[theboythatwaskilled]

Working out has been a challenge for me since forever. Currently I'm doing workouts that the average peep could do without the struggle that I go through with it. And I'm learning that that is ok. Im at least doing them. And I've been consistent in them. Its not much but its better than what it was.

[no-effing-way-dude]

Reblog if trans men are valid or if trans woman are valid or non-binary people are valid or genderfluid people are valid, or if all of them are valid.

There is literally no reason to not reblog this. 

[batsguy]

reblog if your page is a safe space for ppl who use neopronouns

[theboythatwaskilled]

Felt cute, might delete later

(They/them)

[theboythatwaskilled]

What sucks about being human is that we are aware of our insignificance, our fragility. We really are nothing in the great scheme of the universe(s). We are so small and yet we still see the world revolving around us and what we do. We die so easily, accomplish very little in such long amounts of time. I feel myself questioning whether or not my contribution is worth anything in the entirety of existence. Truth is is most likely is not. Im not even a blip in existence. Then I'll die. When our sun dies out and our earth being used to build other planets and galaxies, chances are we will not be remembered. Now I keep saying these things as if there is a possibility that the improbable happens, because I'm a "dreamer of impossible dreams". I keep myself going because of all the things that are deemed impossible, I want be apart of the impossible. I want to do the impossible. And even though the possibility of me doing the impossible is astronomically small, I still feel like I can. Thats the other part of being human- hope, imagination, determination. The idea of maybe creating a real Voltron, or traveling in galaxies far far away helps me see that although my presence is unnoticed in the scheme of the universe, I still have a place. I'm here to make the impossible possible for the future.

[winchester-reload]

A letter to my Tumblr friends~

Keep reading

[backdraft-bimbo]

This proves my long-running theory that the fandom has always been superior to this show

[freewilldestiel]

what was the point of:

- there’ll be peace when you are done

- family don’t end with blood

- cas’ entire arc

- dean’s entire arc

- sam’s entire arc

- the confession ??????

- genuine destiel buildup for 12 years, not even subtext but actual fucking buildup

- the official song of the finale being ‘the night we met’ aka the destiel theme

- free will??? going against god’s plan ???????

- jack becoming the new god

- family don’t end with blood

- cas risking it all for dean since season 4

- all of dean’s bi coded scenes

- “nothing ever stays dead on supernatural”

- found family

- FAMILY DON’T END WITH BLOOD

- always keep fighting

- death is not the answer to ur struggles

- literally everything the show was ever supposed to stand for ?????

[azstiel]

well as Cas once said:

“Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it”

[distinguishedkingdomwolf]

Supernatural finale

For everyone who didn't watch the finale this is how it ends.

Dean and Sam are at a pie festival. After all they saved the world. They deserve this.

But the world is not in the habit of remaining saved so they head out, again, to fight someone.

And they're back to the low stake fighting that seems so familiar.

Dean gets crowded. 4? No 5? No 6! Enemies stand against him but Dean doesn't waver. He swings. He swings endlessly.

The next feeling is familiar too. The feeling of being pinned. The feeling of being out of escape routes, as a pile of dead lay around him.

Black that starts pulling at his vision.

But it's not dark enough.

He sees the worry break in his brothers face. He can see the eyes brimming with tears. He can see his brothers mouth move.

But the words don't seem to make it to him. He can a nake out a "no" a "please" and then the begs just start turning into one.

And Dean wants to say it'll be fine

But he doesn't.

Becuase amongst the familiar is soemthing new.

A finality. Something inside his heart telling him

This. Is. It.

So instead of false promises he reaches out his hands and Sam doesn't delay.

He feels the warmth. He can feel his brother holding him. And he wants to let go now. But not yet. Just a little more.

He manges his shaking fingers to cooperate. To hold his brothers face. He looks onto him with vision that isn't getting better.

How do people manage last words. How do people say the things they need to to the ones they love and let go.

How is he supposed to come close to writing the final paragraph on a story he swore they'd complete together.

There's a million things to say but he can spend the next 10 minutes ramblings and it would not be enough.

He can taste the flavour of iron slowly fill his mouth.

He grips Sam's hair. And he tries to focus just to have a few seconds of clarity from the fog threatening to take him any second now.

3 things.

He needs to say three times things.

