malfeyvii:

adventuretimeismysecretaddiction:

dragonessofthelights:

obsessedwithfrozen42:

drybananahippyhat:

scoutprouvaire:

amazonpoodle:

what if the reason nobody can tell fred and george apart is because they really are interchangeable

not in a ~it doesn’t matter~ way but like. molly and arthur used to worry that fred and george might turn out to be squibs because they weren’t doing any accidental magic as children, but they were, THEY TOTALLY WERE, it just wasn’t anything flashy, instead they were just like idly switching bodies all the time

and like sometimes it doesn’t make much of a difference, whatever, wake up in the opposite bed you went to sleep in, but it gets like dangerous and weird if you’re on a broom or in the pond or letting your mum teach you to cook or trying to be mad stealth, so for a long long time everybody presumes they’re clumsy maybe-squibs and that they’re doing their twin lying thing when they try to explain what’s going on, so they learn to handle the issue their ownselves

they just. don’t go anywhere without the other. they start each day deciding which body is going to be which (because at this point they really don’t know which body is technically fred and which is technically george), and they learn to reorient FAST when they switch, and what things set them off, and eventually they learn how to act like nothing’s up even when one of them’s in the air and one’s on the ground or whatever, and then they burn past that til they can finish each other’s sentences — til they can switch midsentence — til they can play beater together — til they can switch in a split second in the middle of a game — til there’s room for other kinds of accidental magic to start showing up

at hogwarts they keep each other awake in history of magic by switching back and forth. in potions they take turns brewing and keeping lookout for the slytherins. in transfiguration and charms they keep their grades up because one of them will always get a spell right on the first try so they switch and make it look like both of them do and then they practice on their own later in private. it keeps the mystery alive.

at first they thought lee was just a lucky guesser but no, lee can always tell one twin from another twin — it’s not exactly telling fred from george, because while they are definitely two distinct personalities neither one of them feels like fred all the time or george all the time — but lee knows who he argued with yesterday or who he lent his notes to or who’s best to ask for help in astronomy and who’s best at runes. 

the weasleys are pretty bad at it for the longest time, but then bill comes home from his first year cursebreaking and he can tell, and over a holiday he teaches his trick to charlie so charlie can tell. alicia and katie and angelina can tell. the twins honestly don’t know if oliver can tell or not; so long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to on the quidditch pitch he doesn’t really care about much else. harry can tell. luna can tell. tonks can tell.

the problem is there’s no way for this to end happily

YES THERE IS

THERE IS INDEED A WAY FOR THIS TO END HAPPILY LISTEN UP

so after fred dies, george hates being trapped in one body, feels claustrophobic, misses fred so much he thinks it might drive him insane

but then one day

george blinks and he’s somewhere he wasn’t a second ago, he’s in a place full of white light and he can’t orient himself, can’t ground himself, feels dizzy and sick and overwhelmed but it only lasts for about thirty seconds.

then he’s back in his own body. 

and he looks down at his chest, his legs, his arms, there’s an ear missing so it’s definitely still his living body, but there’s something written on his arm, scrawled in messy quill ink. 

“i love you. i miss you.”

george flips out, washes off the ink and immediately writes a message in reply— “how’s death going?”

he walks around with that message written on his arm for weeks, always keeping a quill pen somewhere nearby, waiting, waiting, before it finally happens again. the switch. george is alive, so he can’t handle being in the afterlife, he feels dizzy and sick and it’s the worst feeling in the world, but it doesn’t last long, and when he gets back to his living body, there’s a long message from fred waiting on his right thigh, the ink still drying.

this goes on for years, never as often as either twin would like, but it’s enough. fred helps george figure out how to propose to angelina, fred helps plan the wedding. sometimes it’s fred in george’s body when angelina kisses her husband. sometimes she suspects, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest.

it gets easier as george gets older. the times when he switches into fred’s afterlife don’t hurt as much. he almost feels comfortable there, almost feels oriented. he knows he’s getting closer to dying.

then when george is past ninety, lying on his deathbed, he writes a careful message on his palm. “i’m coming soon. where are you?”

they switch, it lasts for almost five minutes this time, and when george gets back into his own body, he sees the instructions fred wrote over his heart.

