#i’m going insane with tags

[sawdrawsty]

Sketchbook Pages!

The one on the right is my OC Amser, the Left is Epic Fanart’

[givemeureyes]

day 1 without ao3: i have gone through all 5 stages of grief multiple times and have invented a 6th. i will not disclose what the 6th stage of grief is.

[the-mpreg-guy]

And like I need everyone to rewatch s1-2 with the mindset that Dean’s never had a hunting partner before. “I was working my own gig in new orleans” and “dad used to send me away” and “the story became the story” and like, yes, Dean and John did hunt together, as evidenced in 1x04, but they weren’t hunting partners, as evidenced in 1x20 by how John treats him.

The majority of hunts Dean went on were alone. He did the witness questioning, the research, the puzzle solving, the cemetery digs, the monster hunts alone.

Which puts two things into perspective. The first is that Dean is very very good at outsourcing. One scene that comes to mind is in 1x16 where Sam teases Dean for calling another hunter to uncover some lore. He didn’t have a partner ever to help pick up the slack when shit hit the ceiling (on hunts with John, Dean is playing support in every avenue) until Sam started hunting full time and was able to help provide support via their mutual partnership.

The second is that Dean is putting in a performance specifically for Sam for two entire seasons straight. The long winded sighs, the digs at Sam being a “college boy nerd,” pretending to hate reading, downplaying his interpersonal skills and empathy towards civilians.

It’s a facade. One entirely catered towards Sam to make him feel more comfortable, and like Dean needs him there. He spends most of 1x11 lamenting that Sam isn’t there, to Sam but also in general because he misses Sam.

And like, there isn’t even really a point I’m trying to make here. It’s just that s1-2 Dean (first season in particular) is written so insanely well. Especially in retrospect of later seasons. The first time we see Dean let his game face drop is so telling of the character we get for 15 more seasons.

“I don’t want to,” happening in 1x01 is insane. From his first appearance on screen we learn exactly who he is: a big fake who’s desperately lonely.

[ineffableteeth]

I am screaming look at these photos

Cut scene of Crowley sleeping on a WALL in his PAJAMAS (HE WEARS PAJAMAS ((AND BLACK SILK ONES AT THAT)))

(From the Script book) He DOES wake up a mess and he DOES clean up instantly (WE WERE ROBBED OF MESSY HAIR CROWLEY)

CONCEPT ART FOR CROWLEYS BEDROOM

I CANT

[st4rrrdestroya]

I keep seeing the assigning things to band members but this entered my mind suddenly and made me giggle

Lola as bubble yum

[fightingformetaphor]

After toiling for hours in firefox’s inspect window I finally managed to make my AO3 look pretty!!!! I’m actually in love with how brought the colours turned out, even if they’re a little less vibrant on my laptop.

I used base code from @ao3commentoftheday’s glowy skin and some other misc code to change the highlight colours on tags, hide stats from my own works, and hide non-english works, as well as changed the colours pretty massively to fit my pretty Firefox theme (as well as added this stunning gif from the space bar [I found the artist by the way, it's kirokaze!]).

Really random but a huge thank you to all the skin makers out there making code for free! Truly an art I didn’t appreciate enough before this.

Here's the code for this bad boy in case anyone else is interested in my silly little project!!! I don't actually know how to code CSS so if anything is bright blue or doesn't work please let me know, I'll... I'll figure it out.

[mentallyillmindmeld]

In “Free To Be You And Me” Dean tells Cas that “when humans want something really, really badly we lie.”

In “I’m No Angel” Dean tells Cas that he made a deal with April to spare her if she brought Cas back to life but Dean killed her afterward anyway and when Cas hears this he says “You lied.” and smiles

[theotherbuckley]

incorrect tweets pt 17/?

[keferon]

I love when JP fics are like

Here’s Prowl. He’s an inforcer. Or tactician. Or detective. Maybe you want something exotic? He’s a mer. Or demon. Or prince. Whatever.

…

And then there’s Jazz. Or wait. It it him? Maybe not. Look how he performs identity acrobatics on you and everyone. It was Jazz over there, but now this one is also Jazz. Meister is Jazz but Jazz isn’t Meister. Or is he? Ricochet is Jazz’s brother? HAHA get trolled, they are the same person. Bet you feel stupid now? Good. Because Ricochet IS actually Jazz’s brother, they aren’t the same person. But there is only one of them now? Which one? Haha GOOD LUCK. Which one of them was Meister? Which one are you looking at right now? Does Jazz even exist? Strap to your fucking seat we are shipping Prowl with the concept of Jazz

[stars-etc]

The Wizard, The Witch, and The Wild One

[ghostly-slut]

not gay as in happy, but queer as in strange and confusing

[hungharrington]

okay steve definitely wouldn’t care about body hair, but i just know that man goes feral over your freshly shaved, smoooooth legs

i took this to make him a sillay boyfriend 🫶 sorry if u wanted HAWTNESS this is just silly LUV…. forgive me

The sheets feel cool against your bare legs.

You can feel the scratch of your hair tucked against your neck but you’re too content, all but sinking into the mattress, to be bothered to move it. Your legs are tucked up, your arms splayed wide across the bed. You’ve just done the hard job of an everything-shower and lying down is your well-earned reward.

Across the room, Steve pulls the curtains to cover the window. Shadow falls across the room, banished after a moment when Steve pads to the bed, turning on the lamp. Amber coats the ceiling.

It’s balmy tonight. You feel warm without even being under the covers. Dozing off sounds like a pretty amazing idea right now.

“Not falling asleep with me, are ya?”

You smile at the sound of Steve’s voice, lifting your heavy eyelids to gaze at him.

