ohhowiloveunicorns:

two-winchesters-and-castiel:

mishasminions:

larrysnbhd:

chiltonomics:

federyk-is-a-rising-demon:

thefaultinourdaleks:

federyk-is-a-rising-demon:

sheeptopus:

sad-wayward-fallen-angel:

mishasminions:

IT’S NOT NATURAL

you could say it’s un-natural

YOU HAD ONE JOB

it’s paranormal 

Definitely not-natural

almost-natural

Pseudo-Natural

someone just say it pls

OKAY IT’S SUPER…CALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS

oh for the love of god

Not quite natural

(via zendre)

supernatural

October 16, 2014 - Murder.

Last night I had two dreams. Both involved murder. 

It’s kind of weird because even though people were being stabbed, I never saw blood. 

Also both dreams have a lot of camera angles, but it’s all mainly third person, hardly ever in my perspective.

My first dream was in my last home in Puerto Rico. My Mother was going to go on vacation, and even though I wasn’t my current age, I was old enough to watch over my brother and stay at home. Another sign of my younger age was that my brother wasn’t the man he is today (in the sense that he wasn’t as tough and aggressive as he is now). I’m going to assume I was around 21. But that’s not important I guess.

It was a cloudy day, darker than a cloudy day. The colors in the sky were dark blue, teal and black. I was arriving to my house and there was an old, red pick-up truck driving by my house and a man staring at me as he drove by. He gave me a very strange feeling, like if this man was already used to staring, like he had spent his time staring at me while I was unaware, yet today for some reason he wanted his presence to be known. For what reason, I don’t know, but his eyes were dark, yet icy. Just with his stare alone I felt in danger. I hurried to my house, but as I closed the gate to my house, he parked his car in the middle of the street. His time had come to make a move. 

The little gate made a loud noise (as it normally did) and I knew he was right behind me, following me. I picked up the pace until I went into a full on run, running up the stairs to enter my house. I remember shouting to my brother to help me. My house has two doors (one close to the other), and both of them were open, both of them hard to close if they were open all the way, which they were. The door closest to the stairs, I quickly entered through it and started closing the door, the man from the pick up truck now trying to force his way in. Luckily, my brother made it just in time to help me close it… But the other door was still wide open. So we all run to that door, each character in their respective side, pushing and pulling. This door was harder to close, and somehow the stranger wormed his way in. My first reaction is to run into the kitchen, to get something, anything to defend myself and my brother. My brother, however, decided to fight the man. They both pushed and shoved each other until the man took out a large knife and stabbed my brother in the back. He stabbed him multiple times and I just stood there, frozen. Once he was done, he pushed my brother to the side and started making his way towards me. It felt horrifying, but I was angry at the same time with this found adrenaline. I took the biggest knife I could find and jammed it into his chest, over and over. It felt like he didn’t even put up a fight. Even though he managed to stab me as well, I didn’t even feel it. All I wanted to do was kill him. Once that was over, I woke up. 

I woke up next to my boyfriend fast asleep. He’s really peaceful when he sleeps. He doesn’t pout in his sleep like I do… He just seems so relaxed, sometimes it helps me fall asleep knowing that at least one of us managed to find peace in his sleep. Although… sometimes he complains in his sleep, or twitches, or throws a light, half-asleep punch, kick, or elbow. I fear he might actually hurt me someday. On the other hand, there’s also his sweet half-asleep side, where he’ll grab me by the waist and pull me close, burying his head on my neck, or he’ll complain that I’m too far away, and that’s when I’ll snuggle up to him. 

So that helped me fall asleep again. My next dream was bizarre. I was somewhere cold, with a lot of snow, colors white and blue… But I felt warm and I was wearing normal attire (white and blue). I could hardly see anything in front of me because of the snowstorm. I think I was leading an army, or walked into a battle. There were these men fighting one man who was huge. Not Titan huge, but just so tall and strong. He was also very muscular, and very angry. He threw those men around as if they were nothing. For some reason I knew he was a god, although an unknown god. He also had the power to freeze people. If he didn’t toss the men with his bare hands, he would shoot at them with ice that would either stab them, or freeze them. He preferred freezing them. 

I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to talk. I just didn’t want to be there. Before I could leave, though, he spotted me. He shot ice at me, and after a while of dodging he was finally able to. He walked up to me, and now the camera was focusing on my back. He punched my back, but instead of my body shattering, or falling forward, he hit it just enough to break through my flesh, exposing my heart. It was still warm. I couldn’t do anything, and he poked it with his giant index finger, causing a familiar yet excruciating pain through my body. My heart felt tender. He then took a knife made of ice and stabbed at hard as he could, bursting my heart.

That’s when I woke up. It took me a whole lot longer to fall asleep that time, but when I finally did, I had to wake up.  

nina talks dreams

snowbouquet asked:

What's your opinion on there being "fake" and "real" fans/nerds?

Dream a little dream... Answer:

neil-gaiman:

Until I meet any obviously fake human beings — and I think they’d have to be held together with glue, or have the eyes painted on, or really be dolls or slugs or something — I think all people, not to mention fans, nerds, geeks and suchlike are real.

Some people haven’t read/seen/done as much as others. Some people haven’t been around as long. Some people wear T-shirts without knowing everything about what the T-shirt represents. But they are still real, and (and this is the important bit) everybody starts somewhere

People at my signings sometimes tell me, apologetically, that they aren’t real fans, they’ve only read one book or a single comic, not like the people who know every obscure reference I make and win quizzes on my life and times that I would probably fail. And I tell them I’m glad they read the book. And I am.

neil gaiman winning