“I am sorry ” for leaving you alone

“Take care ” stay safe be happy live well, and

“I love you”

And he beats the darkness to the punch. Closes his eyes. He can't see this.

He feels his brothers hand in his hair. And his tears on his jacket. Then the feelings fade out. Then there's nothing.

Then theres soemthing.

Golden light as he states onto mountains of green.

“Made it here after all, huh”

Says a voice.

Its warm.

And he's heard it so many times before.

And he's running now. As fast as his feet will carry him. And he leaps.

He's held by arms wrapped in a trench coat. Arms he thought he'd never feel again.

His breath is fast, like it is trying to escape him. He can feel his heartbeat through his ears. But his mind knows what to say.

"I.….lo- love you....too"

He manges before he slumps on the ground. Now laying next to Castiel.

“I was afraid. Afraid that I'd never get to say it back”

There is no response. But Dean doesn't let panic take him. He's done what he needed to do.

Above him an angel stares back. Arms placed to both sides of him. And the angel leanes in.

And before Dean knows it his lip are agianst his. And he can't tell who these tears belong to. But they envelop them both.

-------------

An angel and a man stand at the edge of world. Hand in lovable hand. They stare down.

They argue and they laugh, as they look onto the life of a particular man by the name Sam Winchester.

This is ‘life’ now. They share a warm bed, they have breakfast late, they tell the same stories over and over again.

They argue in jest when Sam approaches a woman, Castiel cheering, Dean saying he could do better. When Sam calls his son Dean, he smiles ear to ear, Castiel sulks ‘I was there too!’. They both cry when they see Sam teach his Son how to throw, creating memories he never got to have.

Darkness continues to exist but it no longer clouds them. They spent their lives facing it. It is some other young hero's struggle now.

They love, the relaxation, they earned this. This spent their entire lives etching it into stone. They earned their ending. And they'll spend their eternity loving it.

[nymph1e]

What would have happened to the Winchesters if s1e1 had never happened:

Sam would have had a white picket fence, a wife and kid, grew old without his brother, and never worried about hunting again.

Dean would have died young and without a partner or kids due to a hunt gone wrong

What happened to the Winchesters after 15 years of character development:

Sam had a white picket fence, a wife and kid, grew old without his brother, and never worried about hunting again.

Dean died young and without a partner or kids due to a hunt gone wrong

Do you see why fans are pissed?

[lizleeships]

HERE, PLEASE HAVE MY SOUL IN A TEN-PANEL COMIC

There’s a lot I could say about this… it’s the most rushed I have ever made a comic so there’s a lot of it that’s still wonky- crooked panels, rushed storyline, questionable dialogue, wonky references- but like, I fucking NEEDED this, okay, even if it’s only relevant for the next couple of hours before the new episode ruins us again. If anyone needs me, please forward all calls and tips directly to my grave.) 

(Please have a heart and don’t repost. Ultra super duper special thanks always to @malmuses for your help:)

[maraschinosqueeze]

Last night I was talking to @tinkdw and others on twitter about how all signs for the finale point towards it being a love letter to Cas. And by extension, the fans. Because Cas is a fan made character. And destiel is a fan fueled arc.

The title for the episode is “Carry On.” And Cas is the Wayward Son. He is the one thing Chuck could not control. As he said in his confession, Dean changed him. Made him want to be different. So much so that it altered Chuck’s script and allowed them to beat Chuck.

But Cas’s significance as a Wayward Son is not just important in canon. He is also the FANS Wayward Son. We are the ones who demanded more of him. We are the ones who kept this show going. Cas is a fan symbol and the final episode is for the fans.

I’m not a meta writer, but I am so here for Cas, the ultimate Wayward Son. The one Chuck couldn’t control. The one the showrunners couldn’t control.

[tlakhtwritesdestiel]

Dean would never have considered it before. Would never even have allowed his mind to stray in that direction (or at least that’s what he’ll say if anyone asks), but now, exhausted and covered in black goo and so damn relieved Cas is back – human and just as filthy as Dean – he does.

He asks if Cas would mind sharing the shower room.

Cas has a towel slung over his arm and is on his way there already, but he stops and tilts his head when Dean asks. Maybe he simply finds it puzzling, or maybe he’s trying to work out the exact level of filth needed for Dean Winchester to get naked around someone who’s not a woman. All he says, however, with that earnest look in his eyes, is, “Of course.”

