For the fucking life of me, if I could find one god damn person that would be honest with me beyond their name, I would be sure I’d died and gone to heaven. Every single person I ever encounter seems to think I’m a complete idiot and won’t figure it out. Lets get real, I wasn’t born with my misanthrope. It was crafted over 20-odd years of dealing with bullshit and I’ll be damned if my bs sensor isn’t strong.
Moral of the story: A hard truth is always easier than a group of soft lies.
when people who can’t sing never stop singing
Fuck that. SING LIKE YOU ARE PERFORMING FOR A MILLION. Confidence is everything and if ya don’t like it, invest in ear plugs.
I’m thinking about putting a picture of my face on tumblr every day for a while
To get over my slight fear of sharing my face…
(For those who don’t understand—this is going around as a response to a destiel shipper’s petition to not watch the first two episodes, because they’re upset about J2 basically saying Destiel is not a thing)
I love my ships, I believe Destiel IS canon, BUT I…
Also actors are not their characters. If you are not going to watch the first two episodes because of what the actors have said about your ship, then what’s the whole point of the show. The plot of the show is not about a ship. Enjoy the show, and all of its wonderful plots and stories. Don’t lose this amazing show over a ship.
I will never ship Destiel, or Wincest for that matter. I love this show because of the connection I can feel to each character while I watch. I love this show for the dedication and pure raw emotion that the actors put into the characters they have created. I love this show for being different and not being a “struggling love/sex” show. I love that there really is less sex in this show than most other shows on tv and that is ok. I love that this show is purely the love of a family, family doesn’t always mean blood, and the struggle to do what is right even when the lines between right and wrong aren’t black and white. For this reason, I will watch every episode and support the show that I love and the actors who made it that way.
Reblog this and show your support of the show that you love!
Seriously? I have a feeling that me and the internet don’t get along a majority of the time…
the red fucking wedding.
You’re welcome, Tumblr. You’re welcome, Supernatural Fandom. You’re welcome, WORLD!
Approximately a month ago, all my dreams came true. For the entire week before, my anxiety level almost made me want to say “Fuck it.” and not go. But I forced myself to drive the three hours to and from, waited for my room, and every time I entered to seating, I swiftly walked to the very front to my seat. And I loved every second of it.
So I finally finished season nine due to finals and limited internet access the past two weeks…
And now I am emotionally unstable and hate eVERYTHING.
I would like to share this beautiful passage with all of you, it’s long, but worth it. And I swear to god I didn’t alter any of this.
Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which is seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room.
Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.
Who told this lady she could write?
Why did she ever stop?
IT GETS WORSE THE FURTHER IN THE PASSAGE YOU GO OMG
i fukcing lost it at meat wand
How could I NOT share this
SOMEONE NEEDS TO ANIMATE THIS
I WOULD SELL MY SOUL FOR SOMEONE TO ANIMATE THIS SCENE
ENTERED HER LIKE SHE WAS A LOTTERY!
What the FUCK does that even mean? Like, did he shout numbers at her while he fucked her, what the hell?
LIKE A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER THAT WAS OPENING AND SOMEBODY WAS PUSHING THEIR DICK INSIDE IT
WHAT? HOW? I MEAN, MY FAN FIC ISN’T THAT GREAT, BUT…