Three Goblin Art
tannertan36
h
taylor price
@theartofmadeline
blake kathryn
Keni
Cosimo Galluzzi
Stranger Things
occasionally subtle
Show & Tell
titsay
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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Origami Around
🪼
Xuebing Du
oozey mess
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@coldhardcrowley
Chains || leximariefields (closed)
“Your boys just have a thing for keeping me in chains,” Crowley quipped. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”
He knew she had something with her that could probably kill him, but he hadn’t assumed an angel blade would be in her possession currently.
“As I said: no tricks,” he tried to raise his hands in innocence but the chains clattered. “Doubt they’d keep it in here. Heard something about the kitchen though.”
Chains || leximariefields (closed)
Crowley hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side slightly. Eyes narrowed, he flicked his tongue over his lower lip.
“Angels,” he muttered. “Must be something big, I imagine.”
Dean had some pent up rage last time he’d visited, that was for sure. And he knew it was something about good old Sammy boy. Sam and angels…what a conundrum.
“You wouldn’t happen to be feeling kind, would you?” His deep voice rang out. “Dean’s got his hands full, I imagine. And I need a tiny favor. Just a little one…”
She unconsciously followed the others tongue, not noticing the slight redness in her cheeks, but it was most likely too dark to see it. “Always trouble with the angels…..” she replied, looking away from him in thought.
“What does said favor involve hm?..darling” she said smoothly. She had remembered him to be a flirt the last time they conversed, but it was a long while ago, she was a different person then.
Crowley saw the way her eyes followed the movement of his tongue. He bit back another smirk. He had her.
“Just a little stretch,” Crowley purred, breathing evenly. “Y’see, those two have me under lock and key.” He moved his foot, hearing the jingle of the chains around his ankles, cuffed to the chair legs. “No tricks. Just a stretch.”
Chains || leximariefields (closed)
Crowley hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side slightly. Eyes narrowed, he flicked his tongue over his lower lip.
"Angels," he muttered. "Must be something big, I imagine."
Dean had some pent up rage last time he'd visited, that was for sure. And he knew it was something about good old Sammy boy. Sam and angels...what a conundrum.
"You wouldn't happen to be feeling kind, would you?" His deep voice rang out. "Dean's got his hands full, I imagine. And I need a tiny favor. Just a little one..."
All work and no play...
Well, you know how it goes 😉
Chains || leximariefields (closed)
@leximariefields
A soft groan left The King’s lips as he shifted in the seat. If he was correct, it’d been about 46 hours in the same position - hands caked with blood, back aching, boredom seeping from his pores.
The damn Winchesters.
This whole business was getting ridiculous. He craved a drink. He’d even take their crap whiskey if it meant he could feel the burn down his throat.
Just a stretch of the legs would be nice, even.
A loud thud brought Crowley out of his thoughts and he raised his chin, squinting to make out who finally came to chat.
He was expecting the Moose, really, but a small smirk played across his features when their eyes met.
It hadn’t been even a year since Lexi and the others moved in to the bunker, yet there was still so much she hadn’t seen yet. She was afraid that she would get lost in all honestly, but at least she was safe.
She wandered down the main corridor and faced a door. Dean told her that this should be the room for all the documents made by the men of letters. She cranked the door open and walked in, the door closing behind her. She jumped a bit at the sound because it was so loud, but this place was basically a fortress for the apocalypse, so what could you do?
She looked through a group of shelves when she heard someone clear their throat, then she turned around. The boys had parted the shelves to reveal a /dungeon/ sort of room, and Crowley was sitting in a chair smack dab in the middle, chains and collared and all. Her eyes met with his and widened, she tried to speak but her voice got caught in her throat. “Well…hi. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you… guess the boys like to hide you.” She laughed softly, trying to break the ice.
It was almost as if she hadn’t known he was still in here. What with the way she waltzed in, determination on her set shoulders. Unless she was playing with him. His mind wandered.
Wonders never cease.
“Hello,” his voice was deep, raspy from lack of use. “Come to keep me company, have you?”
He sat straighter, cracking his back, the slight jingle of the chains echoing in the room. Watching her behind the shelves he could see he’d startled her. There was a slight curiosity beyond the nonchalant facade she posed.
“Anything I could help with?” he knew she was down here for something and if he could even get a conversation out of it? All the better.
Chains || leximariefields (closed)
@leximariefields
A soft groan left The King’s lips as he shifted in the seat. If he was correct, it’d been about 46 hours in the same position - hands caked with blood, back aching, boredom seeping from his pores.
The damn Winchesters.
This whole business was getting ridiculous. He craved a drink. He’d even take their crap whiskey if it meant he could feel the burn down his throat.
Just a stretch of the legs would be nice, even.
A loud thud brought Crowley out of his thoughts and he raised his chin, squinting to make out who finally came to chat.
He was expecting the Moose, really, but a small smirk played across his features when their eyes met.
SN12.12 Crowley your heart is showing
Crowley you're back!
“It seems that I am. Miss me?”
Let him go, Fergus. Butt out.
Sometimes I get emotional because Crowley has so much on his shoulders and he has no one to talk to or trust and he’s basically alone in this world and someone HOLD ME.
supernatural au where everything is the same except Crowley is appreciated
OKAY BUT CROWLEY LITERALLY SAID HE HAS NO FRIENDS AND HE JUST LOST HIS SON AND HIS MOTHER DOESNT CARE ABOUT HIM THE WAY HE DESERVES
IM NOT OKAY
LET CROWLEY BE HAPPY 2K17
I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me ‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth.
Richard Siken, Wishbone (via 7-weeks)
