This is my favorite video edit ever, It’s art. I don’t know who made it, I think a girl from Brazil but I’m not sure (shoutout to all the latinamerican fans, myself included). I think everyone should see this ❤
Yes. this is beauty.
somebody put a lot of work in to this thing and it’s a thing of art
OH MY FUCKING GOD
So much art and beautifulness that I may happily die from it.
I just got to see Jack in the show. I’m a little behind in watching it…
He’s one of those characters that I heard SO much about, that I was sick of him before I ever saw him. I genuinely went through the same struggle of acceptance that Dean did. I’m so glad that I decided to throw my assumptions aside and meet the new baby with fresh eyes! ❤
Jack is such a good character. They could have made him extremely cliche and Mary Sue-ish, but they presented him in a way that made it hard not to like him. He’s dealing with self-worth as much as Sam, Cas and Dean. It was hard to see him go through it. It’s something I struggle with too, Jack.
His duckling-like following of Sam just made him even more lovable. ❤ Sis and I have been calling him Duckie.
Awwww, this is so cute! And YES – Jack is a duckling, and you cannot tell me otherwise. Fluffy yellow duckie. ♥
look at it look at that weird birb it doesn’t know how to raven
other ravens: caw caw
australian ravens: aUGH AUUuuuGH AAAAUUUUUUughhhhhHHHhhhhhhh
it genuinely didn’t occur to me that this was weird that i’d never heard a crow or raven caw in my life and frnakly the australian raven noise is the most common noise to me and it means “it’s the morning now”. i can’t imagine life without it. its background noise i didn’t even think to identify as coming from somewhere. it’s just There.
quoth the raven, “aUGH AUUuuuGH AAAAUUUUUUughhhhhHHHhhhhhhh”
it sounds like a depressed kazoo.
Wait a minute… how do non-Australian ravens sound? Do they not sound like this?
(Image description: a piece of paper taped to a beige wall with words in black font; the words say “It’s okay to use microlabels to better understand and describe your gender and sexuality. There is nothing wrong with wanting language to talk about your identity.”)
I can think of nine different shades of blue off the top of my head we have different names for and there are many, many more. We give micro labels to everything, from colors to wood to cars because micro labels are useful and conducive to understanding. And yet applying them to gender and sexuality is supposedly a step too far. I call BS.
John had suddenly left on a hunt. After lots of swearing and hurriedly packing his bags and shouting orders at Dean he was out the door. He hadn’t even realized that Dean had ditched school for the day, was too wrapped up in whatever had caught his attention now. In fact, he was too wrapped up in it all to remember to give Dean some money. So Sammy was at school, and Dean was left all alone to sit there and question how he was going to feed his little brother.
He could get a job, he supposed. Who cared about his grades? He wasn’t doing well, anyway. He never did. There was one teacher at the school who saw how smart Dean really was, who had pulled him aside after class and told him that his grades weren’t a true reflection of his intelligence and that he had so much going on in his head. She had even offered to help tutor him after school, but knowing they’d be probably moving soon anyway, Dean had declined. Besides, after school was when he had to watch Sam and do his training. And Dean kept telling himself he didn’t really care anyway. Knowing his lifestyle he was bound to drop out soon, become a hunter like his dad. So it didn’t matter. He could get a job and just focus on that.
But Dean had to pull himself together first. It was never good when Dad left. It made him feel empty and alone and lost. Yet, there was this tension he felt all around him, like it was left over from his dad’s presence. And there wasn’t just that, there was telling Sammy. His little brother was always disappointed, but as he’d been getting older he was no longer surprised. He’d just heave a sigh, sometimes sniffle and turn his head to the side to hide the tears in his eyes, and then he’d throw his bag down by the table, take a seat, and start doing his homework. Dean was glad he did his homework since Sammy really did have what it took to get through school; he had always been smarter than him, but he figured Sam buried himself in it to keep himself distracted, to not deal with the fact that John left all the time. Dean didn’t see a problem with him doing that though – whatever got Sam through the day.
He went over to the bathroom and washed his face in the sink, hoping maybe the cold water would get rid of that awful emptiness he felt, the emptiness that was quickly being filled with the ugly weight of responsibility and worry. It helped somewhat, and then he grabbed his keys to the motel room, stuffed a pistol in the back of the waistband of his jeans like his dad had taught him to, in case something attacked him, and he left. Dean had never tried to get a job before, so he didn’t know what it entailed, but he was willing to what had to be done.
Luckily, when he got to the gas station a few blocks away he saw a paper sign taped to the window that said Now Hiring, ask for manager at front desk. A bell over the door dinged when he walked into the small, but well-kept store. The floor was white, the walls a drab steel grey that might have once been blue before it faded, and there were a few shelves holding the usual: snacks high in sugar and carbs, water bottles, milk, eggs, tubs of ice cream, some toiletries, and in the back behind the front desk there were a few packs of Marlboros. A man who looked to be in his 20s and was terribly thin with well-kept hair and oily skin stood behind the counter. His nametag read Jeff. Dean nodded at him and walked over.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 