I usually don't even mean to

so, this might be just me but, since i spent such a long time watching these more cutesy and chibified cartoons, jack’s body proportions kinda take me off guard, a bit. i mean, his design still is highly stylized, obviously, but his body type is that of an actual adult, not just soft shapes and long lines and stick legs. it’s kind of odd when you compare it to the others.

His Angel

“He said you’d never love me.”

Dean, still dim with post-orgasmic haze, lethargically turned to face the man (or rather, man-shaped entity) lying next to him.  It was the first thing Cas had said all evening, other than varying renditions of Dean’s name.  

“Wha?”  he said stupidly, still breathless and not really processing the remark. 

“Lucifer, I mean.  He said you’d never love me,” Cas repeated, tone and expression utterly unreadable, his usual poker face still fixedly in place.  “Not the way I wanted you to.”

At present, it was December, the coldest night they’d had in years, and the two had just made love for the first time.  

Their relationship had edged firmly away from “platonic” months prior, if it could ever have been described that way to begin with, not with some grandiose confession of love, but with shoulders smushed together in restaurant booths, gazes held too long, hands touching one another and not moving away. 

It began with Dean’s “friendly” suggestion that Cas start spending nights in his room, all for the innocent and magnanimous reason that he “must get lonely, just wanderin’ around the bunker all night.”  

Miraculously, however, they wouldn’t actually make love until weeks afterwards.  For once in his life, Dean seemed content to take things slow.

Now, Dean looked at his – boyfriend?  Lover?  Partner?  None of the terms seemed quite right – unsure of what to make of the statement or how to reply.  Consolation never had been Dean’s greatest asset. 

“When he was…inside of me,”  Cas continued.  “He’d sometimes visit me to pass the time.  Torment me.  He lived in my head for months, it was more than enough time for him to learn how I felt about you.”

If he didn’t know already, Dean wisely decided not to add.  In retrospect, neither he nor Cas had been the subtlest tools in the shed.

“He said…he said you and I were like dog and master.  That you were my whole world, but I would only ever be a fraction of yours.  And he said you only kept me around because I was useful to you.” 

Dean swallowed.  He felt like he should say something, anything, but he didn’t have the faintest clue what to say.

Luckily, he didn’t need to pontificate much further on the matter, because Cas continued,  "When he got bored of that, he moved on to showing me memories of you.  Of things you said and did.  Things to demonstrate how little you cared for me.“

”…Like what?“  Dean hesitantly inquired, not sure he really wanted to know.  

"Harsh words, mostly:  your…critiques of my hunting skills.  Calling me a sissy, and a coward, and a baby in a trench coat.

In spite of the gravity of the situation, Dean had suppress a chuckle at the bitterness behind the remark, and opened his mouth to point out that these brusque remarks were the kinds of things he said to everyone.  

“When you said…” Cas went on, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.  "…When you said nobody cared that I was broken.“

Dean’s mouth immediately fell shut, suddenly dry.  He hadn’t been sure Cas remembered that, and he’d been hesitant to remind him – the last thing he needed to do was remind Cas what a colossal dick he’d been back in those days.  

"For Lucifer, torment of all kinds is an artform,” Cas continued.  "And when he saw the distress these memories caused me, and he showed me them on repeat:  he showed me the day you made me leave the bunker, forced me to relive how utterly hollow that moment felt.  He showed me the day you told me we couldn’t work together, the day you accused me of soliciting the suicide bombers.  He showed me the day you…you beat me, under the Mark of Cain’s influence.  That moment when I felt sure you were going to kill me.“ 

Cas’s eyes closed, shuddering faintly at the unpleasant memory.  "On days when he was feeling particularly frustrated, he would take it out on me, by showing me those memories over and over.  Eventually, Dean, I…I started to truly believe the things he told me:  that I really was a dog, whose only purpose was to serve you.  That…”

Jerkily, he turned his head to look at Dean.  He wasn’t crying – Dean wasn’t entirely sure if angels could cry, or if that kind of emotional inexpressiveness was just another one of Cas’s aspergers-esque idiosyncrasies.  But his crystaline blue eyes were wide and sad, and unless Dean was completely mistaken, unusually damp.  

“…That you would never love me.”

Dean swallowed.  There was so much he wanted to say, to explain his actions, his reasoning, why for so long, he felt so inclined to push Cas away.

He wanted to explain the firmly-ingrained self-loathing, how he’d been raised during a time in which men who loved men were considered to be the lowest form of vermin the human race had to offer.  

He wanted to explain the first and only time John had ever caught him with a boy, how he had looked at Dean with such complete and utter disgust that it had taken months to get him to look at him like a human being again, much less his son.  

He wanted to explain the days when food was scarce and money was scarcer, when John was nowhere to be found and the art of hustling pool was a skill Dean had yet to master, when the only remaining option was to get on his knees behind the truckstop for whatever greasy lowlife was willing to pay him for it.  

He wanted to explain how filthy that had made him feel, how he’d spent hours gargling with mouthwash afterwards to try to get any remnants of the taste out of his mouth, and hours more scrubbing his skin raw in the shower in a fruitless effort to feel clean again.

He wanted to explain how that shame had carried into his adulthood, how hard he’d worked to suppress his attraction towards men (or anything that looked like one), how frustrated he’d been when this proved futile.  

He wanted to explain how easy it had been to blame – Cas, with his bluer-than-blue eyes and endless sea of stubble, whose full, chapped lips Dean couldn’t seem to stop imagining against his own – to push him away and force the feelings down, carefully hidden behind a thick layer of self-imposed manliness and misdirected anger.

He wanted to explain that he had always cared he was broken, and that he always would, but that he couldn’t admit that to himself.  Not then.  Because if he had, he would have also had to admit to himself that he was broken because of Dean.

He wanted to explain that Cas was the single most important thing in his world, albeit in a different way than Sammy:  Sam was Dean’s charge to protect, but Cas was his idol.  Something to be worshiped and adored, and prayed to in times of trouble.

He wanted to explain everything.  But the words caught in his throat, clogging in their stampede to get out.

So, he said the simplest thing he could think of:  

“I love you.”

Cas looked at him in disbelief, and it occurred to Dean that this was the first time he had said this out loud.  He’d wanted to say it years ago – once, he almost had, while Cas was still under Naomi’s influence, and Dean’s usual bravado failed to get through to him.  But for whatever reason, he couldn’t seem to get the words out, like some dick of a script adviser was preventing him from saying them.  

“I need you” had seemed like a healthy alternative, though in retrospect, it was a cheap substitute.

“I love you, Cas,” he repeated, relishing in the unexpected freedom of saying it out loud.  "I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.  Since you pulled me out of hell and made me whole again.  Since the first time I heard your voice, even though it damn near blew out my eardrums,“ he added, with a short huff of laughter at their unfortunate first meeting.  Sobering slightly, he went on,  "I used to wonder if…y'know, when you were putting me back together again…you left a little bit of yourself inside.  Your grace, maybe.  'Cause back then, it was the only reason I could think of, for how I felt about you:  like you were a part of me.  And suddenly, I couldn’t remember what my life was like before I had you.”

Dean,”  Cas murmured, the name sounding like sacrament on his tongue.  Like that four-letter word was the single most precious thing in all of creation.  

And to Cas, maybe it was.  

The next thing Dean knew, he was peppering tiny kisses all across the stubbled jawline, straddling his angel once more.  His angel – Dean liked the sound of that.  Somehow, none of the other terms (lover, boyfriend, partner) seemed to work for what they had.  

“I love you,” Dean murmured, in between kisses.  "I love you, Cas.  God, I love you so much.“  Now that he’d started saying it, he could seem to stop.  