“you’ll wake up in king’s cross station. take the second train and get off at the third stop. i’ll be waiting.”

THIS IS THE BEST GODDAMN HARRY POTTER HEADCANON I HAVE EVER READ I AM C R Y I N G

Oh my god. I don’t know what to do with all these feels

@ouagleekslayingfrozencreampuffs I’m crying REAL tears bae

this made me cry

12.07 coda

ozonecologne:

Sam isn’t much up for talking after tonight. That’s cool, it’s understandable. That move with the door earlier was pretty sweet, so Dean lets him have the space he needs. He’s been a little touchy lately anyway.

While Sam takes a lap to burn off some steam, Dean looks over at Castiel.

Crowley rocks back on his heels. “Well. I’m going to go… find some ice. For the eye,” he mumbles, and then he shuffles away.

“You sure you’re ok?” Dean asks, once he’s sure that Crowley’s gone.

Castiel’s shoulders sag. He rubs at his eyes. “Sure.”

Dean reaches out to grab Castiel’s elbow, before he thinks better of it and shoves his hand into his pocket instead. Castiel’s got a bloodstain on the collar of his coat. Dean nods at it. “That’ll come out, right?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel sighs.

Dean scowls. “Alright, fine, be a bitch about it,” he grumbles.

“Can we not do that tonight?” The request is weary and sad, but totally heartfelt. No more fighting, please. The cut on his cheek drips sluggishly still.

Keep reading

chevrolangels:

“Can’t believe you called me third-tier.”

“Well, I can’t believe you called me a lumberjack.”

“There are other patterns in the world besides plaid, Dean.”

Sam just rolls his eyes and sticks his earbuds in.

“And why is my name like this?”

“Like what?”

Cas shoves something into Dean’s face and Dean smacks his hand away, scowling at him in the rearview.

“Cool it, I’m driving—”

They squabble all the way to the next light, and Cas leans forward again, dangling Dean’s phone in front of his face. Dean tries to uncross his eyes, squinting at the four tiny letters on the screen.

“Uh…”

“Cass,” Cas says impatiently. “Cass.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, shrugging. “So?”

Cas heaves a long-suffering sigh, falling back.

“It’s Castiel, not Casstiel. A second ‘s’? Where did that even come from—”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Dude, calm down.” 

“It makes no sense.”

Dean runs a hand over his face.

“I don’t know, okay? Maybe Claire messed with my phone. Or Sam.”

“Wasn’t me,” Sam mutters, but he quickly shuts up with a glare from Dean.

Cas is still muttering to himself.

“I suppose, if you want to get technical, there is no ‘s’ in my name at all, in Enochian it’s a post-alveolar fricative—”

Dean huffs.

“Give it rest, Cas. It literally does not matter.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh. Really.”

He sits back, pulling out his own phone.

“Well, fine,” he says, thumbs flying furiously over the keyboard. Dean frowns, glancing back at him.

“What are you doing?”

Cas doesn’t look up from the screen.

“Changing your name to Deann. D-E-A-N-N.”

“Dude, what the hell—”

Cas deftly evades the grab Dean makes for his phone, smirking.

“You’re the one that said it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

Dean hits the brakes and pulls the car into park, swiveling in his seat.

“Change it back,” he says, glaring at Cas. 

“No,” he says stubbornly, arms crossed.

“Fine.” 

Dean snatches up his phone from where Cas abandoned it, opening up Cas’s contact info.

“Then you’re going in as ‘asswipe’.”

Cas narrows his eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Holy tax accountant?”

“No.”

“Huggy Bear.”

“Dean—”

Dean smirks, tucking his phone away.

“Too late.”

He turns back to the road, grinning to himself. They pull back on the highway, back to Lawrence.

