Silly Trifles

superlockedhogwartianinthetardis:

outercorner:

tenoko1:

wimey:

violethyena:

exorin:

wimey:

getting tickled is seriously the worse kind of torture 

this is fucking adorable.

Omg, tickling Cas and his wings flailing about. I can only see poor Sam getting thrown into the wall so many times…

oki what the FUCK are you guys doing
what are all those notes
are u sick
what
no 

Dude. I can picture them finding out Cas is ticklish. Sam would hold his arms while Dean went to town on him until the angel CRIED from laughing so hard and so much. What’s family for if not to exploit your weaknesses for their amusement. And yours.

Sam wakes up when something heavy hits his back.

He twists away from the wall in the tiny hotel room, hand going for the knife under the mattress, turns to face the threat, and gets a mouthful of feathers.

“Dean!” he gasps out, because after gently - as much as possible, at least, with how much they were flapping around and twitching - separating two long feathers to get a good look at the room, he can see Dean has pinned Cas down on the bed and is in the process of tickling the poor angel to death.

He has to admit, he’d never heard Cas laugh, not this long or this joyously. And Cas’s face is relaxed, open, mouth wide and head thrown back, hands flailing, as Dean sneaks his fingers into armpits and the soft belly, along the ribs and even in the dips of Cas’s collarbones.

Still. Someone has to act the grownup here.

“Dean, oh my god, how old are you?” he demands, trying to get off the bed - Cas’s wing is heavy and forceful and slapping at Sam’s chest - and get to Dean. “Let go of him!”

Dean pauses, and then lowers his head down to Cas’s ear. They both turn to look at Sam and Sam gets that sinking feeling all younger siblings do when their elder sibling stares at them like that.

“No, Dean, don’t even - “

Dean half-pounces, half-flops across to Sam’s bed as Cas pulls his wings back and gives Dean the opportunity to slam Sam down onto the bed. Sam yelps, because he hates being tickled, it is pure torture, and then suddenly Cas is leaning over Sam’s head.

“Cas - ” he begins, but that smile hasn’t left Cas’s face and suddenly Cas is tickling him too, and it’s four in the morning and they’re shrieking like toddlers and it is the best fun Sam can remember ever having in a long, long time.

I LOVE HOW THIS ISN’T SHIPPY IT’S JUST PURE AND ADORABLE FRIENDSHIPPYNESS MY HEART CAN’T

a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

cloudwatchingangels:

fionapondwilliams:

prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:

Asylum Waiting Room of the Big Three.

it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here

Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.

Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.

Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.

A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”

“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.

“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”

Supernatural gurgled something quietly.

“No, I won’t forget the pie.”

I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE