you freaking duck

Favorite bias picture challenge

Okay bish. This is gonna be long. I tried. I really tried to just freaking do what is required from me for ONCE. But you know that I CAN’T. Not when it comes to BTS or Jimin. So. Cutest ghost I’ve ever met, @mimibtsghost tagged me in this challenge. The rules are simple: • Pick ONE bias • Pick ONE picture & •Use the hashtag #BiasPicTag

I think it’s pretty obvious at this point that my bias is Jimin. You know. Park Jimin from BTS, most amazing group ever, they won BBMAs and everything. So, I managed to choose my favorite picture of him:

Because, you know. It contains all my favorite stuff. Effortlessly beautiful? Check. Black hair? Check. Plump lips and front teeth on display? Check. This specific turtleneck striped tee? Check. (I love that T-shirt and I want it, so I’m currently on a not-so-expensive look-alike T-shirt hunt.)

But Mimi, you had to see this coming. I’m very clear about my love for Jimin. And there’s not a rule to NOT include bunch of other favorite photos, right? RIGHT? Well, so here it comes. I love these ones very much, too. My biggest weakness is his dark hair. Look. Just look at this casual dark haired Jimin. 

If you, just like me, had troubles breathing then brace yourself, because black haired Jimin performing is whole different level of out-worldly experience. And like… when he sings House of Cards… I can’t. Really.

 But of course, it’s not just black hair that gets me. Just look at my perfect bias at fansigns, having fun, just breathtakingly EXISTING.

And should I even mention that every. Single. One. Of. His. Selfies. Is. Golden?

…that would be it. Really. I couldn’t avoid making it this long and still I’m not satisfied because I want to drown in his beauty and personality and… Like… I connect to him on so many weird levels. I never thought I can love someone I’ve never met and they don’t even know I exist, this hard. But I do. This guy just *chose* me to stan him (until then I was convinced I just stan jikook as a whole, both on the same level :D) so I did and I don’t think I will ever stop in my life. Jiminie is special. K, sorry, bye. 

Also I tag whoever who wants to do this, specifically my lovely @mochishake, @run-sober-wolf & @nini17 but don’t feel pressured please ^^ You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to!. :)) (also @parkesjimin if you’d like, you could do this, too!)

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hey uh

taking a break from animation hw to um

say thank you or smthing???

thanks for all the really sweet tags that compliment my style and praise my expressions and just generally-REALLY nice stuff?

idk this is already weird i just feel like i should express my gratitude cause reading tags and getting asks like, it all makes something I love doing all the more worth while and I’m really, really thankful for that.

sorry to intrude on your feed okaayyy

Wounded

Description: Dean is wounded on a hunt and the Reader takes care of him.

“Jesus Christ, would you be careful?” Dean practically spits the words, throwing his head back against the grungy hotel pillow in his agony.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you mutter, but truthfully you’re worried.

It was supposed to be a routine hunt, salt and burn, nothing serious. But when another hunter showed up unexpected and unannounced, not exactly right in the head and with an itchy trigger finger, things got hairy. 

Dean took a knife to the chest for you, the blade just a few inches shy of the oldest Winchester’s heart. He was lucky. You’d grabbed the other hunter’s arm just in time to knock his swing off course, leaving Dean with a gash across his chest instead of a stab wound, but if you’d been too late…

It’s something you don’t want to think about.

You find yourself, not for the first time, wishing that Sam or Cas could be here. Sam is a million times better than you at stitching up wounds, Cas could just zap Dean with his healing magic, but Sam is several hours away working a separate case with Charlie and Cas hasn’t responded to any of your desperate prayers.

“Okay,” you mutter, using your knife to cut away more of Dean’s shirt which is sticky with dried blood and plastered to the wound. Dean cries out again when you rip away the fabric and you whisper some apologies as you examine the cut.

It’s shallow, something you’re thankful for, but bleeding like a stuck pig and running the risk of infection with all of the God-knows-what on the other hunter’s knife. You find a small sewing kit in the bathroom of the dingy hotel room, but the thread isn’t nearly thick enough to hold stitches.

“What’s the word, doc?” Dean is watching you carefully, measuring your reactions, and so for him you paste on a cheeky smile.

“You’ll live.” You get to your feet and approach the mini fridge, expecting it to be fully stocked with cheap whiskey like every other place you’ve stayed it, but it’s completely empty. “Crap. We have any alcohol in the car?” you ask over your shoulder.

“No,” Dean replies. “We were supposed to go on a supply run after the hunt.”

“Well. That’s just fan-freaking-tastic.” You duck into the bathroom and grab a towel, pressing it against the knife wound and instructing Dean to hold it as you shrug on your jacket and scoop up the keys from where they lay on the bedside table. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Hey, Y/n, come on don’t just leave me here!”

“Fifteen minutes!”

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