A couple miles later, Dean snaps his fingers.

“I got it! Asstiel, that’s where the second s comes from—”

That earns him a cuff on the ear, and another stoppage as Dean retaliates and almost starts a full-on wrestling match that threatens to spill over into the backseat—until Sam yells at them to cool it.

“Guys, I’m right here.”

Cas flops back in the seat, smirking. Dean tries to comb his hair back into place, scowling.

They drive again, and some time after, Dean’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

One New Text Message 

From: Sunshine

you’re making this up to me later

Dean grins.

After a moment, it vibrates again.

From: Sunshine

bring that leather jacket.

angvlicmish:

Photo Booth (AO3)

Summary: Cas drags Dean into a photo booth.

“Cas, what’re you doing? Sam’s waiting for us.” Dean asks, as the angel yanks him in another direction.

“It says it can take photos of us, Dean.” Cas says, as if that explains everything.

“We have to go check out the crime scene. We’re on a job here, ya know.” Dean grumbles but continues to follow Cas and that’s when he sees what the angel was talking about.

Dean groans. “Cas, we’re not -”

“It’ll only take a second.” Cas says, and then he’s pulling Dean into the photo booth with him and sitting down on the small bench inside. 

Dean’s increasingly aware of the way their thighs and arms are pressed together. His palms start to sweat. Dean huffs and turns his head to see Cas frowning. The angel then adorably tilts his head to the side. Did he just think that? Adorable? Dean shakes his head.

“Why isn’t it taking pictures of us?” 

“Because you have to pay for it, obviously. And I ain’t paying for it.” he mumbles, rubbing his sweaty palms on his black slacks. Then he makes the mistake of looking into Cas’ stupid, big, blue puppy eyes. 

That word flares up in his mind again. Adorable. No, Cas isn’t adorable. He is not at all adorable. The angel scrunches his eyebrows together and pouts. Fuck, he’s adorable. And you’re so screwed, Dean thinks, his own mind mocking him.

“Fine.” Dean says, pulling the red, velvet curtain closed before digging into his wallet and pushing a few coins into the slot. Cas visibly brightens at that and the screen starts to display large numbers counting down.

“Okay, Cas, we got four shots and then we’re out of here.” Dean mutters, watching as the screen counts down. Three, two, one.

Dean only just remembers to smile in time for the first shot. The next shot snaps just as Dean feels Cas rest his head in his shoulder. Dean smiles even more at that but then just in time for the third shot, Dean feels lips pressed to his cheek.

He stiffens and immediately feels Cas recoil away. He’s not even paying attention when the fourth shot is taken. He sits stunned, in silence and Cas eventually clears his throat, breaking it and mumbles something along the lines of ‘it says to now collect the photos outside’. 

Broken out of his trance, Dean grunts before pushing out of the booth, past the red, velvet curtain to see that their are two separate strips of the four pictures that we’re taken. 

Dean grabs one and takes a closer look, his eyes immediately drawn to the one where Cas is kissing Dean on the cheek. Did that really just happen? Did Cas just kiss him on the cheek? Then his eyes lower and sees the next one of Dean, stiff as a board and Cas looking…well…upset. 

Dean swallows. He needs to know. He knew he would never have the guts to take the first step in fear of rejection but what if…“Um, Cas, buddy, why did you - uh - you know, um, kiss me…on the cheek?” Dean swears, his voice is as high as a thirteen year old girl and he would be embarrassed but all of his attention is focused solely on the angel.

Cas looks down, his own photo strip crumpled in his hand, and his cheeks tinged a shade of pink. “I was just doing what it said to do.” he mumbles, pointing to the side of the booth.

What it said to do? Dean follows Cas’ hand and - oh. And there it is. The disappointment. Because obviously Cas would just do the exact same thing as the couple are doing on the example pictures. Smiling in the first one, head rested on the shoulder in the second one, a kiss in the cheek in the third one, and a kiss on the lips in the last one.

Dean squints. He glares at the fourth photo. The couple is kissing. On the lips.

