so-lemme-know-maybe

Post catws, after failing to find Bucky for about 5 months, Steve comes home from the grocery store and checks his answer phone messages while he puts stuff away. The first one is Fury informing him of another mission the day after next, the second is drunk Tony demanding he comes to the party, and a few other random ones that Steve listens to, until the sixth message, which starts with a few seconds of silence, before rapid fire Russian, Steve knows its Bucky.

Ten minutes later, Steve is playing the message for Nat, who wears a serious expression at first before she starts laughing and looking up at Steve with an odd expression. Steve is getting increasingly frustrated and demands to hear it from the start, so he plays it again and listens to the angry Russian for a few seconds before Nat pauses it.

“Direct translation?” She asks and Steve nods. “‘You fucking meatball, what were you thinking covering a grenade with your body, like you are some unlimited resource, and can be spared. What the fuck were you thinking, I leave you alone for five minutes…’ do you want me to continue?”

Basically the two minute long message is Bucky angry ranting at Steve in Russian for all the dumb shit he remembers. “’I know you stole my shirt you asshole.’” Is the last thing Nat translates before the call abruptly ends. “What shirt?” Nat asks but Steve doesn’t say anything, instead he stands up to retrieve the aforementioned shirt to show Nat, Bucky’s shirt that he stole before Bucky went to war, since it smelt like him…. 

“That little shit stole it back! He fucking stole it!” Steve yells as he walks out of his room, and Nat doubles over laughing.

aaay, long time no update on my art tumblr, so I just thought I’d post this dumb doodle I did of Levi a few weeks ago in a private stream. 

6

it’s like a step by step guide for how to feel bad.

Recovery

A drunk!Dean x Reader / fluff

A/N: This is just a quick drabble I whipped up in between writing WTSE and my new John smut. I’ve been wanting to write this ever since I saw the gifs I’m going to include, but totally forgot about it until now. I have a raging hard on for drunk!Dean so, enjoy this. Lemme know what you think! xo

Word Count: 733

Warnings:
- language (maybe not?)
- mention of drinking and driving (DO  NOT DO THIS)
- long haired Dean (like demon!Dean haired Dean, yeah…)
- talk of smut at the end.

Tags: @balthazars-muse @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @theerinpage @bovaria @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @kayteonline @salvachester @leatherandwinchesters @sandlee44 @pada-ackles @stephizzle94

*gifs are not mine.

You slowly crept into your bedroom, trying your best not to make any sudden loud noises. Knowing you, as clumsy as you were, you expected to stub your toe on something that wasn’t there. Mentally congratulating yourself that you managed to stay upright as you approached the bed, you looked over Dean sleeping peacefully across your comforter. He had shown up at your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, piss drunk, begging for you to let him inside.

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A million years ago someone asked if I had a redbubble for fanart and I finally got around to making one. So check it out maybe, hey?

Lemme know if something’s missing or doesn’t look right and I’ll hook you up. 

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█░     HIGH SUMMONER ( 大召喚士 )

He did not know what was proper. He had never been faced with a maester, at least not like this: one on one. Of course, he knew how to act during a service, a speech. But, this was different. Seymour, after all, was not only a maester but one of the Guado people as well. Braska, in truth, knew little of them, only what he had been taught. It was only recently that they had come to Yevon. And that fact made the summons he’d received all the more unusual, in truth.

After all, he had been excommunicated. A summoner or no, he was no longer of them, for better or worse. He sighed to himself, gently, at the thought. The act soothed him; his nerves eased.

And at that he found it in him to bow, properly. He motioned Yevon’s prayer, his head bowed low. It stayed there, even as he spoke. He would not look up until he had been addressed.

     “ Your Grace… ”