“Cool.” Dean nods, once. “You go ahead, I’ll go get a towel.”

When he returns with the towel and enters the shower room, Cas is already standing underneath the spray. He’s facing the wall, water running down his back and over the curve of his ass, clinging to his legs in rivulets that coalesce at his feet and disappear down the drain. It’s the first time Dean has seen him like this, no trench coat or suit or bees covering him up, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice that Cas’s body is a masterpiece, thick and strong like it’s carved out of marble, but… that acknowledgement is secondary to the other thing he’s feeling. The thing he hasn’t put into words yet, except in his mind. 

Dean feels strangely reverent when his stained clothes are finally lying in a heap on the floor and he’s walking up to Cas. Undressed, bared. Stripped of everything but himself.

Cas looks at Dean quizzically when he steps into the shower immediately adjacent to his and turns on the water. Dean flushes hot and it’s wholly unrelated to water temperature, but he lets Cas look. Reaches for the bodywash between them and begins cleaning Empty off his skin. He’s never been more happy to see something disappear down the drain.

It’s only when he’s washed every last black smudge off his skin and Cas has stopped looking that Dean dares look back, sees the spot of black that remains on the side of Cas’s neck. “Hey. You’ve got some more Empty on you.”

Cas looks down himself questioningly, but Dean doesn’t indicate where it is. Instead, he steps out of the spray, closer to Cas.

“Here, let me.” He can’t remember when he last spoke to Cas in a voice this soft, but he thinks maybe he should have all along. His hand reaches up to Cas’s neck, but his eyes are caught by Cas’s gaze, searching, curious. Fingers reach warm skin, and he sways closer while he rubs against the black substance with his thumb.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs into the humid space between them. His hand comes up to cautiously cover Dean’s. “What is this?”

Dean comes closer still, until he and Cas are sharing a shower and their foreheads are mere inches away from touching. “I’m cleaning the last bit of Empty off you.” There’s water running down both their faces, but Dean doesn’t care. “I just… I want it gone.” He can see all too well in his mind the Empty enveloping Cas, taking him away. He’d kill that damn thing a thousand times if he could.

“I don’t know how to read this situation,” Cas admits, and Dean can’t blame him. He hasn’t let him know how he feels yet, and here they are, naked together in a shower, and Cas still thinks – he thinks Dean doesn’t –

“Read it however you like,” Dean says. “Read it as… as that thing you want. The thing you said you couldn’t – I didn’t misunderstand, did I? What you want, it’s –”

“You. It’s always been you,” Cas breathes, as unafraid to speak the truth now as he was in the moments before the Empty took him. Dean’s glad, because it makes it easier to say what he’s about to say next.

“Then you were wrong about one thing.” He finally allows his forehead to rest against Cas’s. “I’m sorry I made you think it wasn’t a possibility, but if you really do want me…” He resists the instinct to ask why the hell Cas would want to be with him. He’s not going to question his worth anymore, or his capacity to love and be loved – not after everything Cas told him. Not when his heart is damn near brimming over with love for the angel-turned-human in front of him. “Cas, you’ve got me. I’m yours.”

Cas’s soft intake of breath is barely audible over the sound of the water, but Dean hears it anyway, and then hands are tugging on skin and they fall into a wet embrace.

As many times as Dean has imagined them naked and flush against each other, this is not how he thought it would go. But this, it’s… better. It’s perfect. “I love you,” he murmurs into the crook of Cas’s neck, and Cas shivers. “I love you,” he whispers once more against Cas’s jaw – and then a final, third time against his lips before Cas claims Dean’s in a kiss.

Dean hardly manages to catch his breath with the water running down their faces, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’ll happily drown in Cas.

Hands trail over skin while they kiss, down, down, until they find hardening flesh. It’s rapturous and blissful and euphoric, and when they finally call out each other’s names, Dean feels well and truly cleansed of the Empty. In fact, he thinks he’ll probably never feel empty again.

***

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[theboythatwaskilled]

Breakfast- beer

Lunch- none

Dinner- more beer

[theboythatwaskilled]

I dont need drugs to get me high

My despair does it way better anyway

[theboythatwaskilled]

Dude I'm just so lost tonight