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no longer swimming alone.
Hey, I'm Steph =>
I am 21 and I am studying Marine Biology and English and I just finished my minor in Chem, woot woot!
I like where I'm headed. I can get used to being this happy.

SPN Family: "I rather have you, cursed or not."
Bye, loves!

125,651 notes8.2710:47 PMsource
casey459:


tonystaarks:


efflorescentia:


canhasactuallife:


rcmclachlan:


“Check this out.” Sam turns the laptop toward Cas, who blinks at it curiously. “The ESO’s got some incredible photos. They just uploaded a series of open clusters, and some of them are mind-blowing.”
Dean snorts from the bed, the remote control pointed at the TV like a weapon. Fifty channels, plus free HBO, and nothing’s on? How is that even possible? “You wanna show him mind-blowing? Look in my bookmarks under ‘pole dancing championship’.”
There is a moment of silence, tense enough that even Dean manages to tear his eyes away from what must be Telemundo. They’re speaking Spanish and just broke out into a dance routine. This is why the American media sucks.
“Cas? Dude, you okay?”
“This image,” Cas says quietly, eyes clouded with weariness and a thousand sleepless nights. Adapting to the routines of humanity hasn’t been kind to him. “It’s —”
“It’s…” Sam cranes his neck and squints at the monitor. “The Pleiades. Probably the most recognizable cluster there is.”
“Why do you even know that? No, seriously, how does that shit affect our lives at all?”
“Shut the hell up, Dean.”
“Sandalphon.”
Cas stares at the screen, eyes soft, lashes dipping with what can only be pain. He reaches out to touch — something Sam’s yelled at him for doing countless times — and gently places his fingertips upon it, treating it like the most precious gift he’s ever received. And it might be. The Winchesters have never been much for gift-giving, which is a shitty life to introduce Cas into. Normal people get gifts all the time. The last thing Dean gave him was a stick of gum.
God dammit.
Dean rolls out of bed and pads over, resting an arm carelessly over the back of Cas’s shoulders. “Say again?”
“Sandalphon, my old general,” Cas says, tilting his head. “This is… She was a brilliant tactician. She led the first battalion against Lucifer during the First War.”Sam exhales softly. “What happened?”
“She… decided that Lucifer’s way was right. She Fell.”
An awkward silence stretches between them, an eternity before Sam clicks on the next picture. Cas expels a breath like it physically hurts him to hold it in.
“Chazaquiel.”
They go through maybe forty pictures of open clusters, which Dean still really doesn’t understand, Cas naming each of them as a brother or sister — “Penemue, Amaros, Arkas, Kochab…” — before they come to an image that is, admittedly, breathtaking. Dean lets out a low whistle and nudges Cas’s neck with his arm, fingers brushing the worn fabric of Dean’s old ACDC shirt, a bit too big over Cas’s thin shoulders.
“That one fucking rocks,” he says, and nudges Cas again. “Who’s that?” 
Cas sucks in a shuddering breath and leans to rest his head on Dean’s stomach, fingers reaching out once more for the monitor.
“Me.”


 LKDFJDSLKFJADS;LFKADSJF;LDSKFJ;DSLKFJ;LADSKFJ;ADSLKFJAS;DLKFNUASD;OAIFAJ;LKAJR;OIUD;OAFIDSU;OAIERJFLKDSJF;ODSIFJLDFKGHDF;OIUG;DFOIGSJF;GSKDFG;LSHG;TOIERUJ;LKJDFLGIUDROITNRLKGDF;OIDUJAFLKDSJFOIAUDFKLDSJSIODFU;ADSILFDSLFIUEOIJDLKJ


THIS IS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL AND ALL OF THE FEELINGS


#this might just be my favorite fanfic of Dean/Cas that does not consist any porn whatsoever


Excuse me while I remove my jaw from the floor

casey459:

tonystaarks:

efflorescentia:

canhasactuallife:

rcmclachlan:

“Check this out.” Sam turns the laptop toward Cas, who blinks at it curiously. “The ESO’s got some incredible photos. They just uploaded a series of open clusters, and some of them are mind-blowing.”

Dean snorts from the bed, the remote control pointed at the TV like a weapon. Fifty channels, plus free HBO, and nothing’s on? How is that even possible? “You wanna show him mind-blowing? Look in my bookmarks under ‘pole dancing championship’.”

