Them: What's Your Gender

Damn straight

currently writing my dissertation on Holmes and sexuality and thinking about how wild it is that Elementary a show where Watson is a woman and Holmes a man (meaning they are statistically as a male and female lead of a show incredibly likely to end up having something romantic between them), still managed to make Holmes and Watson more obviously friends than BBC Sherlock in which they are both men and just so ridiculously Not Friends that it is almost funny, like it is genuinely mind blowing. like I’m sorry but how hard is it to just not make them gay if you don’t want to make them gay like my guys

I have only seen this post as a screenshot before.

Hey is the build a bear employee supposed to force us to jump up and down or are we getting hazed

That was beautiful. I have no words...

mornings are for lovers ~ a quick destiel drabble, 780 words.

Early morning, still veiled by fog. Dean has just pulled the Impala up to a diner that looks to be straight out of the ’60s, complete with teal and chrome trim. Sam is first to get out of the car, stretching his arms above his head in hopes to pop his spine. Dean and Cas lag behind, slow-moving and muttering complaints under their breath about it being too early and I need some damn coffee.

Used to the two being barely functional before their caffeine fix, Sam waits patiently, hands now stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. That is, until Dean waves him off, still standing by the driver’s side door, and says, “Go on ahead, Sammy. I need to talk to Cas.”

There’s no further explanation, just Dean staring back at Sam expectantly. Sam raises an eyebrow at him – a little surprised that Dean even managed to speak coherently this early – but relents. “Okay,” Sam says, if a little hesitantly, and goes into the diner alone, getting a table for the three of them.

He’s seated in a booth that looks out the front windows, orders a coffee for himself (he doesn’t know how long they’ll be, and Dean will complain if his has gone cold), and again, waits for the other two to join. He passes the time by scrolling through news articles on his phone, flicking occasional glances at Dean and Cas where they stand next to the Impala, their heads inclined towards one another – although that’s all Sam can see from his spot.

Maybe ten minutes pass, possibly more. When Sam raises his eyes to check on the two outside, they’re caught in an embrace; Cas’ arms are around Dean’s shoulders, Dean has fistfuls of Cas’ coat, like they’re holding on. Sam averts his gaze – something about the moment seemed too… It’s not for Sam to see.

It’s another couple minutes, though no more than five, before Dean and Cas make it into the diner, coming over to Sam and sitting on the same side booth. Sam takes note of Dean’s reddened cheeks, the near bashful way they keep looking at each other from under their lashes, the soft smile Cas has.

“Did you order yet?” Dean asks Sam, and clearly they weren’t going to talk about what just happened.

“Just coffee,” Sam answers, sliding his gaze to Cas for a second, who keeps fiddling with something on his left hand, out of view from Sam.

The waitress comes up to their table, and Sam lets the questions bubbling around his mind drop for now.

It doesn’t click for Sam until later, while they’re driving out on some back road. Or, well, it became more obvious. Cas is in the passenger seat with a book in his lap. He reaches over to Dean, dropping his arm over the length of the back rest, hand on Dean’s shoulder. Cas’ fingers begin to sift idly through the hair at Dean’s nape, and Sam sees it.

A ring.

Oh. Oh.

Sam is quiet for a few moments, letting this new information sink in. Sam has never seen his brother happier, or more at ease, and the same goes for Cas. He’s happy for them. “Congrats, you guys,” Sam says eventually, and he means it.

It’s Cas who turns to look at him, smiling more with his eyes. “Thank you, Sam,” he says, and Sam smiles back.

Dean catches Sam’s eye in the rear view mirror. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Sam. He nods, once, giving his silent support, and then Dean returns his gaze back to the road – though Sam can see from the movement of his cheek that he’s smiling.

~

Dean and Cas were married on a Thursday morning in the parking lot of some nondescript diner, Dean pressing Cas back to the driver’s side door of the Impala. For others, it was hardly perfect, but to Cas and Dean, it was more than they ever thought they would get. Their vows to each other were only for them to hear. Dean had spoken his in the hollow under Cas’ ear, against his skin, heart so full he felt close to erupting, but Cas held him together – like always. Cas, for his part, said his in Enochian first, then in English, hands cupping Dean’s jaw, words whispered against Dean’s mouth. Then they’d kissed, soft and chaste, and Dean pointedly ignored the stinging in his eyes, while Cas’ thumbs stroked over his cheeks, murmuring softly in Enochian.

It was theirs, and it was good.

Yay yay yaay yaAY YAAY YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY?!!!!!!!!!

You waited. And here we see Crowley and Aziraphale, inside the bookshop talking to... well, that would be telling. Welcome to Season 2. This time it's ineffable.

*Arsonist's lullaby plays in the background*

If the Hannigram fics aren’t horny in the way Hoizer does it then what’s even the point?

Reblogging for the best addition ever

Sometimes fanfiction is a love letter to the original canon, sometimes it’s just that one telegram that says “Fuck you. Strongly worded letter to follow”.

Why'm I being called out like this

*minor inconvenience happens*

me: I need to rewatch Hannibal

Cobb's limbo

Inception ends in a cliffhanger. Where the totem spins and is about to stumble (or not). The intensity of such an uncertainty is paramount, but we did make our peace with it. It's a unique feeling of homecoming that plays with our minds, when he ignores the totem and proceeds greet his children. For in his mind, he's home. Not the physical presence, but the mental satisfaction. Limbo it might be, but he's not leaving. For he's where he feels home, the place he has built, nurtured and guarded. This is his zero. His beginning. His end. Our limbo is the reflection of our circle of comfort. Our view of what makes us feel at home. Getting out of it is the real world. The adventure. The difficulty of surviving. So do you stay in limbo? Do you leave? Or do you bring in new elements in and make then your own?

Imma borrow this. With credits of course.

Life gave me lemons

So my dadi made an aachar out of it

Couldn't help but reblog