eh :p

3

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°- ALL the jack(s)

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i was preparing this in extra with my other S&P artwork for the #septicart event but i maybe pushed me a bit too much and ended up severally sick.  ( ̄▽ ̄)ノ(plz, quick advice, take care of ur body moar than me and mah booty)

ヾ(´▽`;)ゝ im not very happy of this drawing btw,i had a lot of fun but i feel like it’s rushed and messy. so lame!

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this aside,I’m also sorry for my inactivity this past week. I was too weak for doing anythin’ except reblogging stoopid stuff that made meh giggled .i’ll reply to the asks and e-mails that i received asap. 

8

Gravity Falls Dance Party! (complete with the snadger and everything!) 

I’ve been working on these for a looong time, I basically grabbed a few dancing videos and drew poses and since I really like how those sketches were looking, I added color :D 

As Friends Do (1566 words)

“Dean, this has to stop.” 
Sam comes barging in through Dean’s door just as he’s making himself comfortable on the bed, trying to watch the latest episodes of Dr. Sexy in peace.
“Cas is stressing me out. He asked me if I’m angry with him for the fourth time this week.” 
Dean takes off his earphones and puts the episode on hold. “And why exactly would that be my fault, Sammy?” he asks irritated. Sam takes a few steps forward until he’s directly at the edge of his bed, looming over him.
“You know exactly why.” He nods to the open door, probably somewhere vaguely into Cas’ direction. “According to him, the stuff you do with him is how friends behave when their friends come back from the dead, and he now apparently thinks that I don’t want to be his friend.” 
That makes Dean splutter and blush; the stuff – what is he even – he didn’t do anything – and everything he did was certainly – “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally croaks and slams the laptop shut because he’s definitely not in the mood to watch Netflix right now.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you’re all over him ever since he came back. And really” – he raises his hands defensively – “I don’t care, but please, just tell him what you feel for him so we can all get this over with.” 
“Jesus, can’t a guy show some hospitality to a new member of the household?” he grumbles, probably still red as a tomato. Yeah, maybe he did stretch the definition of friendship a few times ever since Cas came back, but really, that shouldn’t be an issue, right? He was just trying to make Cas feel as comfortable as possible.
“Dean, practically fondling the guy under your shared blanket on the couch doesn’t count as hospitality, it really doesn’t,” Sam says exasperatedly.
Okay, that had only been one time, and he hadn’t fondled the guy, Jesus, he had only stroked his knee because he had struck it against the counter earlier that day. He opens his mouth to tell Sam as much, but he doesn’t let him.
“And Dean, really, I love Cas – as a friend – but I’d be more than happy to never have to touch his general crotch area in my life.”
“I never –”
“So please, do me a favor and tell this guy that you’d like to bump uglies with him in an extremely unfriendly way so I can stop explaining to him why I don’t want to touch every part of his body and why I never stand up at 5 am to make his favorite pancakes.” He points a finger at Dean. “Don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” 
Dean’s mouth opens and closes like a fish as he struggles to find words; maybe, eventually, Sam is, at least technically, right. He certainly wouldn’t be averse to do… stuff that’s not covered by a friendship with Cas, but he’s also pretty sure that Cas wouldn’t want that, so why the fuck should he even care? 
The fact that Cas expects the same treatment from Sam, for God’s sake, makes it clear that he’s not really into the whole feel–up–Dean–thing – or maybe he’s a kinky fucker and wants them both, but then – nope. He’s not going to go there.
“Dean,” Sam says again, more urgently this time. “I could probably hear your thoughts across the pond right now. If you really think that Cas is trying to get into my pants, I’m going to have to sue you for ingraining this image onto my eyeballs.” 
“I wasn’t – okay, shut the fuck up. I’m going to talk to Cas. But not about having sex with him, Jesus. I don’t –”
“Don’t even say it. I’m not even listening anymore, I’m done with your bullshit.” Sam puts his fingers in his ears and wanders off, mockingly whistling a cheerful tone. This jerk. 
“Alright, fine,” he tells himself and takes a deep breath. He can talk to Cas. Sure. He’s not sure yet what he’s supposed to say, but he can definitely bullshit his way through all of this. Sam’s just not that much of a hugger. Sam values his sleep over making pancakes, and he’d probably burn them anyway. Sam isn’t used to sharing a blanket because he’s so big he needs at least two for himself. 
Excellent. Now he just needs to tell that to Cas.

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