Yes Another Playlist I Made. Not My Art On The Cover.

Played like a d-mn fiddle.

I really can't express to you how much I love the phrase "played you like a d-mn fiddle"

I don't know why, it's just funny to me to turn to someone who's just been bamboozled, and instead of sympathizing you compare them to an instrument of fools. For example: "...I feel stupid-" "..." "please don't, I'm ridiculed enough-" "He played you like a d-mn fiddle" "I'm leaving you"

I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. Yes, I'm a genius.

Dr.Spencer Reid; Criminal Minds, season 1 episode 1 - extreme aggressor

Start of Chapter seven, “Sins of the flesh”

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1298315374-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-7-cherry-pie

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/110146278

----

Dean stood at the top of the church on October 26th, 2008, getting prepared for the day’s sermon as usual; he had been on edge for days, trying everything in his might not to call Castiel to make sure that he was okay.

Castiel was an angel, after all; a tricking, pie-stealing, trust-breaking, barbarous hedge-born joitheaded liar of an angel, that is, and Dean was sure he would be just fine without him or Sam nearby to help him. Flipping through his bible to some of the tabs he had out in his bible to be able to find what he wanted to say, Dean heard the front door of the church push open.

Listening closely, the eldest Winchester quickly realized that it was just his brother who had decided to show up a tad early for the sermon. Dean listened as his brother’s footsteps came closer and closer to him, stopping right beside him just as he found the page in his bible that he was searching for.

“What’s up, Sammy?” The priest asked, tilting his head slightly in his brother’s direction. “Cas asked if he could come to see your sermon, since he’s, uh, picking up his books later on,” Sam informed him, though it seemed by Sam’s hesitant that he already knew what the answer to that question was going to be.

“Tell Mr.Novak that there are other churches across town that he may enjoy more,” Dean hummed with a sarcastic smile, still feeling rather upset by the whole ordeal. “Dean, you can’t keep running from-” “Castiel can fuck off, okay, Sam?” Dean snapped, frowning as he pretended to flip pages in his bible again. “Now if you would excuse me, I have things to do, Sammy,”

Dean felt a little bad as Sam sighed and turned away, disappointment radiating over him as he dragged his feet and retreated back to the house. The man could hear the back door slam as he turned another page of his bible, and he tried to remind himself that Sammy was upset with him too and needed a way to express that without too many repercussions. Despite the guilt hanging over him, Dean quickly got the rest of his planning done and stood beside the door to begin greeting guests as they flooded in.

Most were old voices, people who has helped raise Dean and Sam and aid their father in learning how to raise two children on his own, people who had brought the young boys meals when they realized their father left them home alone, just in case they hadn’t eaten in a few days.

Despite this, there were one or two new voices who dropped by to check things out, one has just moved to the area and the other just trying to figure out their religion or what they did and did not believe in. In both cases, Dean welcomed them with open arms and greeted the rest of the usuals before making his way back up to the front to begin the sermon...

I have always been a lot like my father. I have his hair, his face, his taste in music, his last name, some of his old jackets and shirts. I’ve often hated that I’m so much like him, as the only thing I don’t and will never have from him is his support. Now, however, I carry pocket watches and work towards education, a feat he never achieved. I do not use his last name, he doesn’t deserve the credit of my success. His music I’ve integrated along with violins and melodies that his rough and tough demeanors would never fit into. His clothing and jackets are reserved for when I make art, the paint that is left on the shirts show how I can make beautiful things as opposed to the blood that had previously stained them when he got into fights. I am very much like my father, but never will he be like me.

trans masculinity, when u have a shitty father, is abt taking pieces of him for yrself & reclaiming it & turning those things delicate & caring in ways he could never, ways that would disgust him. in his hand-me-down jacket, i carry bandages. the knife he used to skin deer is now the knife i use to sections apples to share with my brother

Destiel

Coffee_Sigh.Rho. · Playlist · 54 songs

Here, have a Destiel playlist I made. Enjoy, mfs. THE ART IN THE COVER IS NOT MINE!!!! I FOUND IT ON PINTEREST, IF YOU KNOW THE ARTIST THAT’S GREAT CUZ I DON’T AND DO NOT INTEND TO STEAL THEIR ART. Thank ya.

Candle or flame?

Shall I sit calmly and read in the candlelight, or shall I commit arson instead? No one shall ever know, for I shall never be caught.

Photo from pinterest.

To see into the soul of another, you must first see into your own.

Myself, Sighlas-Rhodes

You can love someone and still choose to say goodbye to them,

Tara Westover, Educated

The fridge.

Have y’all ever had that violent hunger that hits at like 3:14 am and you just have to stare into the empty low-lit abyss of your fridge, praying that somehow, some God somewhere may bless you with the meal you do not trully deserve, just to calm the angry growling of your impatient stomach? Just me? Aight.

I agree! I as a fanfic author I have found solace in being able to share my stories with others; it’s an oportunity I had never thought I would be able to do, let alone for free, and it’s provided a sort of home for anything my brain can come up with and get onto paper. It’s not just a website, it’s a place where authors can write freely and not be afraid to be blocked out and discriminized against; it’s been my escape for nearly five years now, and I do not know what I would do without it.

To you, maybe Archive of Our Own is "just" a website.

But to others, it's more.

It's a community.

It's a place where writers can be free to write what they want, without having to worry about it being taken down.

It's a place where people can cope, and vent, and do what they need, because guess what, it's a good fucking coping mechanism.

What Tiffany G. is promoting goes against the OTW's existence.

AO3 was created to prevent the censorship.

And hell, maybe it's not all about the website.

Maybe we're just fucking tired of gay, trans, queer, disabled, etc. shit getting censored.

This is all bullshit.

So yes, Archive of Our Own might be a website, but that doesn't mean it's "just" a website. That doesn't mean that the problems going on don't matter. This is real, it matters, and it means something.