166 posts
1-800-arsonforsale - I Only Break My Favorite Toys. - Tumblr Blog
We deserve a Midam spinoff. I don't care if it's a low budget web series that Jake Abel does on his YouTube account or a full fledged TV show dedicated to Adam and Michael finding each other again, we deserve it.
He's literally one of my main kins
ill be like “ive had it” and two seconds later i will start enduring
i think everyone owes a debt of gratitude to jimmy eat world for the middle. you ARE in the middle of the ride. and everything WILL be just fine. and you SHOULD live right now and be yourself. and it DOESN'T matter if it's good enough for someone else. thank you jimmy eat world
if you had all the cash and resources to move wherever you wanted in the u.s where would ya go? just curious :)
Middle of nowhere in Montana or Alaska lol. Nice big wood cabin that looks like it was built in the 80s with a private road and a few acres of land for animals. At least an hour away from the nearest town. Somewhere up in the mountains or foothills.
wc 360, established destiel, kid!jack, angst
It's dark when Dean realizes he's crying.
He comes back to himself slowly. The migraine is still raging. His hands are white-knuckling the quilt. Tears have left his face dry and tight. His throat is so tight it's a miracle he's still breathing.
Is he breathing?
He must be.
Everything hurts.
Downstairs the front door opens and closes, letting in cold air along with a high pitched voice. The heat kicks on, covering up the low rumbled response.
Dean's throat closes impossibly tighter. They're going to find him and expect an explanation. But what explanation is there? How can he explain tears after spending the morning at the library with his husband and their son? After an afternoon playdate at the park? After spending a day in the November sunshine that melted yesterday's snow?
Footsteps pound up the stairs and Dean doesn't even try to hide.
"Dean?" A small voice says from the doorway. Dean looks up to see his son hesitate. He gives the boy a pitiful smile. Jack slowly approaches, the winter air clinging to him. He sandwiches Dean's face with his two little hands.
"We brought pizza."
Fresh tears spill from his eyes and Jack nods before turning to shout, "Da–ad! Can we eat upstairs?"
"Jack, you know the rules! We eat at the table!" Cas' voice carries up the stairs.
"I think we should eat up here tonight! It's DEFCON 5!" Cas was right, Jack was too young to watch the Office.
Dean blinks and Cas has taken Jack's place, hands sandwiching his face and all. Blue eyes full of worry search his and Cas nods too.
"Today was overstimulating, wasn't it?"
Dean feels his whole body clench as his face screws up and a sob escapes. Cas pulls him into a hug and they rock back and forth. Cas is talking but Dean can't make out any words. Jack returns with supplies for dinner and they settle on the rug beside the bed. Dean leans against Cas' chest; feels the rumble as he talks to Jack.
A plate is set on his lap.
Jack puts the sausage from his pizza on Dean's. Cas gives him the bacon.
Dean isn't hungry.
A redraw of one of my favourite scenes in the movie. Hooooly crap when i listen to the song that accompanies it, i get chills every time.
If it keeps you from killing yourself it's not stupid. This applies to anything btw.
*goes to Coachella in a white linen suit like an antebellum lawyer, sweating profusely and dabbing at my forehead with a handkerchief* now, I’m no fancy scientist, but would you folk know where a simple gentleman such as myself could obtain some acid? Now, I’m no big city lawyer, but could any of you fine youths point a country boy such as myself in the direction of some fucking acid?
fic set during s5 where dean prays to cas because he’s going a little crazy, alright, with everything that’s going on and at least cas doesn’t give him those looks that sam and bobby have been giving him lately, the ones that say are you really up for this, really, something happened to you in hell, didn’t it, and are you sure you can shoulder this? because dean is tired of that shit. course he’ll shoulder any burden that comes his way. that’s what he does, that’s what he’s for. but anyway for some reason he has a direct line to this nerdy angel who’s bigger than his body and all sizzling electricity and also a lot of adjectives dudes don’t use to describe other dudes. it’s not like anyone has to know.
anyway this angel sits next to him on the ratty old bed, they’re leaning against the squeaky, metal headboard and they have to kind of press up against each other to fit, and there’s no reason for him to be here, absolutely none at all, but dean….. yeah, dean is currently showing him his ivory grip colt. “dad let me pick her out when i was 17”, he says, voice scratchy, aiming for casual. he turns the gun over and over in his hands. pretty. lethal.