“We should probably go. We still need to look at the crime scene.” 

“Wait.” Dean says, and Cas suddenly looks nervous.

“Dean, I’m -”

“Why didn’t you kiss me on the lips in the last one?“ Dean asks, and Cas looks away again, his blush now spreading to his neck. 

“You looked uncomfortable.” Cas mumbles, his hands playing with the edges of his photo strip.

Dean takes a deep breath. “Did you want to?” A beat. 

“Yes.” Cas whispers, shuffling from one foot to another. 

“Oh, fuck.” Dean mutters, just as he pushes Cas back into the photo booth and pulls the curtain across. Cas eyes are wide, his mouth parted as he watches Dean shove more coins into the slot. 

“Alright, four shots.” Dean says, and then he grabs Cas’ face and crushes their lips together. He feels Cas’ breath hitch and fear spikes in Dean’s gut but then Cas relaxes and pushes back, their lips moulding together perfectly. Dean’s never felt so alive. Cas’ lips are so soft in contrast to the rough stubble on his jaw but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

They don’t even hear the pictures snapping. They’re seemingly in a world of their own.

Eventually though, Dean has to pull away for air, but he doesn’t stray far, his head resting against Cas’. He smiles and the angel smiles too. It’s followed by the snap of the camera and this time they hear it.

Cas chuckles and it’s in that way where his nose scrunches up as much as possible and his eyes crinkle at the sides and Dean is so screwed.

“So, are you not uncomfortable with me kissing you anymore?” Cas asks, his deep, gravelly voice like music to Dean’s ears.

“No, I guess not.” Dean breathes out, grinning at the angel in front of him.

And if they spend the next ten minutes passionately making out in the photo booth, then nobody would notice…well, until a week later, when Sam finds the photo strips of them kissing and adorably resting the foreheads together - Dean loves that word now - then only Sam had to know why they were nearly half an hour late to the crime scene.

casthoughts:

Most children being able to see parts of Cas’ true form since their minds are more open and sensitive to the supernatural. They stare in awe at the nimbus of white light glowing around Cas’ head, or giggle and turn their heads to catch a glimpse of the shadowy wings shifting behind his back. They are fascinated, and they crowd around him, clamoring for his attention as their parents look on in amusement. The adults think it’s adorable how their children keep asking the gentle stranger who volunteers as a storyteller at the local library about his wings and halo.

casthewise:

I really want a grey ace, grey aro!Cas AU though, where Cas is tired of living by himself and wants companionship, so he advertises for a roommate. And Sam has only just moved out of Dean’s apartment, and Dean is lonely, so he answers Castiel’s ad and moves in. And they become fast friends, and Cas tells Dean his policy of: “I’m not sex repulsed but I’d love it if you could be considerate when having people/your significant other over”, so Dean takes that into consideration.

And time passes, and suddenly Cas realizes that Dean isn’t really bringing people home anymore and hasn’t been for a while, and he’s all confused about the way he feels towards this man who he’s come to think of as his best friend. Dean, of course, feels the same way, but keeps his distance because of how Cas identifies.

Until one morning, while they’re sitting together eating breakfast, Castiel bites the bullet and attempts to confess his feelings. Which is difficult, because he’s never had to before, and he’s not really certain what he’s feeling anyway, so he makes this weird analogy about food and sunlight and how it makes Dean glow until he abruptly ends with: “so I think I would like to try kissing you, if you’d be amenable to that.”

And there’s a long pause where Dean is trying to process all of this and Cas is freaking out, until the former finally just leans across the table and pecks his roommate sweetly on the mouth. Castiel gives this little smile, and Dean holds his hand, and all throughout the meal, Cas kind of states until he works up the courage to initiate a kiss of his own.