"Dean, is this…”  He felt Cas’s throat contract as he swallowed.  "…Is this a dream?“

Dean chuckled, smiling against the soft, prickly flesh of his angel’s neck.

"Well, I hope not, angel,”  he grinned, returning to his ministrations.  "‘Cause if it is, I’m just gonna have to say it all again as soon as I wake up.“

Remember when E’dawn gave Hui a ring that said “I love dawn” on it

I mean they’re literally a married couple so uh

anonymous asked:

I'm black an though I love Moana (It was a great film and I am a huge Dwayne The Rock Johnson fan, I can't help but feel slightly jealous. I mean, I just wish there was a film with a leading obviously black (because Kida is usually used to counter this) female lead that wasn't an animal for most of the film. The gifs with Moana's hair and just her being awesome are great and I would just love to have a black character to fangirl over too. Am I a bad person for feelint this way?

Aww omg no, you’re definitely not a bad person for wanting better black representation! Let’s be honest, Disney having the first and only black female lead in their canon be an animal for 80+% in her own movie was unfulfilling and disappointing to say the least especially for those of us who’ve waited so eagerly. 

They could have done the same story without turning Tiana into an animal especially since her transformation wasn’t ever needed in the first place (she’s not like Kenai in Brother Bear who was transformed to atone for the revenge killing of the bear or the vain, selfish Kuzco in The Emperor’s New Groove who is turned into a llama + eventually learns compassion + respect). Her only “fault” is working hard to achieve the dreams?? 

So from one black fangirl to another, I understand 100% where you’re coming from *hugs*

ok so, usually even for my big pieces, i tend to only spend about 4-5 hours on them, BUT GODDAMN I’ve spent like….15+ hours on this?? I’m exhausted. I feel like it really paid off though???? I mean I’m really happy with it. I’m also trying to be more art positive, so I’m forcing myself to like it (ง'̀-‘́)ง

Sibylline Song

(Alright, here it is. The unedited, unfinished mer!Stiles fic. Warnings include: assholes, angst, violence, people being specist, and references to canon deaths.)


Their journey begins with the usual amount of pomp and ceremony expected for a trade ship.

It’s the Triskelion’s forty second voyage from the colder, northern channels of Bæyan to the warm waters of Coca-Machu, and the crew means to make it a good one. Nothing too dangerous—they’re going to actually try trading this time—and everything will go smoothly. Even the weather has been fair to them since they left Port Duke with the morning tide. Many of the crew had waved goodbye to the few friends they’d made over the years, and perhaps a few enemies too. Others were more than glad to leave the port as quickly as they did.

“Are you still moping?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

maybe a fic where MC expects yoosung to be like really subby after a long day at the vets bc that's how he usually is but he is actually being really dominant (nsfw? if you want)

I’m not too familiar with what being a sub or dom means, but I tried >o<


Note: This concludes the end of the Yoosung Birthday Event!!

Warning: NSFW

The door swung shut as Yoosung entered the apartment quietly, turning on all the lights.

A nonchalant expression was on his face as he gazed around the room. All was quiet. His eyes flashed in understanding, a small sigh escaping his lips as he took calm, long strides to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the bedroom door, only to find that you weren’t inside.

Before Yoosung could turn around, a blindfold was wrapped around his eyes.

Your sweet, seductive voice made its way to his ears as a whisper, “How’s my pet today, hmm?”

He remained quiet, not even turning to face you. You tilted your head in confusion—he was usually very responsive to your dominant act, but his reaction was pretty odd today.

Suddenly, he ripped off the blindfold and spun around, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you against him all at once.

“Wha-” you were cut off by an abrupt kiss. He harshly pressed his lips against yours, slipping his tongue inside your mouth and easily winning a fight for dominance. He sucked on your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He kept a firm grip on your waist with one hand, while the other groped at your thighs.

