs eyes make to match her outfit better. You can see it in the way you always lose that one friend in a crowd if youâre not careful, because heâs just too good at blending in.
People who carry the blood of werewolves donât change with the full moon anymore, but you can still see it in the way your best friend always knows something is wrong, though even they donât know theyâre smelling the changes in your body chemistry. You can see it in the way that one guy always seems to eat more than the reasonable amount of red meat at an all-you-can-eat buffet. You can see it in the way that one werido never has a problem when the teacher turns off the lights before a PowerPoint presentation because her eyes adjust quicker and better than yours.
The blood of supernatural creatures may have mostly faded away. But if you look closely, you can still see it.
I feel a novel series beginning to take hold.
I love this
this is so beautiful, I actually have goosebumps!
@ursulaismymiddlename as our resident fae and werewolf storyteller extraordinaire, i implore you to have a read as i love these ideas. Xxx
This fake yarn is supposedly better for sheep.
Aimed at people who donât know where wool comes from, itâs 100% plastic. Yes, plastic.
So any garment you wash will release microfibres into the sea. Itâll never decompose.
Youâre supposed to believe that sheep shearing is violent and cruel. There are imbeciles out there that work in an unprofessional manner while shearing, but thatâs not the case overall.
Sheep donât suffer from having their fleece removed.
Left on, the fleece can become a home for fly eggs and the subsequent maggots which can eat the sheep. Chemical treatments are available to prevent that happening. Itâs much better for the sheep, the land and the farmer to avoid chemical use.
Donât be fooled. Wool is a sustainable material, one we should make more and better use of.
ALL THAT! ^^^
And ya know what? Iâm passionate about this kind of stuff, and I adore sheep, so buckle up, weâre talking about wool. Humans through history have bred modern sheep to have this impossibly thick wool coat that can become moldy and fly infested and gross and heavy and locked up if they arenât sheared. They can overheat and die if not shorn. Theyâll get maggots, as stated above. They will become nearly immobile and more susceptible to predator attacks because they canât run away or even really move. So whatâs the âhumaneâ solution here? To castrate all sheep and let them die off as a species while individually rotting and overheating and dying under their unshorn coats? Or to take care of the animals our species bred and use the wool that has to come off for the sheepâs health because otherwise itâs just sitting around?
Not to mention how amazing a fiber wool is! Itâs one of the few (if not the only, I canât recall currently) natural materials that will still keep you warm even when wet (which is why sheep donât need barns, necessarily). Itâs naturally water resistant, too, and that can be upped by simple treatment with waxes or oils. Itâs very sturdy, lasts a long time, somewhat cut-resistant, and moderately flame resistant. (Plastic based yarns like the above will burn and melt quickly, adhering to your skin and making the burns worse.) And sheep produce a lot of this amazing stuff for not a ton of input. Sheep are happy grazing and donât need special food to still make their wool (unlike cows that need a specific diet to make tasty milk), so as long as you keep them safe theyâre pretty much going to just munch whatever they can and grow their amazing fluff.
Thereâs a reason our ancestors in sheep country relied on wool over plant fibers like cotton and flax. Sure, they have their place, but wool is super sturdy, warm, easily renewable, doesnât require very specific growing conditions (just a healthy sheep), and one fleece will give you a crapton of fiber to spin. And you arenât hurting an animal to do it, youâre just giving them the required haircut! Nobody would advocate that you never get a cocker spainel groomed because it might stress the animal, or they might get nicked in the haircut process. Your spaniel will get nasty and matted if you donât treat its coat correctly, and that is much worse than the momentary stress of a surface nick or a grooming salon. Sheep arenât harmed or even that stressed by the shearing process.
I know it can look very scary to see a sheep being picked up and moved around while someone holds big scissors or a giant hair razor, but itâs not that bad for the sheep. They just kind of sit there and go âOh, time for haircut, ok, can eat after?â And the person shearing isnât in it to hurt the sheep. Why would you want to harm the animals you rely on for a living, at the bare minimum? And even if they do get nicked, itâs not really different from you getting a nick while shaving, except that sheep naturally secrete lanolin, which soothes skin irritation and has some mild antibacterial properties. So their little nicks and scrapes, even if they bleed and it looks scary on their white peach fuzz, donât hurt that bad and heal up super quickly. And for those who are worried about the sheep being cold without their woolâshearing is done in spring/summer, not winter. So the sheep are nice and cool for the hot weather, and theyâve grown back their coats by the time itâs getting cold again. Any sheep shorn in winter are kept in warm, indoor barns with the climate carefully controlled. But because sheep prefer to wander and graze than stay inside and eat hay, most production is done as it was in ye olde days: spring shearing, overwintering in their wool, roaming the great outdoors for munchies.
And no, lambs donât get sheared. The babies donât have enough wool to make it worth it, let alone the fact that most lambs are born right after shearing time. By the time it gets around to the next shearing season, theyâre a year-old sheep and are ready to be shorn for the first time.
Iâm sorry for the infodump, I just have a lot of feelings about natural and sustainable living, and sheep are an incredible resource, not to mention incredibly adorable. I also hate misinformation. Donât be fooled, gathering wool from sheep doesnât harm the sheep, and the wool produced is amazingly useful and is far more sustainable and ecofriendly than plastic!
(Also, here is a quick video showing the shearing process on hybrid hair/wool sheep, and hereâs one showing how it was/is done with hand shears.)
This this this this. Wool also protects you from fire. Also the simple fact that manmade fibres donât decompose like natural fibres do. They deconstruct, but their breakdown is different and essentially pollution if itâs in the wrong place. Wool is amazing.