And Dean smiles.

deanscolette:

mishcollin:

ok but no imagine for a sec like dean giving cas a massage and like digging his thumbs into cas’ pressure points because “shit cas you’re really tight” and cas is just letting out these small soft “ahh” sounds and rocking into it half-asleep and this started out as like dudes bein dudes bros helpin bros but now dean’s getting really flustered bc cas is like Thick or whatever

anyway once dean is mercifully finished cas is like “let me” trying to be all nice and shit and dean’s like in the Void by this point like “no you dont have to man” and cas is like “i want to!!” and dean’s like “fukcign :))) fine :))))” so he goes with it and basically melts into cas’ hands bc goddamn dude what he could be a professional at this what the fuck?? cas knows these sort of ancient multicultural meditative techniques and cas is kind of murmuring to him as his hands slide over his shoulders and lower back and dean’s whispering like “yeah, yeah” but he doesn’t really realize he’s doing it and he gets pretty darn flustered about it but cas is like “it’s ok, this is about making you feel good” and just like!!! deancas massages 

and sam’s in the next room like:

thekingslover:

Dean and Cas can’t stop kissing. Dean’ll only be gone a day, maybe two, but even that’s too long. They’ve been in the entryway for twenty minutes - Sam already yelled at them twice - but Dean just waves him off and pulls Cas back in for more.

“Just one more,” Dean says. “For the road.”

“For the road,” Cas agrees, smiling.

They kiss.

“And one for the return trip,” Dean says, never straying far from Cas’s lips.

Cas nods. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Dean, so help me, I’m going to leave without you,” Sam calls from beyond the front door.

“Fine!” Dean yells over his shoulder. He softens his voice for Cas. “Guess I really should go this time.”

Cas’s smile disappears but awe and love stays in his eyes. “Be safe.”

Dean kisses him soundly, mostly to silence the worrying. But Cas is persistent.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean rolls his eyes.

Cas cups Dean’s cheek with his palm, earning his attention, which Cas then holds with a firm stare. “Come back to me,” Cas says.

“Cas -”

“I love you,” Cas says, and Dean’s heart swells.

“I love you, too.”

They don’t separate again for another ten minutes, when Sam starts the Impala and Dean can hear her tires crunching on the driveway.

deancasheadcanons:

deancasheadcanons:

dean bein like “DUDE CAS WE CAN GET MARRIED NOW LET’S GO TO THE COURTHOUSE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW”

and cas is like “i am neither an american citizen nor a real human being, i don’t think that’s going to work”

Sam adds in “also Dean you’re technically dead according to police records”

deancasheadcanons:

[x]

“Is it over? You stopped recording?”

Misha puts his phone in his pocket to assure Jensen that they are no longer being recorded. He then turns toward Jensen and gives him a tight-lipped smile.

Jensen’s eyes scan his face as the corners of his lips curl up. He quickly glances down the hallway to make sure the security detail is waiting around the corner. They’re nowhere in sight, so Jensen turns back toward Misha and presses a brief kiss to his lips.

“Hey, haven’t seen you all weekend,” Jensen says gruffly, his voice hoarse.

“We did ops together two hours ago,” Misha replies with a smug laugh.

Jensen rolls his eyes and scoots closer behind Misha, wrapping a hand low around his waist and settling it just below his bellybutton. “You know what I mean,” he mumbles before leaning down and kissing Misha’s neck.

Misha instinctively tilts his head out of the way so Jensen has better access. “You put your head on my shoulder again. You keep doing that in our videos.”

Jensen growls and tightens his grip on Misha’s waist. “You keep filming these videos when I’m too exhausted to think straight.”

“I don’t think you ever ‘think straight.’”

With a strained laugh, Jensen drops his head to Misha’s shoulder again. “Quit making me laugh, it hurts my throat.”

Misha sees movement out of his peripheral vision and looks over just in time to see a volunteer hide behind the wall she had been peeking past.

Misha shuffles out of Jensen’s grasp and explains, “We have an audience.”

Jensen groans and smacks Misha’s ass for good measure. “Hey.”

Misha turns back toward him and furrows his brow.

Jensen leans forward and presses another quick kiss to his lips. “Thanks for asking me to do this campaign with you.”