Female
Procrastinator
Nerd
Destiel Shipper
Lucifer is my guide
Crowley Voter
Cola Zero and knitting addict
WoW Player
For the Horde! For Vol'jin!

dean-bangs-cas-in-the-impala:

suchfunarewe:

im-an-angel-y0u-ass:

ohanastiel:

luftytwo:

the-fandom-angel:

secretlymisha:

deanisanactualprincess:

keep-the-muffins:

heavenandhellcastiel:

misha-collins:

Just let me document my sexual frustration.

imageI feel your pain

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god, this asshole.

The

things

this man

does

to

me

The 

things

I

would

let

this

man

do

to

me

well

fuck

me

sideways

u

hot 

little

shit

fcuk you and your cute goddamn face

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THIS FUCKER

image

stole

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MY

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FRIKKIN

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OVARIES 

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FUCK YOU

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you are just to perfect 

*AGGRESSIVELY SAVES ALL THE GIFS OF MISHA COLLINS*

If I die today, blame this fucking post.

Also, I will never stop finding it amusing how Tumblr compliments are mostly insults paired with devotion paired with yelling and anger.

*dies in agony* You fucking sexy bastard

(via bruisedcastiel)

profoundsoulmates:

misha-bawlins:

fuckingprincecaspian:


LIP QUIVER.

oh my fucking god i actually have never noticed that before and can you really take a look at that fucking subtle as shit lip quiver and tell me there is nothing gay going on between them?
Cas is an angel. Cas has never cried, and probably never will. But here, in this moment, where Dean is disappointed and let down by him, Castiel’s fucking lip quivers. He can’t believe what he’s just done, knows he’s made a huge mistake, and the fact that Dean wants nothing to do with him is such an agonizing thought that this stoic motherfucker is going to cry.
And of course, he zaps out of there before we see it, but you know, wherever the hell he went, the second he was alone, the strength went out of his legs and his knees buckled. He crouched down on his haunches, pushed his palms hard against his burning eyes to try and stop the tears from flowing, and let out a couple sobs before he stood back up, wiped his eyes (which he will never admit were wet) and let his usual façade settle back onto his face while he made up his mind: nothing, and I mean nothing, not Heaven, not Hell, and not God, was more important to him than Dean Winchester.

I would like to applaud the acting of Misha Fucking Collins.
I am amazed at how well he thinks through his character, to the minor details that aren’t scripted.

Are we gonna talk too of how Dean knows, he knows what Castiel feels for him, he’s manipulating him because he knows. 

profoundsoulmates:

misha-bawlins:

fuckingprincecaspian:

LIP QUIVER.

oh my fucking god i actually have never noticed that before and can you really take a look at that fucking subtle as shit lip quiver and tell me there is nothing gay going on between them?

Cas is an angel. Cas has never cried, and probably never will. But here, in this moment, where Dean is disappointed and let down by him, Castiel’s fucking lip quivers. He can’t believe what he’s just done, knows he’s made a huge mistake, and the fact that Dean wants nothing to do with him is such an agonizing thought that this stoic motherfucker is going to cry.

And of course, he zaps out of there before we see it, but you know, wherever the hell he went, the second he was alone, the strength went out of his legs and his knees buckled. He crouched down on his haunches, pushed his palms hard against his burning eyes to try and stop the tears from flowing, and let out a couple sobs before he stood back up, wiped his eyes (which he will never admit were wet) and let his usual façade settle back onto his face while he made up his mind: nothing, and I mean nothing, not Heaven, not Hell, and not God, was more important to him than Dean Winchester.

I would like to applaud the acting of Misha Fucking Collins.

I am amazed at how well he thinks through his character, to the minor details that aren’t scripted.

Are we gonna talk too of how Dean knows, he knows what Castiel feels for him, he’s manipulating him because he knows. 

death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 
He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.
He eats every deep fried concoction possible.
When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.
Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.
“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”
Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.
Dean takes the bag, mystified.
“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

#And Dean turns back and walks back into the gates#He treks up an inclined road until it flattens and curves around#When he reaches his heaven Dean raises a free hand above his head and yells #’SAM#CAS #LOOKIT! PIE!’ (x)

death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 

He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.

He eats every deep fried concoction possible.

When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.

Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.

“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”

Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.

Dean takes the bag, mystified.

“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

   (x)

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(Source: jenarcherwood, via destielmybeatingheart)