abrx:
johnnyramonesanticommunistshirt:
When you got that Friday feeling
What color is that guy’s shirt?
When you roll a natural 20 in a balance check
I’m sweating
Gravity awards
2 years ago · 207,569 notes · Reblogged from papay-ya
high waisted pants? id rather be HIGH and WASTED… and PANTS
2 years ago · 30,529 notes · Source · Reblogged from fawkessong
happy
twenty-years anniversary of the fireworksfourth of july!spn hiatus creations | week six
↳ “i need him. he needs me”
2 years ago · 1,451 notes · Reblogged from sketchydean
2 years ago · 1,920 notes · Source · Reblogged from jaredpadasaxxy
is this the year i change my tumblr bio to the knowingly vague *~20-something~*??? have we reached that point in time??
2 years ago · 4 notes
guess who shaved today????!?
2 years ago · 2 notes
2 years ago · 132,583 notes · Source · Reblogged from owlmylove
- Every other Tony nominated show:
- Hamilton doesn't hesitate
- It exhibits no restraint
- It takes
- And it takes
- A̝̱͚̋N͕̬̻̔̐̀ͩ̕D̨̦̣̖͎̰̽ͥ̄̒ ͚͉͍̥́̀͂̈́Ḯ̛̜̜̦̼T͍̆ͯ͒ͬ͒ ̭̗̪̬͖͓̟Ţ̣̭͖͈̮ͤ̌͗ͨ̊ͭA̡̝̘̖͔̭K͚̲ͅͅE̜͕̜̦̜̥̟͑̌̾̾̇͞S̺̫̞̟̤̭
2 years ago · 6,150 notes · Source · Reblogged from sugar-haus
Lin-Manuel Miranda accepts the Tony for Best Original Score
2 years ago · 24,642 notes · Reblogged from boydcrowder
The Supernatural Gif Challenge | sasquatchandleatherjacket vs. @stephanie-likes
round twenty | words | would you live a life of mistakes if it meant getting the one thing you truly desired?
2 years ago · 568 notes · Source · Reblogged from i-am-therefore-i-fight
time to get iT TOGETHER
2 years ago · 1 note
There is tenderness tangled with their limbs between the cotton sheets. Dean watches Sam sleep, an epiphany nestled at his fingertips while he traces the lines of his brother’s face. It’s late, or early, a moment that does not really exist in time and will only be a permanent feature in their memories. Dean touches Sam’s forehead, pushes the vagabond strands back and bends down to put his lips on the warm skin. He leaves a small kiss there, hoping it will sink beneath the skin and the bone and will reach Sam in his dreams. His lips stray down Sam’s temple, kiss , brush above Sam’s butterfly wings eyelashes, kiss , and follow the curve of his nose, kiss . Dean’s eyes are closed but when he brings his hand on Sam’s cheek, he feels under his thumb that beauty mark he wishes he knew less. It’s a barely there bump under his finger, but Dean would gladly die for it. His mouth recognizes it too, when he presses it there. Kiss .
Hazel eyes blink open, slightly unfocused as they come back to this, the here and ephemeral now, while the world ceases to exist around them. A thumb brushes the corner of Sam’s mouth and it’s a dandelion wish of a touch, but enough to have Sam smile softly. It’s a private smile, the ghost of the blinding grins Dean used to get when they were both too young to know the cost of careless freedom.
And here they are, barely visible around Sam’s mouth, those two parenthesis, the delicate frame of the most precious artwork Dean’s ever seen. He lets his finger trace their contours, afraid to smooth them out if he presses too much. There are bruises hiding under the pads on Dean’s fingers, ready to spring and stain everything he could ever call soft. But not this, not Sam’s dimples.Sam blinks sleepily, raising his chin a little to give Dean more access. He doesn’t make Dean ask, reads on his brother’s face a confession that will never see the color of morning kisses. I know what you’re doing Dean.
He doesn’t own much, just a beautiful gun shaped for his grip and bullet words resting on his tongue. But this, this is his too, for a couple of seconds. Sam’s trust, Sam’s love, Sam’s ghost of a smile, Sam’s dimples. The mole next to his nose, the pink of his lips, the long eyelashes lighter at the tip, the strand of hair that fell on his forehead. Dean can’t keep any of it in his empty pockets, and his greedy heart protests but he knows he’s lucky. Because Sam lets him have it all, and he could take it all back with a blink. Seeing those dimples is a privilege, and Dean knows it.
There is no beauty in forever, no hearts carved in stone that can outlive time and inevitability. It’s beautiful because it doesn’t last, and Sam is no exception. They’re not always there, the parenthesis around that smile. If Dean believed in God, he would call them miracle. As it is, he just shifts his head a little, and wonders if his kisses taste like pagans’ prayers on Sam’s lips. He buries his face in Sam’s neck, and feels Sam’s face shifting where it’s pressed against his temple. Maybe, if he’s lucky enough, Sam will still be smiling when Dean looks up. Maybe.
52 weeks of Sam and Dean (Ao3)
whoaeasytiger vs. @buticancarryyou
Prompt #17: Dimples (Ao3)
See Karri’s version (Freckles) (Ao3)
2 years ago · 104 notes · Source · Reblogged from wellcometothedarkside
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