and thats not even half of them.
a short little cas comic…i was wondering what cas thought about his vessel, and this was the result :>
PLEASE JUST TAKE ONE MOMENT TO READ?I know it’s not the place to ask this but I am crying my eyes out writing this. I’m 17 and my teeth have made my life a living hell. I can’t look in the mirror anymore. I hate how I look to the point I don’t even have the confidence to even leave the house anymore.They are the reason I have depression and why I get bullied in school.
All I want to do is go to my Debs, what you would call Prom, smiling but can’t because of how I feel so awful about these. I saved up money to get them fixed before but it took over 8 years to do so and that was with money that my dad left me after he died but I had to give the money to my Mom because she needed it to pay for my grandfather’s funeral and she didn’t have enough money to cover the costs.
I want to smile fully instead of having to worry that I’m disgusting someone and close my mouth right away.Please,please help. This is torture.I cannot afford it as I am a full-time secondary school student with no medical card and my mother is a single widowed parent. I have gone to two different orthodontist and even with the payment plan my mother and I would not be able to afford it. I have put together a fundraiser to try and raise the money as a last resort.I know some of you might think that this is a spam or a fraud link just ask me for further proof if you want it. The braces are called 6 month smiles so I’m hoping to have the money saved soon so they will be off before I go to the Debs.
Here is the link for the fundraiser:Here is the link to the Facebook page I set up as proof of The Smile Project:If you guys could help donate even just 1 dollar it would be one step closer or even by just re-blogging it, it would mean the absolute world to me and to be able to get these would be a dream come true. Thank you for reading.
Castiel pulled his body into a tight ball on the waiting room chair. His mother rested her hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair. He hated that he has to be here when his siblings get to be playing at school.
"How come God made me this way?" He asked angrily, his knees muffling his voice.
"You’re special, baby," his mother said.
Castiel huffed. “I’m a freak.”
His mother’s hand stilled, then traveled down his neck until it was pressed between his shoulder blades; she caressed one knob, then the other, taking her time to feel the skin-covered bones beneath his shirt.
"Look at me, honey," she finally whispered. Castiel turned his head to face her, keeping his cheek pressed to his legs. "God did not make a mistake, Castiel. He made you this way for a purpose, I have faith in that."
"But why? Why make me the only angel who can’t grow wings? Why make me the joke of the whole class?" Castiel could feel tears welling in his eyes and he wiped them away quickly. All his brothers and sisters had began growing their wings by the time they were two or three, but Cas was 12 and his back was as bare as a humans.
Once when he was eight he’d found three feathers on his pillowcase and he ran to his parents’ room screaming that he was finally getting his wings, but when he saw his older brother doubled over with laughter Castiel knew the truth. His mother held him for three hours before he was able to stop crying. He feels that same way now as he waits for the doctors to call him back so they can fit him with a new set of prosthetics to replace his old ones.
His mother leaned forwards and kissed Castiel’s temple. “Maybe God thought he needed someone like you in the world. Someone to show everyone that it’s not about the way you look, but about how big your heart is.”
"No one can see my heart."
"Not unless you show it to them." She kissed Castiel again and then sat back again to look at her magazine. She rubbed circles against Castiel’s back.
Castiel closed his eyes and thought about her words. What was he supposed to prove to people without having wings? He wasn’t something special like Michael with his huge golden wings, or like Anna with her freckled auburn wings. Hell, he couldn’t even pass as an exceptional human like his best friends Dean and Sam. He was stuck in the middle between the two most well known species on the planet, and he didn’t know how that was going to help anyone.
"Castiel D’Angeles?" The head nurse finally called.
His mother stood up with him and held his hand as they followed behind the nurse. Castiel groaned, stomach suddenly sick, he just wanted to be normal for once.
"I thought they were gonna be bigger than your old ones," Dean said, petting his hands over the grey feathers.
"They are, a little bit," Castiel told him. He watched Dean from over his shoulder, trying not to blush over how mesmerized Dean was over his new wings. "They mostly only adjusted how they fit on my back. They aren’t so tight now, you know?"
Dean nodded. “Can you fly with these ones?”
Castiel shook his head, frowning. “The doctor said he won’t fit me with fliers until I’m thirteen. He said I have to be entering puberty for them to work.”
Dean looked up as Castiel and smiled. He danced his fingers from the tips of the feathers down to where they met Castiel’s shirt. “Promise that you’ll take me flying when you get your license?”
"Tha-that’s not for another four years. And you hate flying."
"I hate flying with your brothers," Dean corrected. He sat down next to Castiel and picked up his sketchbook and pencil. "I’ll be okay if you’re the one flying me."
