You Trying To Distract The Vampire From The Fact That Sam And Dean Are Killing The Rest Of Its Nest:

I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE FUCK DECIDED TO TAKE THE ORIGINAL INDIANA JONES MOVIES OFF OF DISNEY +! BECAUSE YALL JUST RUINED MY NIGHT!

🤔STRANGER THINGS THEORIES🤔

Ok so this is a big theory I have for season five so just bear with me and if you don’t understand just nod and smile. 😉

Ok so I believe that when max wakes up in from her little coma she is either gonna be A) Blind or B) Not blind. So what I am thinking is that she will wake up after a while and then boom she is gonna be Max blind or not.

But I believe that when she wakes up she would not remember anything about Hawkins Indiana. So that means she would not remember El, Lucas, Will, Dustin anybody. Like she wouldn’t even remember moving there in the fist place. She would believe that her mom and step father are still together, and sadly that Billy is still alive. Then she would have to learn about the upside down agian and we all know how that went in season two so it’s gonna be difficult for her to comprehend.

Anyways these are only theories let me know what you think and

!NO NEGATIVE COMENETS!

Sanji stretching for anatomy practice 🤭 (I might color and make a sticker for myself of the vertical split one heheh)

keishin finally (finally) gets you into bed with him—well, onto couch with him, in his little one-room apartment in the back of sakanoshita mart—and he thinks all his prayers have finally been answered. thinks he's found some sort of cosmic apology for every misfortune he's ever suffered in how soft your lips are against his and how sweet you taste.

he knows he doesn't deserve this; that he hasn't done anything in his unremarkable life to merit how good you feel underneath his hands, or how dizzying those little noises you're making when he touches you are. but, against all odds, you're really here, you really want him, and he's determined not to fuck this up.

"keishin."

every time you say his name he feels like he's hearing it for the first time. like he's being blessed by it. it takes him a moment to process the way you've called for his attention as he suckles a little bruise against your throat, using every modicum of will he has left in him to pull away and meet your gaze.

you look so good underneath him on his ugly, ancient couch that it makes him ache. your lips glossy and swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded and yearning. you reach up and touch his cheek, and he can't tell if your hand is cool or his face is burning.

"do you have a condom?"

and all at once keishin comes crashing—violently, disastrously, crushingly—back to earth.

he blinks at you, wide-eyed, in the wake of your question. you seem to understand his answer even though he can't bring himself to say it.

"are there any in the shop?" you ask him, optimistic and gentle, with an encouraging smile.

keishin perks up—visibly brightening at your moment of genius—but as quickly as the hope uplifts him, he's deflating again. he pinches his bottom lip between his teeth.

"we're out right now," he murmurs sheepishly, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

he only keeps a couple of boxes of condoms behind the counter at a time, since so few people ever come in asking for them. last week takinoue had showed up half-hammered two hours after closing, and banged on the shop door until keishin grumpily answered it. his drunk friend went on to explain that he'd gone out drinking with his colleague from work and she'd invited him home with her, but he desperately needed condoms. keishin chucked the last box at his stupid face, and yusuke swore up and down their next night out drinking would be his treat before skittering off into the night again with a grin from ear to ear.

he was going to kill yusuke with his bare hands the next time he saw him.

"keishin, it's okay," you say with a light laugh at the positively crestfallen look on his face. "we don't have to—"

"no!" keishin interrupts you before you can say the words he just cant bear to hear. not right now. not from you.

even if you promise him that this could happen again another time—that you don't have to go all the way tonight, that there will be other opportunities—he has no way of knowing if that's true. no way of guaranteeing it.

he's got a taste for you now. he knows what you sound like. he knows how you feel.

and he refuses to let this opportunity pass him by.

keishin pulls himself upright so quickly from where he'd been hovering overtop of you on his lumpy sofa that he almost gives himself whiplash. he stumbles up to his feet, brushing his bleached hair back from his eyes—he's not sure where or when he'd lost his hairband, but the strands are hanging freely now and falling into his gaze. he grabs his jacket from the floor where he'd hastily shucked it when the two of you stumbled through the door in the throes of passion.

"I'm just gonna run to shimada mart!" he says to you as he stuffs his arms ungracefully into the sleeves of his jacket, his words so frantic they're almost bleeding together. "it's only about 10 minutes away, if you just wait right here—"

"keishin."

"shouldn't be longer than 25 minutes! 20, even! i might even be able to get macchan to drive me back if—"

"keishin, wait."

your laughter makes him stop dead in his tracks, halfway to the door. he's only got one slide on his foot, the other still sock-clad, and in his haste he realizes he'd grabbed his television remote instead of his cellphone to shove into his coat pocket.

you've caught him by the sleeve of his jacket, holding the material pinched between your thumb and forefinger as you stare up at him from the sofa with the sweetest smile on your face. he's frozen as he peers down at you, his lips parted, his dick still half-hard in his jeans.

