im like 500% sure that those yahoo people are going to get on tumblr and read posts about people shipping clothes and obama fanfiction and bad puns and get convinced that we are meth addicts and are gonna call the police
how the hell do you ship clothes
You put them in a box, put someone’s address on the box, and take the box to the post office
Five years ago, I wouldn’t have thought such a thing about this painting, but fandom has ruined me… this looks like Dean trekking through a crypt of dead angels.
What no one ever tells you about Hell is the unimaginable scale of the place.
Sometimes, it takes days for Dean’s screams to echo back to him from whatever serves as a ceiling here, to bounce from the walls that must exist somewhere out of sight. When he takes up the scalpel and performs his first cut, the blood that drips down from the edge of the razor falls below; down, down to depths unknowable. He listens intently to see when it hits.
It takes almost five years to hear the first plop of coagulated blood on the bones below.
When Castiel rescues him, he finds that Hell is simply made to fit the original inhabitants. He trails his fingers - what his soul imagines as fingers, since the soul conjures itself here - along the passage as they flee the gibbering hordes behind them. For all that Hell is fresh on their heels, the Angel leading him seems unconcerned, their pace sedate and stately.
Hell is built on the backs of the Fallen, Castiel whispers into his mind, cementing the knowledge in Dean’s dreams for the rest of his unnatural life. Both a monument and a tomb for my brothers and sisters; Hell is as large as the number of our dead.
He doesn’t want to ask, but he does: How many?
Too many, the Angel says, and then Dean wakes and gasps for breath from six feet under.
#Prayers #Repost from @gcode2222 “If you see her please call the number 404-503-5848 or hit @robinhoodmills” via @InstaReposts
SIGNAL BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!!!! Help Bring her home!
Boost. This is my home.
if you look like this, message me please.