It's a Gif, You Keep Those

Bitches be like "sorry I have other plans, I can't go out" when their other plans consist of reading gay fanfic and crying

It's me, I'm Bitches

Bitches be like "ugh I've been so busy this summer, sorry I haven't been able to go out" when really they were eating junk food and crying over gay fanfiction the whole time

It's me, I'm Bitches

I think something that is so intrinsic to the queer experience is staying up all night, reading or watching a gay love story on your phone, holding back sobs. Knowing that you could have this one day, that you could be this happy one day. But for now, you have the same four scraps of hope. And while they can be badly written, or unrealistic, and sometimes not even meant for queer eyes; they are yours. And for the night you can hold this hope in your hands and pretend that you are entitled to your own love story, outside of the screen. And you don’t have to be so afraid until the morning comes.

Happy birthday to His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor ✨💕

“wanting to fuck a man is easy. wanting to kiss one is harder.”

castiel would've brough the end of the worlds for dean if he asked. rememeber in 91w cas says “what does it matter if france is coming down around us, and I'm losing men, and I'm losing my mind – what does any of it fucking matter – if I get to be near to you.” IT'S LITERALLY CANON CAS

“…reminds me of this other time, someone was telling a joke, and it went, ‘what do you call a man with no head who goes out driving his automobile on the highway’ and we didn’t even realise Novak was listening, but he comes past and goes, “Improbable, mostly”. Jesus. It’s in the way he says it, trust me. All straight-faced and serious, somehow it’s hilarious. Anyway, good to hear you’re feeling a little better now, write as soon as you hear from dad, and you take care – of yourself and of Jess. Or else. Charlie and Joe say hi. Bitch. T-4 Sergeant Winchester 91W1O, Company B, 116th Infantry Regiment 29th Infantry Division United States Army” ‘NINETY ONE WHISKEY” by komodobits ALL FIC MOODBOARD GIFSETS

I can’t with him

i mean honestly its not really like lisa and dean HAD to be romantic yknow? they lived together and raised a kid together sure but it was never. yknow, i dont think it was about sex or anything i mean they had the chance to show that angle if it was and instead it was really just more about a sense of family and domesticity. i think that love - which, once again, took the form of physical closeness and living together and also having a kid - being read as inherently romantic is a little well i mean thats one interpretation but lets not really go there you know haha

Mean Girls (2004)

October can’t come soon enough

IT IS AUGUST

This has been in my likes since last year. It is time.

This is the 21st night of September skeleton. He only appears once a year.

Unmute !

[Two people dancing to “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire]

Maybe Dean shouldn’t have said yes to Jack’s insistent begging for a treehouse in the backyard, but as they walked through the home improvement store with Cas pushing the cart, collecting wood, ropes, and nails (and a plastic set of tools for Jack to use), the smile on Jack’s face as he tugged on Dean’s hand was absolutely worth all the hard work they had ahead of them. He’d never seen Jack so excited, and when Dean looked over at Cas, the look of absolute devotion he saw in Cas’ soft smile made his heart lurch in his chest. Oh yes, this definitely was the best decision they’d ever made.

“More wood, Daddy, more wood,” Jack chanted as Dean placed another set of plywood into the cart and Cas added some shingles for the roof.

Reaching down, Dean plucked Jack up from the floor to balance him on his hip. “What do you think, buddy? Enough wood now?” he asked, letting Jack see their little stash of supplies.

Jack nodded, pulling at Dean’s hair happily. “Treehouse time?”

Cas reached out, tugging on Jack’s little boot with a smile. “Yeah, time to go home and start building the treehouse.”

Stacking the supplies into the Impala had been an adventure all on its own, and by the time they got home, Jack was fast asleep in his carseat. “I’ll grab Jack if you want to get the supplies into the backyard?” Cas asked.

Heart skipping a beat in his chest, Dean tugged Cas across the bench seat into a soft lingering kiss.

Cas kissed him back slowly, breaking apart to rest their foreheads together. “What was that for?”

“I love you. Both of you,” Dean said in response.

Half an hour later, all the materials were in the backyard underneath the tall maple tree. Jack came barrelling out the backdoor with his little toy set of tools attached to his little belt, with Cas carrying a tray of lemonade.

“Papa said I could help,” Jack said, crashing into Dean’s leg and latching on.

Running his fingers through Jack’s hair, Dean crouched down until he was level with Jack. “Have you got your tools?”

“Yes,” Jack grinned, brandishing his little plastic hammer with a proud salute.

Glancing up, Dean locked eyes with Cas, who gave him the most smitten look he’d ever seen. Dean nodded his head, and Cas swooped in to scoop Jack up into his arms, which made Jack scream with laughter.

“Alright Squirt, let’s get to work,” Dean said once Cas had safely boosted Jack up onto the lowest branch. The former-angel’s hands never left Jack’s back; a constant bracket of support as they started to put together the floor of the treehouse.

Days merged into weeks of work. Each afternoon, Jack all but begged to work on the structure; tugging Dean’s hand or pulling at Cas’ leg to get their attention. “Papa, please. Treehouse time,” Jack whined as he wrapped his hand around Cas’ finger until he coaxed them all back outside into the yard.

Dean had been so sure Jack would get bored, even going so far as telling Cas in bed that first night that Jack would lose interest in helping within a couple days. But instead it was the opposite.

Jack walked around all day with his toy-belt of tools; constantly ready to hand Dean whatever tool was needed.

“Hand me the hammer, kiddo,” Dean would say from halfway up the tree. Jack happily pulled his hammer from the belt at the same time Cas offered Dean a real hammer. Dean would pretend to use Jack’s toy one first, before quietly sneaking in the real one to knock the wood into place. Dean often hoisted Jack into his lap and let the toddler tap his plastic hammer against the wood, pretending Jack had gotten the boards into place.

“Hand Daddy the wrench, sweetheart,” Cas instructed after one of their many breaks of sitting on the porch with glasses of lemonade or juice, utterly beaming at their son as Jack placed the toy into Dean’s outstretched hand.

Slowly but surely, day by day, the treehouse started to take shape. On the final day of construction, Cas took Jack out to get some small chairs and a table to go inside the house while Dean completed the finishing touches.

There was one last thing that needed doing, and Dean couldn’t wait for his family to come home and make the house their own. He’d spent the last week in the garage at night creating a tool Jack could use instead of the knife that he and Cas could wield.

Finally, Jack came bounding outside with a little wooden chair in his hand while Cas carried a plastic table. “Daddy, look what Papa and I found,” Jack said with a grin.

“A table and chairs? Now we can have tea time in the treehouse,” Dean said, kissing Jack on the top of the head before turning to Cas. “Got a surprise for you both. I thought we could carve our names into the door. To make it ours. Made a special tool for Jack so he can do it himself and we can use my knife,” Dean said, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist.

Cas’ hand stroked across Dean’s cheek tenderly. “Did you know I love you?” Cas murmured, leaning in to place a quick peck to Dean’s lips.

Suddenly, Jack was at their side, tugging at Dean’s arm and asking what the surprise was. Twenty minutes later, their names were carved into the door.

Dean, Cas, and Jack W.

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