In the back of your mind, you wondered what had spurred him to suddenly take the dominant role—usually, he had no problem with being submissive to you. In fact, he very clearly enjoyed it. So why was he-


His amethyst eyes stared intensely into yours, as if challenging you to disobey him. Your eyes widened at his command, but you found yourself growing wetter and wetter, as your trembling hands moved to slide off your clothes.

Yoosung acting dominant was… new. It was a strange feeling, with the roles reversed. And holy crap, he was fucking hot.

“Wait for me on the bed,” he said coolly, using one finger to tilt your chin upwards. He flashed a wry smile at you before leaving the bedroom.

For a moment, you just stood in shock. You never realized that Yoosung had it in him! You could feel your cheeks flame in embarrassment at the thought of all those nights where you’d struggled to command him. It had taken you a while to finally get comfortable ordering him around, after you’d realized that you really weren’t hurting his feelings. But he was doing this so naturally?!

You scrambled onto the bed before he returned, the cool sensation of the blanket against your naked body sending tingles to your pussy. You could hear shuffling in the other room, and you squirmed in anticipation. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Yoosung would do to you.

The sound of his footsteps drew near and you naturally straightened up, feeling the urge to sit in an obedient manner. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked over you.

“What a good girl,” he cooed.

Your cheeks flamed at the sound of that. There was something exciting about Yoosung calling you like this. Like you were his toy. Like he could do anything he wanted to you.

He grasped your hand, holding it to his lips as he planted a small kiss on the back, violet eyes burning passionately into yours. His voice was low when he spoke. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you today, MC?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Should you say no…?

“Of course you don’t,” he answered for you, letting out a disappointed sigh. “You know, MC… all day at work, my mind was filled with thoughts of you. Thoughts like…”

He planted another kiss on your lips. “…claiming your lips for my own…”

A light nip at your neck. “Straddling you…”

“… and pinning you down so I may watch the different expressions on your face as I make you moan in pleasure…” A bite on your shoulder.

“…and making you all mine.” His fingers trailed up your thighs, making you shudder from the sensitive feeling he elicited.

You tried to be subtle as you moved your hips closer to him, but he caught your legs in a tight grip.

“Oh my. Are you trying to be a bad girl, MC~?” he coldly questioned you.

“N-no,” you stammered, your face still heated up. “I’m not…”

“Well… If you’re that desperate, why don’t you spread your legs for me? Show me all of you… I want to see all of my good girl. Show me every bit of the body that belongs to me.”

You shakily spread your legs for him, whimpering as you found yourself unable to look away from his lustful eyes that wandered all over you.

“God, MC, I love you,” he murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for you to hear. Awh fuck. That melted your heart.

Almost as if he hadn’t just said that sweet line, he pushed you onto the bed, lifting your hips to grind against his hard erection.

“Can you feel that, MC? Can you feel how much I want you?”

“Y-yesss,” you gasped out, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of his cock pressing just perfectly against your pussy. “Mmn… Yoosung, please…”

“What’s that, MC? Please what?”

You desperately thrust yourself against him in frustration, refusing to answer him.

“You’re just waiting to be fucked, hm?” he chuckled.

He slides a thumb onto your clit, pressing the nub with a gentle pressure. Another finger slipped into your dripping wetness, swirling around inside. You watched as he licked off your juices from his fingers, smiling devilishly at you.

“Aww, look at you~ So wet and ready for my cock to enter you…” he mocked you, rubbing the tip of his length against you.

“Stop teasing me!” you groaned, reaching your hand down to grab hold of his cock and trying to move yourself onto him.

“Bad girl,” he scowled. “I’m in control here. You will be touched when I decide you should be touched.”

Without a warning, he suddenly entered you, slamming all the way inside your pussy.

“Aaahnn!” you moaned, not expecting the sudden movement.

He immediately quickened his pace, pounding into you almost frantically.

Every thrust seemed to scream, IneedyouIneedyouIneedyou

Because god he was being absolutely merciless, taking you at his own pace.

“G-good girl,” he panted, covering your lips with his own, his hands tangling into your hair.

