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Welp, my dudes.

As of today, I have been married to the same guy for 18 years.

I think I might like him.

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i’m curious what arbitrary and specific flavors people dislike are. rb and tag a Taste you simply don’t fuck with. for flavor reasons not texture reasons. for me? i do not like elderflower or caraway for whatever reason

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Seeing a lot of new people show up in my notes with like "proship dni" or whatever so RENT LOWERING GUNSHOT: IM AN ADULT WHO DOES NOT CARE IF PEOPLE HAVE PROBLEMATIC SHIPS, IM OLD AND BELIEVE TABOO FICTION IS SAFE AND HEALTHY, IM AN OLD MAN WHO THINKS IT'S FINE TO HAVE SHIPS THAT WOULD BE BAD IN REAL LIFE, I BELIEVE IN TABOO KINKS AS HEALING PLACES, I DO NOT DO SHIP DISCOURSE, I THINK IT'S OKAY TO WRITE ABOUT BAD THINGS HAPPENING TO GOOD PEOPLE WITHOUT CONDEMNING IT IN THE NARRATIVE, I THINK IT'S OKAY TO GET OFF TO MAKE BELIEVE BAD THINGS!!! THANKS

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God forbid a boy have hobbies

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decided to get silly and write an entire fic today, and post it immediately. no beta we die like [literally any SPN character].

So have a fic, I guess!

Pocket Full of Sunshine

Rating: M

Word count: 4,300

Pairing: Castiel/Dean

No major warnings, unless you count me dragging 15x20 out back and shooting it.

Summary: Now that Chuck is gone and Cas is back, they can finally just live their lives. Dean is still trying to figure out what that means for him and if he can trust Cas to stay this time. He’s also trying to figure out where Cas is getting the random assortment of objects he keeps pulling out of his sleeve. He always seems to have exactly what Dean needs. Or maybe the truth is that Cas is exactly what Dean needs.

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There’s a bit of a snag when Dean reaches into his pocket for the box of matches to finish the job and it’s not there.

“Ah, shit,” he says, and starts patting down all the various pockets on his jeans. “Where the fuck did my matches go?”

Cas starts checking Dean’s jacket pockets while Dean is checking his pants, patting down Dean’s chest and ribs without comment.

“Damn, I must have lost them when I fell out of the museum window,” Dean says. “I think there was a 7-11 about a quarter mile back up the road, would you mind flapping your wings and grabbing a lighter real quick?”

Cas sniffs. “There’s no need.”

He flicks his hand in a motion that Dean finds familiar, the same one that always produces his angel blade. But instead of the silvery-white gleam of his signature weapon, a little book of matches falls into his palm. He hands it off to Dean. It’s from a strip club in St. Louis, judging by the mirrored silhouettes of two curvaceous women and the address printed on it.

“Got something to tell me?” Dean chuckles.

“Yes. I agree you’re getting too old for digging up graves. Although I assume you were asking where I got the matches. I’m not going to tell you.”

Dean gapes at him. “What? Why?”

“Because the expression on your face is hilarious,” Cas says, and saunters off toward the car

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Read the rest on AO3

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haters do not want you to know this but if you pick up something heavy every day it will eventually stop being quite as heavy. this is because the heavy thing, having witnessed your dedication, begins to yield its essence to you. and you, in turn, begin to absorb that essence into your own being. this is what makes people strong. the more essence you absorb, the stronger you become, and the more respect you command from the world around you.

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🌱P△treon Sketch Request | July 2025

Wangxian big temple confession scene💕💕💕

♡ / ↻ — are appreciated😌

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Let’s make some fruit salad!

If you like my videos, please consider supporting me on patreon

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My boss heard me typing (on actual work, mind you) and came over to ask if I was banging away on fanfiction...

I think she was joking, but um.

I have never, would never, not in a million years, admit to writing fanfic to my fucking boss, and especially not in my office...

But I think my frightened laughter just gave me away.

FACK.

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Street performing!

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violence and death and dying and blood and guts and gore and violence and viscera and fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you

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Fic writers, put in the tags what the difference in hits is between your most and least viewed fics. Mine is 7,720 (7,779-59).

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I want to [remembers that suicide jokes only further damage my mental health] fuck you like an animal

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I get that the new world is struggling to be born but can we get an epidural or something

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*Louis Armstrong voice* And I think to myself 😏 what the actual fuck? 😌