“oh”, cas says. “i guess i feel a… kinship of sorts with my blade, too. we’ve been through much together.” it slides out of his sleeve, smoothly. wordlessly they trade weapons and dean ain’t even… ain’t even worried about the fact that this supernatural being holds his gun carefully in his hands. dean wonders if he always touches things so gently. he shivers and wonders if the touch which left a handprint behind was of a gentle nature, too. outside, the sun is about to rise. he hasn’t slept. there’s a shoulder next to his and dean could rest his head on it if he wanted to.
he wants to.
i read it with dean voice 😁
woah this character is so cool i wish they were covered in blood their whole body trembling with a look of absolute horror on their face as theyre struggling to breathe in panic
me at the pearly gates: heyyy god
god: okay so look it's really straightforward the one rule is you can never have read fanfiction where the cw supernatural showrunner eric kripke fucks and doms a coked out twink-era jared padalecki over his desk like thats the only thing
me: okay listen 🤦
ever since I was a young lad I knew I wanted to be a middle-aged man with an undone tie around his neck who’s having a crisis so he goes to the bathroom to splash water on his face only to look up at himself in the mirror and wonder at the stranger looking back
Watched a httyd tribute and remembered how much I LOVE the Skrill!! It’s one of the most BADASS DRAGONS IN THE WHOLE FRANCHISE!!!
it feels awful to feel awful. thankfully, he's got meatlug
I love you cars with mitch matched doors, I love you trucks with different colored beds, I love you old boxy farm trucks, I love you vehicles that are always run out of something but will never leave you stranded in the snow, I love you big unessasary trucks with the kindest man inside, I love you mom vans with the sweetest most beautiful woman inside, I love you vehicles that have character
Can't believe it took me this long to realize that Death giving Sam his soul back even when Dean failed, besides the whole talk about souls, was also him basically saying "I'm gonna fix this for you so you can stop worrying about your brother and focus on you feathery boyfriend who's going a little unhinged over there, I need you focused child" and it just flew right over Dean's head (and mine)
ok but, the shot of the impala's wheels speeding back to the bunker after dean collapses and unresponsive and well. i am just thinking. sam is probs driving, and dean is obvs in the back seat which leaves jack and cas and well....i feel like if jack was back there with him he would've been panicking and might have acted impulsively like with cas and just used his soul magic to heal sam then and there (in the very next scene jack is so distraught and barges in to the infirmary insisting they let him use his powers to heal him). so...jack sitting shotgun and...and dean sprawled in the back with cas. cas holding him the whole ride back, anguished and still too weak to use his own grace to try anything.
I love early seasons supernatural aesthetics so much. The isolated highways, funky motel rooms, neon signs, shiny guns and shiny cars, leather jackets, old books, through a film camera lens in seasons one and two, makes for such a specific atmosphere. It transfers the isolation Sam and Dean experience so well, cramped into the seats of a 67’ Chevy impala, claustrophobically un-alone while individually lonely. The nasty, sometimes created with horrible special effects, monsters really do look monstrous, unsettling more than outright terrifying. With yellow eyes, in dirty clothes, glitching and pale. The whole colour palette is grey-ish and cold, you almost feel the contrasted darkness, the distrust, the nagging belief that something wicked may be hiding behind every corner, behind every corner of your own self as well. Idk. The blood looks dark, the sulfur looks sickeningly yellow, the skin looks unnaturally pale. It’s all so horror-coded, and gives such an atmosphere of instability in your own existence in the world, which aligns with the themes of the seasons. This atmosphere, to me, makes it a better horror show than if it had had better special effects and scarier monsters. Because the horrifying is in the daily existence, in how you are, rather than what you face.
Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run
supernatural, live free or twihard // roberta findlay, on the relationship between pornography and horror.