Reasons Why The Harry Potter Movies Really Messed Up The Marauders

full offense but donald glover doesnt deserve to be cast as lando calrissian

Prompt- Dean sleep talks but instead of saying cute things his ramblings are fucking terrifying (ex: "why is the man staring at us?" "there is blood everywhere" etc.) Cas has probably lost 10 years of his life from this. Cute fluffy comedy.

(I’m sorry this took SO long! Work, life, yadda yadda yadda. ;) Here you go, thank you for the prompt!)

No roommate is perfect. Castiel knows this.

Every relationship requires reaching compromises and learning boundaries, and it’s easier for things for become strained when two people are encroaching on each other’s living space. And squeezing two complete strangers into a dorm room the size of a shoebox and expecting them to get along for a year? Well, in his opinion, it’s a miracle that the number of homicides on college campuses isn’t higher, especially when adolescent hormones, poor impulse control, and underdeveloped frontal lobes are factored into the equation.

So, all things considered, Castiel feels pretty lucky to have Dean as his roommate.

Sure, Dean can be loud and boisterous, and he listens to music too loudly, but it doesn’t bother Castiel too much after the first few weeks. Dean’s questionable “tastes” in music actually start to grow on him, despite his better judgment. He’s even started picking up words to some of the songs, because Dean has a habit of belting out a lyric and then pointing dramatically at Castiel to sing the next verse, and Castiel had gotten tired of the disappointed look on Dean’s face whenever he didn’t know the words, so maybe he had looked up some of the lyrics between his classes.

But it definitely goes both ways, because Dean can pretend he doesn’t like Castiel’s soft jazz or documentaries or fiber-heavy cereal brands, but Castiel hasn’t been fooled since the day he walked into their room and found Dean hunched over his laptop, eyes suspiciously red, transfixed by Castiel’s copy of March of the Penguins. Before he could even say a word, Dean had slammed the laptop shut, face flushing red, and snapped, “Shut up, Cas! Some of the eggs didn’t hatch! Stop laughing, Cas!”

And yes, Dean can be a little over-the-top about cleaning (before rooming with Dean, Castiel would’ve thought there could never be such a thing as too clean, but he’s learned differently), but he’s learned to live with it.

For example, when Castiel comes back from class and spots Dean on his hands and knees scrubbing the baseboards, the smell of Lysol hitting him like a brick to the face, he’s learned that Dean needs space, so he goes to the library for a few hours until Dean’s worked off whatever stress or anger he’s been keeping bottled up. Then he comes back, drags Dean away from wiping out the inside of their desk drawers, and takes him to The Roadhouse for a burger. If Dean decides to confide in him, good; but if not, he can still see the tension easing out of Dean’s shoulders as they sit in the familiar atmosphere, talking about classes, talking about everything and nothing, knees barely brushing under the table.

And, in an effort to do his part, Castiel has started being more mindful about picking up after himself and not leaving his damp towels on the floor. He even tries to remember to make his bed in the mornings, although he forgets more often than not in his haste to get ready for class (not that it really matters because it’ll be made when he comes back, anyways).

And okay, Dean is lively and social and charismatic, and there’s always strange people in their dorm room, but Dean always make a point to introduce Castiel to everyone and try to include Castiel in the conversations, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. Most of Dean’s friends are tolerable, and Castiel finds himself genuinely liking a few of them, such as Charlie and Benny, and even participating in political debates or Mario Kart games. And on the days that Castiel has a test or a paper due the next day, Dean will unceremoniously kick everyone out without Castiel even having to ask, good-naturedly yelling at everyone to “get lost, moochers, Cas has an Abnormal Psych test tomorrow and he’s gonna kick it in the ass!”.

And fine, Dean does party quite a bit on the weekends (or on the random Tuesday) and comes back in the middle of the night, inevitably waking up Castiel no matter how quiet he tries to be. But Castiel can’t even hold it against him, because when he tucks Dean’s drunk ass into bed and brings him a glass of water and some ibuprofen, Dean gives him the most profoundly grateful look that it’s almost humbling. Castiel doesn’t deserve a look like that for doing such a simple thing, a thing that any decent roommate would do.

Dean never says anything the next morning after these occurrences, but Castiel knows that Dean remembers, because Dean will find ways to make it up to him for the next week – just small things, like having coffee ready for him before his classes, or stocking up on Castiel’s favorite brand of peanut butter.

So no, Dean isn’t the perfect roommate, but Castiel doesn’t mind. He knows he’s not perfect either. But they have a good system, and they get along pretty well most of the time. There’s still some things that Castiel doesn’t understand – like why Dean insists that he’s dumb even though he’s excelling in his engineering classes – and they still have arguments, sometimes petty and sometimes not, but Castiel can’t imagine being roommates with anyone except Dean.

Although honestly, Dean hasn’t been just “a roommate” for a long time now. Castiel considers the term “best friend” to be much more fitting. Castiel lives with his best friend, and he thinks this makes him very lucky.

With one exception.

Dean talks in his sleep.

[Keep reading on Ao3]

Fleabag (2016 - 2019) / beetlejuices / “friend of mine”, krishnokoli / honeybee, trista mateer / honeytuesday / motion sickness, phoebe bridgers / chungking express (1994) / hope ur ok, olivia rodrigo / Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous / by langston hughes

You're drowning, and then they're there. They hold your hand and suddenly you forget that you were struggling for oxygen, that you're sinking deeper into the depths.

Then they leave your hand, swim away from you. Now you've sank deeper than you would've alone; theres no oxygen and you can't remember what way is up. All you remember is they're not there and how empty your hands feel. And you trying to fight your way and you finally crash the surface.

You look down and again they're there. You forget every struggle you made to reach the surface and go with them again. Just to remember how their hands feel in yours.

And so it continues...

“Sometimes I think people take reality for granted.” - Francesca Zappia, Made You Up

via @the-book-diaries

This is what gets me through my days

reminder: remus lupin was the first person sirius black had hugged in 12 years

Supernatural had the opportunity to do something great. To send a message of love and validation to a whole community. Not only to the part of the community that liked their show, but to all of us. But instead they decided to pander to the people, who never had to fight for their representation.

I support #TheySilencedYou, #TheySilencedThem and #TheyWillNeverSilenceUs and I'm in awe of all of you. Of your eloquence, passion, coordination and decisiveness. And I feel like your message goes beyond this particular TV show and the CW.

It's about protesting a pattern of disrespect towards otherness in Mainstream Media. It's about demanding meaningful, unmistakably queer representation, that enables discourse and furthers understanding in a heterogenic Audience. It's about asking Networks to not only hire diverse staff but to also give them the freedom to tell their stories the way they want to. It's about telling creators to own up to the inherent messages they leave us with in the end.

And that's inspiring and should be celebrated.

Stories matter.

from the growing-up itch, by kc c.

I think I learned love from a hunter and all I do now is listen for gunshots.

Alison Kronstadt, Bred In Captivity