You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, a tell-tale sign that he was going to cum. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling your own pussy clench as a sudden hard thrust sent you over the edge.

But he didn’t stop, or ease his pace. No, he only sped up, ignoring your moans from how sensitive you were after your climax.

And then suddenly, you felt something hot spill inside you, and he finally stopped, pulling out as his cum leaked from your pussy and dripping over your ass crack… and onto the bedsheets.

You let out a huge sigh of relief. Damn. Dominant Yoosung was intense.

He propped himself up on an elbow, one hand running over your breasts and lightly swirling around the nipples.

“I hope my princess is ready for Round Two.”

Secret Identity Stories
  • Character: omg this superhero looks JUST LIKE this other person I know and love!
  • Me: lol put it together now
  • Character: I mean everything is the same! The mannerisms and eyes and EVEN THE WAY THEY SMELL.
  • Me: like spice and rain and something uniquely them?
  • Me: i had hope for you, but you were spawned by rocks

what if dan and phil announce their engagement on december 24th and that will be their gift for the phandom and all this touching and stuff that has been going on recently even more than usually is just them dropping us hints idk

I’ve been meaning to post this drawing here forever, so even though the quality is crap (as usually), there you go ✨

every now and then I feel tempted to chat with someone about my wips but then hoo boy do I ever feel iffy about them

if you think I forgot about my fave boys, you’re so wrong even though their outfits are nowhere near as fun as the girls. I mean come on, Morgan.

Ladies version!

@ straight girls who write slash fic mmm I’m gonna need you to stop writing it Like That

fatedefined  asked:

▲ category: rp

        We’re far too caught up on follower counts, and I could talk about this forever, honestly, but here are a few, but not quite all, of my main gripes :

  • how many followers you have does not define how good or bad of a roleplayer you are ( whatever that means in itself )
  • even then, how many followers someone has and the speed in which they may amass them is highly subject to numerous variables ( time spent in a community, graphics ( and while this is a separate skill entirely from writing, there seems still to be some conflation between the two in practice ), the character, networks and fandoms involved in, adherence to trends, activity, et cetera ) ; there are far too many variables to isolate it as a metric of you as a writer
  • your followers aren’t simply a number ; they’re individual blogs who have hit that follow button and are actual people behind those blogs ; they aren’t something to collect
  • sometimes this seems to stress people out more than it should, honestly?  in terms of gaining, losing, milestones, what have you?
  • I feel like there’s some passive-aggressiveness sometimes with them and like they almost become a competition ——  which isn’t healthy at all for individuals and the community

mintychim  asked:


✨ = a blog rate

uMM those stars though? i could stare at it forever :’)) and a jimin icon to go with it ajwf;eoaij sLAY MIMI SLAY ME LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO!! tbh 11/10 because simplicity + bts + mimi = my favorite <33

☕️ = shade someone

LMFAOO I DON’T REALLY HAVE A PARTICULAR PERSON TO SHADE ATM?? idk i guess in general i don’t like people who are really two faced?? i mean who doesn’t? if you’re going to pretend to be nice but act self entitled behind the scenes (bts hoho), then you can’t really blame me if i go like ?? because who are you really? LMAO just something i noticed recently both online and irl!!

Imagine badboy!Woozi accompanying you when you’re at the library, studying to make sure no one bothers you while you’re trying to focus on your revisions. Badboy!Woozi is also there to help motivate you whenever you get tired and restless from all the studying.


We always manage to explode something in the labs and the (some of) guards spend their time outside sleeping when no one’s watching… Ansem is usually too busy to accompany me. Xehanort has high expectations of everyone and everything. Braig brings me to brothels and lets me have his drinks. Dilan seems genuinely worried that I’ll fall off, he pulls the straps so hard I can’t breathe. Even yells at me for every tiny offence but I know he means well. And Aeleus always reads me stories to sleep. 

They’re all I have.

And I’ll never trade them for anything.