My Eyes Are Bleeding Why

Reblogging just coz

bi culture is just me saying random things i do and labeling it bi culture and everyone reblogging like yes so true

I agree. I also read this post about we seeing everything from Will's perspective is why we tend to hate her, and I kinda agree.

Hi if you’re a Hannibal fan and you don’t hate Alana Bloom please interact with this post

I’ve been running into too much Hannibal content that just paints her as a misogynistic caricature

Please I am so starved of good Marlana content :(((

Put yours in the tags.

Can confirm

people with hozier, mitski, lorde, phoebe bridgers and taylor swift in their top artists:

This whole thread can be used as scale for idiocy.

What does the arab in your carrd mean? Is it like afab and amab?

.. i’m palestinian

I decided to surf through thr bi culture tag today and boy am I feeling called out ?????

microdosing on validation from English teachers (gay)

Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting

Yasssssss

welcome to the SuperLokiOmens era. delighted to live through these times together with y’all

One word. Wow

5 times Dean had work to do, and the one time he actually enjoyed it.  pairing: dean/cas a commission for @jensenackhles <3 2k words

One 

Dean first heard the phrase a few weeks after his mom died.

John had checked them into a motel—one of the many that they had cycled through in the past few weeks. Sam was asleep in the crib, and John was on the opposite bed. Dean had woken up to a strange sound; he rolled over and saw John at the foot of the bed, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Dean had never seen his dad cry before. Even right after the fire, when he was telling the detectives what happened at the police station: completely dry-eyed. So seeing his dad cry was… strange. Dean wanted to make it stop. 

He pushed back the sheets and hopped off the bed. Walking on unsteady, sleepy toddler legs to his dad, he put either hand on John’s knees, looking up at him. John was clutching a worn picture of Mary between his fingers.

“Are you okay, dad?” Dean asked.

John continued to stare at the picture of Mary’s smiling face. After a moment, he sniffed. Wiped his face that was striped with tears with the back of his hand. He ruffled Dean’s hair and said gruffly, “Yeah, kid. I’m fine. Get back to sleep, okay? We got work to do in the morning.”

And the next morning in the car, when Sam was crying in his carseat and kicking up a storm, Dean patted his head and said, “It’s okay, Sammy, shh. Stop crying. We got work to do, okay? So you can’t cry. We got to work.” 

Sam just stared at him with big teary and trusting eyes. Dean didn’t even know what he was really saying at the time; what he was getting them into.

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I found this on my dash again and this time I'm reblogging

sorry everyone