Bbarneslut - Essie

there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter

tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on

truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that

dean absolutely prints out a picture of cas and puts it at the top of the Christmas tree and grins at cas and says “look, my angel on top of the tree” and cas rolls his eyes and is like “really, dean?” and dean is laughing brightly and he’s so damn proud of himself

what was bucky calling himself in romania? did he use the romanian variant of James (Iakob) when he talked to people and had to give them a name? how did he even learn romanian? does he have romanian heritage? did he learn it during the war? how did he pay rent? was he working in construction or as a line cook or something? did he have a little old lady as a neighbour who thought he was too skinny and lonely and forced him to eat with her at least once a week? did she make him help with cooking so he could make the food himself? did he go to the orthodox church with her? did the local kids like him? did he cut his hair himself or did he brave going to a barbers to keep it at a length he liked? did he like talking to market sellers about fruit because it was an easy conversation and a way for him to get used to socialising?

i have SO many questions about bucky in romania

Happy Hour

Summary: The reader returns home after a night at the club realizing she’s taken something that she shouldn’t have. Her neighbour, Dean, notices when she’s practically locked out of her house and spends the night with her.

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Quote B: @supernatural-jackles​ 6. “I dare you to kiss me.” Neighbour AU @spnfluffbingo​

Word Count: 3,187

Warnings: drugged!reader, drugs, vomiting, implied/light smut, mature themes, kissing/cuddling, pining, language, mainly fluff, a little angst maybe

A/N: Don’t do drugs, this is pure fiction. Written for @spnfluffbingo​ and @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

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Myself included tbh

Dean Winchester acting normal around handsome men challenge

bonus: boner for cas all fresh and cleaned up

I'm just -

we are officially entering the year 2 A.D. (after destiel)

Imagine showing up to work one day and people are like "jesus fucking christ there's a corpse in here", herd you to the back room and everyone who sees you also agrees that there is now a dead body where you are sitting, with the appropriate amount of shock and disgust about it. You figure it's some kind of a prank that they're pulling, but also the people that you know aren't into pranks, or aren't very good actors, are treating you like a corpse. They go weirdly back and forth between talking about you as if you're not there, and politely asking you to stay still while they figure out who you're supposed to call in case of a dead body randomly appearing.

Paramedics show up, study you thoroughly and agree that while they can't see any apparent sign of death, you are, indeed, dead, and ask you to climb aboard the ambulance. You're taken to the temporary corpse storage that hospitals have.

On the way there you ask them whether this kind of shit happens often, and while they won't look at you, the paramedics agree that they've never had a talking corpse before, though they won't question the fact that you're moving on your own.

You're eventually led to a morgue, where you're shown a slab to lay on, and at this point you don't really even question it, you just climb onto the Corpse Shelf and lay down, maybe have a little nap, with no idea what's going to happen next.

Then you wake up to someone walking into the morgue, who has the shit scared out of them when you move, and they're like "dude what the fuck, you're not supposed to be here, this place is for storing dead bodies" and when you're like "aw man sorry I thought I was a dead body" they have no idea whether you're joking and they don't care, you're just chased out of there.

And you just kinda go home and take a shower, show up to work normally the next day and nobody questions it.

And basically that's probably how those ants feel when scientists spray them with the Pheromone That Dead Ants Smell Like, and just hang out at the dead-ant-pile until the smell wears off.