A punk stops during a gay pride parade to allow a mesmerized child to touch his jacket spikes.
I lost control about reblogging this picture.
and this is the perfect “fuck you” to people who stereotype people like this.
You guys. I think I was there for this. I think I saw this picture taken. This is really exciting.
this is the cutest thing ever, omg uwu
Oh so adorable, look at the smile on his face.
“Could you, uh… could you find someone?”
Dean barely sounds like himself. His voice is a low rasp over the phone. He didn’t introduce himself in any way, didn’t say hello, didn’t call her “your highness.” But Charlie knows it’s him all the same. She can picture him standing in the bunker, holding the phone to his ear, rubbing his other hand across his forehead.
She hadn’t been waiting for the call, but it’s not exactly a surprise to hear from Dean. She saw that “meteor shower,” the one NOAA hadn’t predicted, same as anybody else. She’d looked into it but hadn’t found much—a spike in the birth rate, but that seemed more coincidental than anything else. Then again, when is anything ever a coincidence?
She senses that now is not the time to joke with Dean, so all she says is, “Yeah, probably.”
“He might be—he might be going by Jimmy Novak. Or Emmanuel. He—,”
“Cas? You want me to find Cas?”
Dean is quiet for a moment. Maybe he forgot that she read all Carver Edlund’s books, even the unpublished ones. Charlie hears him swallow before he speaks again. “Yeah.”
“No. Not really.”
Clearly no more explanation is forthcoming. Back to business. “You got any pictures of him?”
Dean doesn’t say anything, but a moment later her phone buzzes. It’s a scan of a small photo, a face shot, probably left over from one of the Winchesters’ many fraudulent collage projects. The man in it is dark-haired, blue-eyed, tired. He doesn’t look like an angel. One of the photo’s corners is very slightly creased, as if it had been folded and then flattened out again, restored. Charlie wonders if Dean had kept this photo aside, tucked into his wallet, a secret icon.
“Good,” she says. “This will help.”
Dean is quiet again.
“Do you… need something else?” Like someone to talk to?
“Just find him,” he says, and hangs up.
the best fucking vine video ever
I’ve watched this 12 times and its so funny the little lady
I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today
what happened to personal space, Dean?
Do you realize how far Sam has come though ?
He went from the boy with demon blood to the boy whose blood is so pure it can cure demons
I mean shine bright like a sam winchester ok