deanlovescasbutt:

its-the-apocalypse-motherfuckers:

schellys-mysteryanon:

-wondersmith:

Yeah I need more fics in which the roles are reserved. Please.

Castiel begins to wonder what kind of God would send an angel like Dean.  In fact, he’s beginning to wonder what kind of angel Dean even was.  He had only known the angel for maybe three minutes and he could already tell he wasn’t going to like him.

“I’m an angel and I pulled your ass outta hell,” Dean grinned, “Couldn’t you tell?’

“Oh, you mean by this?” Castiel struggled with his coat and sweater, but eventually he pulls them down and lifts up his white t-shirt, showing a flaming red handprint on his shoulder.

“In my defense…” Dean started, “You were struggling.  It was like you didn’t want to be saved or something.”

Castiel looked down, pulling his layers back on.  He didn’t.  After what he’d done… Dean was at his side in an instant.

“Look, you’re important,” Dean said, “Really, really, important.  So you just need to suck it up and accept your destiny.”

“And I suppose you’re my personal angel?” Castiel mused on that.

“I’m a soldier of heaven wise guy,” Dean snapped, “Don’t think I’m just gonna perch on your shoulder and tell you what to do.  You ain’t the only human out there.”

“You pulled me out, you marked me, and you’re not my angel?” Castiel huffed.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Dean growled, vanishing in a rustle of feathers.

Castiel moaned.  That could have gone a lot better.

as;ldfja MORE PLS

berryciesta:

Kinda like a panel redraw but I just wanted to draw Aradia.

rokudomukuro:

WHY DIDNT HE WIN AND GO FOR SWEDEN

la-la-la-la-love-is-dead:

Image source SVT
YOHIO announcing the Swedish vote on Eurovision.

secretlymisha:

as far as i can tell from my dash there’s some sort of gay musical olympics going on that only europe was invited to

dunwall:

connorkawaii:

“take a shot for every time the UK doesnt get points”

at least the alcohol is free

bennetwilcox:

eurovision is divided into two parts

the first part is where all the countries laugh at each other’s performances and the other part is where we all get at each other’s throats because we didn’t get points from each other

holepsi:

YOU

HAVE

NO

FUCKING

IDEA

HOW

MUCH

I

LOVE

EUROVISION

zombieskully:

unlessler:

CHOTTO MATTE, LORAX-SAN…

IM………

(Source: wansura)

savedtheumbrella:

“I know what you are…”

“Say it. Out loud.”

“Gay opera dubstep vampire.”

wyte-one-thousand:

pleiadian-princess:

radagastlovesyou:

you-are-another-me:

There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.



In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.



The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP

Reblog for eternity.

(Source: thegodmolecule)

▶ If Yahoo actually takes a second to look at Tumblr, maybe they’ll realize they’re just buying a bunch of porn

immortal-complexity:

the-alchemist-ed:

think twice Yahoo—

think. twice.

For the love of God, signal boost this if possible.

zarry:

people who always change their opinions to match with someone elses  

novibot:

beesmygod:

eurovision

FINALLY

and to be honest it would have done better purely on the novelty factor instead of that weird 90s celtic rave shit Ireland had goin on