Castiel’s face turned redder than the ripe tomatoes in his mother’s garden. “I, um, I promise, then.”
Dean grinned again and opened the book to a blank page. “Good. Now don’t move so I can get the feathers right.”
Castiel couldn’t help his smile. He hoped flying with Dean was as good as the butterflies in his stomach were promising.
One: Buy condoms. Buy them and keep them with you at all times, and use them before you are asked to use them. And use them every time. The peace of mind you allow your partner will free her to be vulnerable with you, and that, my son, is exactly what sex is about. Condoms are sexy. In fact, call buying condoms foreplay.
(Footnote: If you are too embarrassed to buy condoms, you are not ready to have sex.)
Two: Kissing is not merely foreplay. Spend entire evenings making out on the couch while fully clothed. Believe me, dry-humping rocks.
Three: Sex is not just about friction. It’s about emotion. Stop trying to find her clitoris and find her heart. Because then she’ll help you find her clitoris.
Four: If you really wanna know how to please a woman, ask her how she masturbates. Then do that. A lot. If she claims she doesn’t masturbate, offer to take her shopping for a vibrator so you can both learn the vocabulary of her body together.
Five: Don’t put anything in her butthole you wouldn’t want in your own.
(Footnote: Try a pinky finger, it’s kinda awesome.)
Six: When you go down on her—and you will go down on her, and if you are my son, you will be amazing at it—tell her how good she tastes. Stop in the middle and kiss her deeply so she knows how good she tastes. Do the same when she goes down on you.
Seven: A simple Google search will yield 1,327 euphemisms for male masturbation, yet only 23 for female masturbation. If guys spent less time jacking off and more time jilling off, this world would be a happier place.
Eight: Everything you need to know about the importance of the clitoris is in the movie Star Wars. You are Luke Skywalker piloting your penis-shaped X-Wing Fighter deep inside her trench. Remember: seventy percent of all Death Stars cannot be blown up through penetration of the trench alone. It must be through focused contact with that little exhaust port at the top of the trench. Otherwise, any explosions you experience will be merely Hollywood special effects.
Nine: Just because you come doesn’t mean she has, so don’t you dare come before her. Focus completely on your partner. Don’t worry about gettin’ yours, you’re a guy. You always get yours. Your job is to make sure she’s gettin’ hers.
Ten: If sex with your partner lasts no longer than this poem, you are not making love. You are masturbating with her body instead of your hand. Shame on you. Go back to step one. You’ve got a lot of learning to do.
the script finding instructions video!
Sometimes the internet can be a great place.
I am a transgender non conforming mtf. Im in nyc and lost my summer job. I would like it if someone can house me. Im really scared and don’t want to sleep on the streets. I’m eight months sober and someone who is sober would be great. I can’t afford anything, but I can cook meals. I’m a chef by trade. Please email email@example.com. thanks
AU where Dean and Castiel are the last ones at the airport suitcase carousel - 3k~
It’s a good thing that Dean’s transfer flight isn’t for another four hours, because so far he’s already spent fifty minutes watching endless reams of the same luggage go around and around on this god-forsaken carousel.
He’s looking for a dark grey suitcase with a length of black shoelace tied around one handle to identify it from every other generic-looking suitcase. So far, he has not seen it.
There are a couple others also in this situation – a very long-suffering mother of two small children, who Dean has already offered his help to; an irate businessman already on his cell phone to the plane’s company to let them know how totally unacceptable this is; and one other man. Tall, dark hair, sharp jaw. Squinting down what looks like a school textbook. Square glasses on top of his head like he’s forgotten that he’s meant to be wearing them.
He looks up and he catches Dean’s eye.
(prompt: misunderstandings - they both think the other is out of their league)
Dean knows he doesn’t have much to offer but five bucks in his pocket and a whole lot of daddy issues. A human would take one look at him and run screaming in the opposite direction. An angel should, too.
Dean wonders if maybe Castiel just doesn’t know any better because instead of running, Cas stays rooted to the spot, blocking Dean from the entrance to the bunker where Sam already disappeared inside. Instead of flying to anywhere else on the planet, Cas squares his shoulders, looks Dean in the eyes, and says, “Dean Winchester, I’m in love with you.”
"Right," Dean says, voice heavy with disbelief. This conversation is going to rip his heart out, he can tell. He knew he shouldn’t have fallen in love with his angel; love caused nothing but trouble. "Like a brother or something, right?"
Cas frowns. “Oh. Is that… what you want?”
The SPN/CW team right about now…