whenever I create a text post
reblog if u were on tumblr before yahoo bought it
IT’S LITERALLY BEEN LIKE A DAY AND WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TRYING TO ACHIEVE WITH THIS POST
only a true tumblrite would understand. you just outed yourself as a yahooligan
omg cas meeting misha would be like a puppy meeting an owl
$5 says Misha would hit on Cas for fun
$10 says Misha would end up making Castiel feel as uncomfortable as Cas makes everyone else. ”I don’t understand why you’re so close. Could you step back a little? You should talk to Dean about personal space. He can explain it. Misha? Misha, please. Remove your finger from my nose. This isn’t funny.”
“I don’t understand. Why is your index finger in my nostril?”
“shhhh put on the cheese dress”
whatever choices we make whatever details we alter we always end up here
[[CASUALLY SPRINKLES SALT ON YOU]]
[[CASUALLY BURNS THE BONES]]
[[CASUALLY WARMS HANDS OVER THE FIRE]]
school doesnt even test your intelligence it tests your memory
it tests my patience
it tests my ability to hold my pee
it tests my ability to keep calm and not slap a bitch
There are four types of people at school.
First you have your Ravenclaws
then your Hufflepuffs
then your Gryffindors
and lastly, your Slytherins.
to anyone who is utterly isolated and doesn’t know about tuesdays this must be the most confusing gifset like ok this attractive guy is eating a taco and now another attractive guy waking up was he dreaming about the taco did the taco guy wake him up how was he sitting at the table if he was sleeping what do these gifs have to do with each other
I was expecting the text to explain, not further confuse me.
[muffled heat of the moment in the distance]
Permission to change “are you satan” to “are you metatron” because Metatron is actually the embodiment of true evil in this world whereas Satan was just pretty chill.
“ Satan was just pretty chill.”
what the hell is even going on in your fandom anymore
let’s just say that the apocalypse was less stressful
“Actually, do you know what, ignore me.”
John. John Watson. He just killed a man to save me from myself. Who does that? God.
Look at him: he’s not like an ordinary man. He just shot someone and he’s perfectly fine. Not a hair out of place. He’s just standing there with those nerves of steel, those steady hands, he’s playing innocent, standing on the other side of the tape like he’s uninvolved. He thinks I won’t figure it out, he thinks I won’t know. He’s not ashamed of it or proud of himself; he just did what he thought was right. He didn’t even do it to impress me; he’s not trying to make a point, he’s not demonstrating his usefulness to me. He’s not going to hold it over my head, either. Is he. He found his way here just to protect me. Gratis. As if that’s completely natural.
Natural for him, maybe. Yes. Completely natural for him. My hidden jewel: John Watson. How could I have been so blind?
I would be dead by now without him. I chose the wrong pill. I was wrong twice tonight. A true failure of an evening, by all accounts: two massive failures of observation, more if you count the details. It doesn’t matter: we’re both still here. Second chance: I’m paying attention to you now, John Watson. I see it all in you now.
He came after me, even after I told him I was married to my work. Even after I left him and ran off on my own, twice. I wonder if there’s a way to revisit that conversation, hmm. Not really an area in which I have any real expertise. Is that what he wants? How does one go about doing that?
I thought he was ordinary. I didn’t know what I was dealing with. Unfair! He was hiding in plain sight. He thinks of himself as ordinary, so he appears to be ordinary. To the naked eye, at least. But he’s not. Most definitely not. His hands aren’t even shaking, not even now. Look at that.
Oh, I’m keeping him.
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