"don't go," you say to him, tugging him back towards you by your grip on his cuff. he moves easily, gravitating back into your orbit in spite of how gentle the actual pull had been.

"b-but,"—keishin casts a forlorn glance back in the direction of his apartment door—"what about the condoms?"

his voice cracks a little on the question and he has genuinely never wished so ardently for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

you release his sleeve in favour of twining your fingers with his now that he's near to you again, your soft hand slipping easily into his own. that same dull ache in the pit of his core (and between his legs) throbs again as you blink up at him.

"i've been trying to tell you," you begin, a bit exasperated but not without its own fondness. you hesitate a little, looking away shyly before adding, "we don't... need one."

keishin thinks he might die.

really, genuinely die.

he wonders if maybe this is what the old man felt like when he almost keeled over from that heart attack last year, because keishin's pulse is pounding so violently in his head he feels like his vision is going a bit spotty around the edges—like when you stand up too fast after a night of drinking.

he's brought back to the moment as your hand squeezes his own—a gentle, questioning gesture.

your lashes flutter as you blink up at him, your head tilting slightly to the side. you smile a little at the dumbfounded look on his face.

"...if that's okay with you?"

(keishin pays for takinoue's drinks for the next six months, but never explains why.)

Lowkey want to write a OPLA fanfic. Already have a OC, her backstory, love interest and everything planned out. I just have like four other fics that I am writing at the same time.

If anyone is interested, let me know!

Ted, but he’s one of The Boys…did I cook, guys?

silly shuggynanigans collection

Baby face

Summary: You start to get upset when Dean decides to shave off his beard

Word count: 0.5k

A/n: Live. Laugh. Love. Bearded Jensen.

༺═────────────═༻

Your hands gently moved through Deans beard, the small hairs causing you fingers to tingle from the sensation. His own hands rested on your thighs, holding you gently as you sat on top of the bathroom counter. 

“Princess?” He called, watching as your eyes drifted from the hair on his face to his relaxed ones. “Are you gonna start or are you gonna wait for it to grow longer?”

A small pout found its way onto your mouth, “I don’t want to get rid of your beard.” You whined, having half the mindset to hide the razor from the taller man. “I’d rather watch it grow.”

Dean mirrored your pout, albeit mockingly. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves, princess. It has to go.”

“Ok. But what if we just leave a bit of stubble instead?” 

“No.”

“But, it’s attractive.” You told him, hoping that’d he change his mind and keep it for just a little longer. 

“To bad.” He replied, stepping from between your legs. Taking a bottle of shaving cream and the razor from your grasp. “It’s starting to itch.”

You let out a small huff, slightly mesmerized at how he gently applied the shaving cream to the lower portion of his face. The fluffy white sudes mixing into the small strands thickly and throughly 

Dean wetted the blade beneath the warm faucet, giving it a good shake to take off all excess water. Fingers gently pressed against his chin, he began to shave against the grain of his beard. You felt your stomach drop as you watched the foam disappear and just the smooth skin left in its place. 

“What if you just keep a mustache?” You asked, leg coming up to your chest as you rested your chin on top. 

Dean stopped his movements, glancing at you through the mirror. “Absolutely not.”

A scoff came from your mouth. “Why not? Do you think you’d look like hitler or something?”

“I wasn’t thinking that, but now I am.” He told you, continuing to shave away at his facial hair. 

“So, no?”

“No.”

You shook your head, sliding off the counter as you made your way behind the older man. Placing both arms around his torso you rested your cheek against his back, listening for his heartbeat through the back of his shirt. 

“Princess,” Dean called, not stopping his movements. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t watch you ruin your face.” You told him bluntly, turning your face to bury it in his shirt. 

A chuckle left his lips, giving a smile glance over his shoulder to look at you. “Ruining my face, huh?” You nodded. “You know it’ll grow back, just like last time and the time before that.”

“But it’s torture.” You wined. “It’s like I’m dating a child when your done.”

Dean gave a small nod of his head, knowing that you’d either be talking about his childish behaviors or the baby face he’d get after shaving. Though it could just be both. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will it make you feel better if next time I let you shave me?” He asked, dragging the blade over the last strip of foam from his face. 

You nodded you head just a tad, “A little, yes.”

“Okay, princess.” He wiped any remaining shaving cream from his face before turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “We’ll do that.”

Better than nothing

Summary: You and Castiel work together to help make Deans birthday cake.

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Not my favorite but I just needed something to work on. ENJOY :)

༺═────────────═༻

“So how do we do this?” Cas asked, the dough laid out flatly on the counter, three eggs rested on top of the mushy substance. 

Glancing over your shoulder from the mixing batter, you checked to see if the angel was correctly following your instructions. “Cassie, when you fold the eggs into the dough, you have to crack them.”

Cas furrowed his brows, facing the counter in front of him once more. “But, I don’t understand, you said we had to fold the eggs inside, you said nothing about cracking the eggs open.”

“Yes, I did tell you that, but we can’t eat eggshells, Cas.”

