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This is beyond the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen but that art is really really nice.

Imagine them speaking with the same voices though.


Why are Patrick and Plankton the most attractive.
Someone help.

(Source: clarkchan1211, via rinrinswife)




'Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. 
Loneliest creatures in the Universe.' -The Doctor


In the cemetery in a small town in the middle of Kansas, there’s a gravestone with a peculiarity to it. The statue of an angel lies there, slumped over, weeping.

The townspeople like to tell stories about the angel. They say the angel’s lover was buried there, and the angel was so heartbroken that he turned to stone, lacking the motivation to move ever again without his lover to move with him.

People go missing there, sometimes, in the graveyard. Parents warn their children never to go alone, to be careful, because people go in to mourn their loved ones and they don’t come back.

-January 24, 1979-

Emma Grey views the hospital around her and blinks. She’s sprawled on the ground, confused. Emma wipes the tears off her face and stands up. She’d been walking to her recently passed father’s grave to talk to him and give him her weekly flowers but now – where was she?
“Shhh, let’s get you to the nursery. You’ll be fine, sweetie. We just need to get you checked out and then you can go back to Mommy.” A nurse hurries past Emma, pushing a cart with a crying child down the hall.

–November 3rd,1983–

Michael blinks, confused. He’d been walking with Mommy, to visit where Anna was sleeping in the ground, but Mommy got mad after he asked when his sister would be back and Mommy scared him when she was sad-angry like that, so he ran off. But now there was a big orange and yellow fire eating up the house in front of him. Michael turns around and around, trying to find the familiarity of the stone rows and fresh flowers, but all he sees is the house and the firefighters in their big suits and look, there was another boy! He was running out of the house carrying a bundle of blankets and Michael tries to call out to him but the boy doesn’t turn around.

–July 14th, 2002–

One moment, he was standing in front of his mother’s grave, and the next, Thomas Fox was pacing the pavement in front of a shitty motel. He blinked, dazed, taking in his surroundings as two young men argue several yards away. One of them is carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder and he’s yelling.

“Dean, this is my choice. I told you I want a normal life and Stanford–”

“Shut up, Sammy.” The shorter one - Dean - seems to hesitate and then he embraces the other man. Thomas isn’t sure but he thinks they both might be shaking.

–September 18th, 2008–

Her palms have suddenly been sliced by broken glass and Ingrid blinks rapidly, trying to wash away tears of pain and grief. She’s in some kind of supply store, an abandoned one judging by the glass everywhere, and fuck she cannot deal with this right now. All she wanted was to call Leah and tell her about the most recent insane development in her life but Leah was just a hole in the ground now and - Ingrid lets out another sob and pulls herself up, avoiding the shattered glass while she walks to the door.

–May 4th, 2056–

The cemetery is old and crumbling now. The woman, bones brittle with age, hobbles to the middle of the graveyard and raises a bony hand to what once was the statue of an angel. It’s almost as if the feathers on it’s wings have fallen out. Castiel, she whispers. It took years of research and conversations with shady people in shadier alleys, but she’d figured it out eventually.

This statue is utterly broken. What must once have been powerful and indestructible is turned to stone, to dust. She crouches, paining her old knees, and brushes the dirt from the grave. It wasn’t unmarked after all; the shadows of Castiel’s stone trenchcoat merely hid it.

Castiel, she breathes again. Castiel, he was saved the moment his soul and your grace embraced. Do not mourn, for heaven has granted him all the paradise it could. Rejoice, for he only waits for you to join him and complete it.

Emma Grey walks away and does not look back, knowing only stone feathers remain.

         D. W.

–the righteous man–

He is nothingness now, void and broken, damaged and screaming an
eternal torment, listening to loved ones come and go, a broken grace 
seeps and turns, thoughts of the life ceased beneath his fingers and 
they are gone. It had been upon the eldest Winchester’s death that he 
shattered, a mere dead weight to Sam, Castiel had found himself
returning to this place of solitude more and more.

And here now, whispered words— nothing more irrelevant to him than
the broken structures of his mind, damaged and burning within flame,
he had choked on its heat a long time ago. Drowning in a sea of salted
tears, he knew his fate as feathers grew hard, his form molding upon
painful loss he could not let go. Nothing more than a broken promise—
                                                 I’ll find a way to keep going;
                                                          I’ll keep your brother safe. 

Sam was gone now too, reduced to ash, and upon this grave Castiel’s
broken form lay, but he was not gone, listening to those words. Paradise
and Dean, a one and the same ideal.

Stone cracked, a slow shine of grace igniting within the sloping statue.
Veins of light split hardened form, junks of stone falling away to nothing but
powdered ash and he stood, hand lifting slow to brush grey debris from
dark locks, blue gaze settling upon frail form walking away.

He had an eternity to thank Emma Grey, watching her go. For Castiel would
mourn Dean forever; nothing could replace the Winchester, but… But he was
not alone, and where one promise failed, he had another to keep.

People talk about the day an angel disappeared from the broken down ruins
of a dying cemetery. They talk about how he had been slumped over the grave
marked about some righteous man for years, a carved stone of despair, and
how he vanished late one night, the grave he rested upon unmarked. Some
people blamed it upon children, saying they had no respect for the dead. Some
refused to talk about it entirely, but from time to time, you’d see him out of the
corner of your eye, that trenchcoated individual, fingers resting upon stone
marker, sorrow clouding azure eyes as he stood among deteriorating stone

                     A blink, and he was gone.

(Source: midget-banana, via h3yd4v3)


at the pet store like


(via h3yd4v3)





If anyone calls you out for wearing black or layered clothing during the summer look them straight in the eye and tell them its preparation for the flames of hell


That is the best gif you could’ve used omg

(via wayward-orphans)


Nine trying to send a distress signal to any potential other survivor of the Time War. That’s not a good idea.

Inspired (a couple of months ago) by this picture made by this user on DA.

(via caitybug2420)















(muffled crying in the distance) 

This is fucking glorious

(via oursecretbits)

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