What am I doing with my life?
I'm not even sure myself
Who the hell knows

holyfrackles:

dean is in some bar and there’s a woman walking towards him. high heels, leather pants, curves you wouldn’t believe, the face of a goddess; she’s got it all. her eyes are fixed on dean, her full lips curved in a knowing smirk, but he doesn’t see her. she studies him, noticing how straight he stands, how cold he seems. it’s new, but she likes it. there’s something about the way he looks so cut off from the rest of the world that makes her want to find his key and open him, look inside and try to put some of the pieces back in place.

she’s standing right behind him now and she puts a hand on his shoulder. he turns around with a charming smile, one that she’s seen before, but it disappears quickly, leaving his expression blank, unreadable. the corner of his mouth twitches, his smug grin begging to come back, and his eyes go wide. he stares at the woman standing in front of him, holding his breath without even realizing it and blinking a couple times, as if to make sure he’s not dreaming, and then he finally says it. 

"rhonda?"


(x)


elviscastiel:

misha sometimes I really worry about you


pansexualfacts:

Fact: The reason many people say that Pansexuals don’t exist is because they are actually just swarms of bees in human clothing. Do not make the bees angry.



blastortoise:

Why would you intentionally eat olives like what in the fuck? are you okay? is someone forcing you to do this? You need me to call the police let me know so we can help you



twistandlove:

[x]

Misha Collins, ladies and gentlemen.



casthewise:

For Ali, because MRIs sound like they suck 

“That’s it, Mister Novak, deep breaths.”

Castiel squeezes his hands into fists, tendons pulling taut. He inhales until he can’t anymore, holding his breath before letting go in one shaky exhale. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod

“Relax, Castiel, you’re doin’ great. I’m gonna need you to unclench your fists for me, can you do that?”

Even through the tinny intercom, the tech’s warm voice bleeds relaxation into the tunnel-like tube. Slowly, Cas’s muscles unclench. His eyes squeeze shut in compensation. “H-How much longer?” he grits out.

“Half an hour, bud, hang in there.”

“Easier said than done.”

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thekingslover:

"I didn’t use to believe in love. But, hell, I never believed in angels either. Guess you proved me wrong. Twice.”


rohoshi-shipper:



novachester:

misha “squints a lot” collins (x)


allthefandomslivehere:

My grandma’s reaction to Hans’ betrayal. I love it.