He looks scruffy the same way he always does at the end of the day. His hair has lost some of its magnificent volume and he’s wearing a ratty old t-shirt from high school. You can see the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow on his jawline. He’s gorgeous.

And you’re the only one who gets to see him like this. The thought makes you smile wider.

“Mm,” you hum, definitely giving away your sleepiness. “Nope.”

A warm hand touches your knee, Steve’s hand reaching out and rubbing it tenderly. He tsks playfully. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby.”

You huff a quiet laugh and let your eyes fall back closed. Steve’s touch has always had a magnetic property, drawn to you whenever he’s near. It has a similar effect on your heart, which always feels like it’s surging forward in your chest to reach him.

The touch shifts, skimming down your shinbone. You expect him to maybe begin a half-hearted massage on your calves— he’s prone to giving them to you— but then, unexpectedly there’s another touch added to your legs.

You lift your head, peering down at him with squinted eyes. He’s crouched down beside the bed and he’s rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of your legs.

When he knows he’s been spotted, he only grins, shifting his cheek again. “You’re so… smooooth.”

There’s definitely awe in his voice. You laugh, a real laugh this time, and shake your head. You should really stop being surprised when Steve’s a dork — he’s proven to be one time and time again. If you didn’t know different, you might assume this was his first ever relationship.

“Mhmm,” You hum. “That’s part of the appeal, handsome.”

Something glitters in Steve’s eyes at your pet name for him and his grin melts into something softer. His hand on your shin moves again, stroking softly up your calf. His face shows his bewilderment at your supremely smooth skin— and then betrays the look of mischief that crosses his face.

Your brows furrow instinctively. “Steve—” You warn.

He does it anyway, turning and licking one big stroke up your knee. You squeal, surprised at the sensation, and jerk your leg away from him.

“Steve!”

“What!” He mimics your tone, finally getting up onto the bed and crawling up to meet you. He’s smirking, looking terribly proud of himself. He plops himself down, half of his weight pressing into your shoulder as he nuzzles himself into your neck.

“S’just wanna a little taste, that a crime?”

His breath is hot and almost tickles against your neck. It’s impossible not to dissolve into quiet giggles, leaning into him. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling the two of you closer.

“You’re a dork.”

You can feel the little puff of air he lets out in a laugh as well as the smile that spreads on his mouth. He pokes his tongue out, a minuscule touch against your neck that has you shrieking again— except this time, Steve’s holding you too tight to squirm away.

“Mmhm,” He says. “Your dork.”

You grin, turning to nose against his temple and make a noise of agreement. “Absolutely.”

[glitterynebulas]

THIS IS CRAZYYY

[awzominator]

@stephcassweek day 5: Galas

galas are boring unless u and ur gf raid the food table and spend the night roasting the other attendees

[gatoburr0]

Been thinking about it

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

concubine

a/n: I got multiple drafts, but I saw a twitter post about male concubines so. Idk I think imma dedicate this writing to @adrawinggnome cuz fantasy

minors dni

He was much too old to be your pretty little bed-warmer, Phillip fully knew that. You could have tossed him out any time you wanted and replaced him with a pretty boy from anywhere you desired. But he kept begging you to keep him, and so you did.

it was no secret to the courts or to the other concubines of your that phillip was your favorite by far, and he was very proud in showing the fact. He’d do about anything to keep his lavish spoiled life- and of course, to keep being around you. Every passing day he spent with you had made him more and more desperate for your love, your comfort, and so he did what he could to earn it. Did everything to be praised by you, for that was the best feeling in the world to him. A simple touch and a whispered word would have him chubbing up in his silken robes that you has treated him to years ago.

he was the one you sent letters to while away. He was the one who got to sleep in your lavish bed the most. He was the one to get to be fucked stupid every time you came home from war or bustling social events

and luckily for him tonight was one of said nights. The maids had gossiped and whispered about your arrival and your mood of pent up anger from the moment you stepped inside, by the time it reached phillip? He was scrambling to get himself ready, anticipating you trudging up the steps as he tried in a hurry to clean the wine stain off his robe, to try and look perfect for you, and to make your royal bed made; since he had slept in it for half the day because he had simply missed you too much

he was frantically scurrying around till he froze, hearing the door slam open as you collapsed onto your silken bed, your armor making a sickening crack against the bed frame. You seemed more exhausted than you ever had before. Phillip, being the perfect boy he was, straddled you softly and kissed you all over, leaving pretty little smudged marks of his lipstick- a lipstick you had bought him while at a market across the damn continent of course

he took off each piece of your armor while peppering your jaw and neck with kisses, letting you rest your sore muscles while he got you more comfortable. slowly but surely stripping you down to nothing and humming at the sigh of relief at his pretty lips mouthing at your half hard cock. He truly couldn’t get enough of you- your taste, your smell, your look. If he could choose, he’d die happily right in your arms; and what better way to show that then serving you like you deserve?

Phillip mouthed and kissed your tip until you were fully hard, before softly taking you all into his mouth, leaving a bright red ring around your base from his lipstick, his cheeks hollowed out and his throat spasming around your member- he could feel the tears start to dot his lashes, not that he minded.

he desperately grinded against the soft bed as he worked himself up and down, his lips stretched around your erection, teasing you with little licks and kisses on your tip every time he pulled off to catch himself from choking too badly, always wiping the slight drool and pre sliding across his jaw, smudging his lipstick.. a shame really. But at least he looked adorable under you, messy from his blonde hair to his now red cheeks from the soft tears that slid down his face

he whimpered and whined as you tugged his hair softly to rut into his throat, cumming in his silk robes when he felt you tense and paint his throat white, pulling himself off and panting, whining to go again because he ‘wasn’t ready’

he really was a brat, and one spoiled by you and you alone. And he loved you more then he cared to admit