xoxo @apocalypsebcy-blog - Tumblr Blog

SON, son do not let your blood be your word. for the earth, she hungers for it. &. tell me, how many years has she already torn from the empty niche in your chest ? of all the years scattered among the bones, unused and forfeit, how many can you lay claim to ? oh my sweet silly boy, haven’t you already learned to bleed with a closed first ? &. so, be wary ! they’ll drain you ‘till your heartwells run dry &. yet still some more. so do not give them your heart like graveyard real-estate. 【 you already have enough to bury. 】

#my babe #promos;

blccms-deactivated20170121

“there are two things in life for which we are never truly prepared—-

t w i n s.”

#promos;

blazeternal-blog

ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏᴅ sᴀɪᴅ, “ᴜsʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴛᴇs.”

#self promo;#i did a thing ok #follow if you want okie dokie ok

does anyone know someone that does backgrounds?

#i used to be good at it now i suck #out of whiskey;

itendsbad

— 11.21

#brother;

sasquatchandleatherjacket

Dean giving zero fucks about god | 11x21

#mirror;#brother;#spn spoilers

joannahunts:

Jo smirked slowly, picking up a long and wicked looking blade. “Well, it’s you and Dean who put me here, isn’t it?” she said simply, without any hint of malice. She had hated them for that once. Not at first, mind you. Not right when she died. But after her soul was pulled into Hell. After the torture started. She could only hold up for so long before hate filled her soul, before she was left broken on the rack.

But she was strong now, stronger than she’d ever been. She moved back to the man tied to the rack, running the sharp blade along his arm, splitting flesh and enjoying his tortured screams. “You came all the way down here just to see little ol’ me?” she asked, turning her eyes back to Sam, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Why wouldn’t I come see you, Jo?” Sam was half aghast. He laughed. It jutted out into the air like the knife Jo handled. He began to circle her and her prey, stepping easily, one foot at a time. “It feels like it’s been millenia since I last saw you. Which, you know, down here, it’s entirely possible.”

He cleared his throat, picking up a smooth instrument, a knife with three twisted edges. It looked like a drill. It came to a sharp point; shined in the light before Sam’s eyes.He turned mercilessly to the stiff on the rack. “May I?” He said, a smile painting his lips. Sam licked them, feeling the edges of the blade with his finger tips.

#joannahunts #m; sam #p #v; main

lukecrain-archive-deactivated20

But now It’s the end x

#baby in a trenchcoat;#this arc almost killed me

a-crimsonmalice

THEME GIVEAWAY!

PRIZES – two people will receive customized themes for the blog of their choice! EXAMPLES – ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ RULES –

likes count and one reblog per person ( no reblogging to multiple accounts! )

you must be a roleplay blog & please reblog onto the blog you want the theme for!

can follow for the giveaway, but don’t unfollow right after. that’s rude.

ends on 5/10 at 8:30pm CST ( check the time! )

#giveaway;

clairvoyantsam

▒ Dean smiling at Sam and falling in his arms 9.23 / 10.14 ▒

#mirror;#brother;

Alexandria | Dee & Dean

@dclilah

ALEXANDRIA. Dean hadn't been there long. A few DAYS AGO, he arrived here a mess. Dirty clothes. Covered in mud and gore. He was ADEPT at surviving, miraculously. He supposed a life of crime would do that to a person. At the moment, he was putting up shades in his room. TO BLOCK OUT THE LIGHT. The shades were black and did the trick – his room darkened as soon as he put them up. All he had plans to do in the early days of his arrival, which was NOW, was to sleep. To feel safe sleeping. Then, in the evening, he wanted to drink some coffee and head out to look for some whiskey. The thing Dean Winchester wanted most in this hell was this: WHISKEY.

That's when he heard it. A noise. Water being put into something. “Christ on a cracker,” he muttered, turning in his room to the door. He opened it and followed the floor down to the stairs. One step at a time. He had a knife ready. There was no telling who was in his house – he wasn't too afraid it was a WALKER obviously, but he hadn't heard anyone in a while. Maybe a day since he'd been there. WAITING. He waited at the door way with his knife, and heard the noises of another knife making contact with SKIN. His brows fused – was somebody cleaning a human being in his house? Dean turned the corner and found a woman. A little above average height. Brown hair. Her knife made incisions at the back end of a squirrel. “Uh,” Dean began, not knowing exactly where to begin. “What do ya think you're doin' in my house?”