There is a moment of silence, tense enough that even Dean manages to tear his eyes away from what must be Telemundo. They’re speaking Spanish and just broke out into a dance routine. This is why the American media sucks.

“Cas? Dude, you okay?”

“This image,” Cas says quietly, eyes clouded with weariness and a thousand sleepless nights. Adapting to the routines of humanity hasn’t been kind to him. “It’s —”

“It’s…” Sam cranes his neck and squints at the monitor. “The Pleiades. Probably the most recognizable cluster there is.”

“Why do you even know that? No, seriously, how does that shit affect our lives at all?”

“Shut the hell up, Dean.”

“Sandalphon.”

Cas stares at the screen, eyes soft, lashes dipping with what can only be pain. He reaches out to touch — something Sam’s yelled at him for doing countless times — and gently places his fingertips upon it, treating it like the most precious gift he’s ever received. And it might be. The Winchesters have never been much for gift-giving, which is a shitty life to introduce Cas into. Normal people get gifts all the time. The last thing Dean gave him was a stick of gum.

God dammit.

Dean rolls out of bed and pads over, resting an arm carelessly over the back of Cas’s shoulders. “Say again?”

“Sandalphon, my old general,” Cas says, tilting his head. “This is… She was a brilliant tactician. She led the first battalion against Lucifer during the First War.”

Sam exhales softly. “What happened?”

“She… decided that Lucifer’s way was right. She Fell.”

An awkward silence stretches between them, an eternity before Sam clicks on the next picture. Cas expels a breath like it physically hurts him to hold it in.

“Chazaquiel.”

They go through maybe forty pictures of open clusters, which Dean still really doesn’t understand, Cas naming each of them as a brother or sister — “Penemue, Amaros, Arkas, Kochab…” — before they come to an image that is, admittedly, breathtaking. Dean lets out a low whistle and nudges Cas’s neck with his arm, fingers brushing the worn fabric of Dean’s old ACDC shirt, a bit too big over Cas’s thin shoulders.

“That one fucking rocks,” he says, and nudges Cas again. “Who’s that?” 

Cas sucks in a shuddering breath and leans to rest his head on Dean’s stomach, fingers reaching out once more for the monitor.

“Me.”

 LKDFJDSLKFJADS;LFKADSJF;LDSKFJ;DSLKFJ;LADSKFJ;ADSLKFJAS;DLKFNUASD;OAIFAJ;LKAJR;OIUD;OAFIDSU;OAIERJFLKDSJF;ODSIFJLDFKGHDF;OIUG;DFOIGSJF;GSKDFG;LSHG;TOIERUJ;LKJDFLGIUDROITNRLKGDF;OIDUJAFLKDSJFOIAUDFKLDSJSIODFU;ADSILFDSLFIUEOIJDLKJ

THIS IS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL AND ALL OF THE FEELINGS

#this might just be my favorite fanfic of Dean/Cas that does not consist any porn whatsoever

Excuse me while I remove my jaw from the floor

38,687 notes8.2710:47 PMsource
12,958 notes8.2710:43 PMsource
1,312 notes8.2710:41 PMsource

i-have-an-acklehol-problem:

**me during  the Supernatural hiatus**

image

750 notes8.279:58 PMsource

the-winchesters-and-their-angel:

fleurdean:

DO YOU GET IT

EVERYBODY CAN GO HOME, THIS POST WINS!

68,072 notes8.279:53 PMsource

harryhickey:

sadderdays:

garlic bread is fucking gross

report this blog

269,840 notes8.279:51 PM

humanistrambles:

the single most accurate description of this movie i have seen

296,877 notes8.279:51 PMsource

chryswatchesgot:

Chrys Watches GoT [x]

16,275 notes8.279:51 PMsource

tastefullyoffensive:

Crazy Ideas That Just Need to Happen Already [via]

Previously: Mind-Boggling Shower Thoughts

268,329 notes8.279:50 PMsource
The female doesn’t want a rich man or a handsome man or even a poet, she wants a man who understands her eyes if she gets sad, and points to his chest and say: ‘Here is your home country.’

Nizar Qabbani 

Arab poets man. I swear. 

(via jannatulfirdous)

31,037 notes8.279:48 PMsource
110,081 notes8.279:48 PMsource

“She’s done such fabulous work this season which you will see. She’s an absolute pleasure.” - Peter Capaldi on working with Jenna Coleman

2,499 notes8.279:47 PMsource