Imagine Dean blatantly trying to avoid the fact that Sam knows he likes you...

“Would it kill you to just tell her?” Sam said as soon as he got in the car.

Sam knew Dean had liked you for a long time. In the past week he had begun to get sulky because you had left for a hunt a few states over and Sam was a little bored of getting the brunt of it.

“Hm, what was that, Sammy?” Dean said as he reached for the impala’s music controls. Within seconds a track by the darkness was beginning to play out over the speakers.

“You can’t keep avoiding it, you’re practically pining-” Sam was cut off as Dean blasted up the music and drowned him out.

“I can’t hear you!” Dean mouthed before sticking the key in the ignition and getting ready to move off.

“Y/N likes you too, idiot.” Sam muttered entirely inaudibly as the car began to move and he began to lose his hearing.


Do you know what love is? I’ll tell you: it is whatever you can still betray.
― John le Carré

One hour studies.


You know, you act like such a lonely man- but look at you!

You’ve got the biggest family on Earth.

Archetypes | WOMAN KING

And she speaks in a voice that sets men trembling, with eyes painted gold and a throne built on the bones of those who would challenge her rule. Cults of ascetics dance ecstasies in her honour and write her words in blood across their altars. Her body is a holy temple and her power springs from the divine source of her own terrible will. She is not of mortal flesh, they will whisper, as she wheels on her stallion and screams warchants to the heavens, emerging from battle wreathed in the blood and soil of a new kingdom. She rules with iron fists, with the cracking of cathedrals, with the love and the fear of her vast wild armies. She harbours a sword within her unquiet roaring heart, and with it has carved herself a new space, outside of law or nature or humankind. She is the mother of an empire; she is the mother of herself. Watch her rise.


“I would name them all for those the gods have taken. The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident. The cream-and-gold I callViserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not." "And the black beast?” asked Ser Jorah Mormont. “The black,” she said, “is Drogon.”

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» When the Shoe Fits: 1947 - 2015 
[click on the pictures to view the captions]

“In the evening when she had worked till she was weary she had no bed to go to, but had to sleep by the fireside in the ashes. And as on that account she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella…”