“Why not? Eggs are full of protein and nutrients for the human body.” He told you, slowly cracking each egg into the dough. 

You let out a sigh, wondering how your life had come to you teaching an angel of the Lord how to make a hand made birthday cake. “Cassie.” You mumbled, setting down your mixing bowl and making your way to the angel. “The chicken and the yolk have the protein, the shell just protects them.”

Cas let out a quiet hum, watching the way the yolk broke up into the sticky dough. Mixing into the other ingredients slowly, his hands continued to stick to the batter. “When would I know to stop mixing?” He asked, blue eyes meeting yours as he continued to mix. 

“When you can’t see the eggs by themselves anymore.”

He nodded slowly, hands kneading the dough until the eggs were deeply embedded into the batter. “What do we do with it now?”

“Now,” you began, quickly bringing over a pan to hold the cakes structure. “We place the dough in the pan, and let it bake for ‘bout thirty minutes.”

Cas lightly picked up the dough, placing it in the pan you held out for him. After that you placed it in the preheated oven, gently closing the door before setting the over timer. “What do we do while it’s baking?” He asked you, wiping his hands on his trench coat, any of the dough that stuck to his hands coming off on the poor jacket. 

“Well,” you began, making your way back to the mixing bowl, the whisk sitting upright in the homemade frosting. “I need to add the finishing touches to the frosting, but we do need to clean up the kitchen before the boys come back.”

“Right.” Cas muttered, picking up all the empty measuring cup that was laying around and placing them in the sink. “Would we also need to sweep up the flour on the floor?”

“Yes, Cassie, that would be just fine.”

As Cas cleaned the kitchen, you finished up the icing, placing it onto the countertop and helping out the angel with washing the dishes as he sweeps. 

Ding

“Y/n, I think the cake is done baking.” Cas told you bluntly, crouching down to sweep his dust pile into the dust pan. 

“I think your right, Cas.” You told him, wiping your wet hands onto a nearby rag as you went to retrieve the finished cake. 

The heat from the oven graced your face, the top layer of the cake a nice and warm bronze. “Perfect.” You hummed to yourself, using the rag to take the hot metal pan from the oven. 

“Hey, Cas?” You asked the angel, placing the pan on the counter to cool down. “Do you wanna swap? Me clean the rest and you ice the cake.”

Cas gave you a quick nod, swapping places with him, you watch out of the corner of your eye as the angel spread the blue icing across the now cooled down cake. Bits of the cake coming up with the small spatula he was using, an annoyed expression playing on his face the longer he tried to get the icing to stick. 

“Do you think Dean will like this?” He asked placing the spatula down and admiring yours and his work. “Because it looks a little…”

You walked over to his side, the rag you’d been using tossed over your shoulder as you looked over the cake. It was a dark blue, slight holes from where the icing wouldn’t fully cover the it, it also leaned on its right side. Though it shouldn’t since it was baked in a straight circle pan. 

“Funky looking?” You finished for him, both your and the angels head cocked to the side as you took in the celebratory dessert. 

The sound of doors opening suddenly caught your attention, “We’re back!” Sam called from the top of the stairwell, Dean behind him as he tried to look for any form of surprises for his birthday. 

“We’re in the kitchen!” You called back, placing one or two more dishes in the sink before you were met with the sight of the two Winchester boys. 

“Happy birthday.” You and Cas told Dean, bodies hiding the jacked up cake from the older man. “Why don’t you sit at the table and we will get started?”

Dean gave you and Cas a quick thank you before following your instructions, Sam made his way over to you. A shopping bag held tightly in both hands. He stopped momentarily in front of the cake, placing the bags onto the counter before facing you completely. 

“I thought you said, you and Cas were gonna make a pie?” Sam whispered to you, eyeing the lop-sided cake with curiosity. 

“We were,” you whispered back, placing a couple of candles on the cake. “But then we realized half way through that we didn’t know how to make a pie.”

Sam hummed at that, leaning over the counter as he slowly lifted the cake up and towards the table. “And clearly the cake looked a whole lot better than the pie.”

“Better than nothing.” 

Making your way to the kitchen table, you placed a small party hat on Deans head. Ruffling his hair briefly before taking a seat, Cas and Sam joining you after lighting the cake. 

“Well isn’t that a pretty cake.” Dean joked, swiping a bit of icing onto his finger and in his mouth. “Delicious too.”

“Yeah, well, it was either this or a box of Mac and cheese we’d be singing you happy birthday to.” You told him, swatting his hand back as he tries to get another taste. 

“It’s perfect.” He told you, giving a quick thanks to each of you as you all started to sing happy birthday to the older man. 

This is what he needed for his birthday, not a big party with some random people he barley knew. No, instead for his birthday he got a cake that was made by the people he loves and a day out with his brother, as Dean just pointed and said he wanted ‘this or that’ for his birthday. 

It was truly a day he would remember, for the rest of his life. How ever long or short that may be. 

Nothing. And I mean NOTHING. Can ever out hot the carousel scene from The Lost Boys