#deangoddamnedwinchester

[patiturxetxdamnati]

Mari: she also says that most of the people I know hate me

Max: LOL

Max: yes Dani, I actually hate you

Max: I don't know if you knew

Mari: Well shit, apparently there's a club. I think they have matching jackets!

Max: goddammit I didn't get a jacket

Max: 'dani's a fanny'

Max: in pink glitter lettering

Mari: you missed the order?!

Mari: goddamnit maxey

[reinainfierno-blog]

deangoddamnedwinchester replied to your post “¤”

-flails-

- catches u - 

[reinainfierno-blog]

❤

Send me a ❤ and I will write a drabble about our muses' first kiss.

     It all happened very quickly, but Abaddon wouldn’t have had it any other way. It started out as a fight; a vicious and stormy altercation that should have ended with one of their deaths. But as soon as she had her fist gripped tightly around Dean’s neck, she could no longer find it within her to end his life. There was a brief moment where she was just looking into his eyes, and her own flickered from black to dusky blue.

     Silence ensued for a few seconds, with neither of them really throwing any more punches. And then Abaddon kissed him, out of pure frustration—- what else was there to do? She was forceful and greedy in the kiss, but gave him room to kiss her back as well. The demon never knew what she was thinking or feeling about him, but she guessed that this was it. A mix of hatred and a need to be close to him. Strange, yet irresistible.

[killforfries-archived-blog]

           "–––– nope.              excuse me, someone stop the             ride. i want to get off."

[faequeentitania]

How important is having a queue tag...? Should I create one?

[patiturxetxdamnati]

Riddler - the hardest question they’ve ever had to answer

Super Questions!

Sam sat, giving the question at hand serious thought. Honestly, could you think through all the questions you'd been asked in your lifetime? Between school, learning to hunt, all the questions Jess had asked about their future, Amelia, Dean. There were just so many things that had been asked of the younger Winchester, and just as many questions left unanswered.                                                  --Until one came to mind."Do you remember when we were enrolled in that one high school and I had to write a story?" Sam asked his big brother, looking down at the table in front of him. "I ended up writing about our lives, about hunting and living out of the Impala, and Dad. The teacher thought I was a literary genius for 'making it all up'. But right before we left, he asked me something. He asked if I really wanted to go into the Family Business or if I wanted my own path. I'd never felt more afraid of a question in my entire life."

[deathisarose]

"You'll be better off on your own."

   One would think with as much pain as Lydia had been dealt that she'd learn how to mask it, how it was she could cover it up when vulnerability would only mean weakness. As much as he'd thought she'd been the one there for him, it'd quickly and quite surely turned the other way around. It didn't startle her to hear him muffle off something so lowly of himself, she'd learned it was practically second nature for him, always eliciting a deepened frown along pink lips, sad hues cast in his direction. He didn't want to be alone, she could feel it all over him, see it in the way he'd set his gaze on her when she was particularly focused on patching him up. He was too modest a man to ever realize what it was he could give someone, to believe that he, too, cam with a warmth.

   It wasn't the being on her own that knotted her chest, but the way he said the words like a promise, a decision that'd already been made – you'll be better off on your own – you will. The hurt digested across her features before she was clearing her throat, a foreign sense of anger crawling through her. What the hell was so wrong with letting another take care of you? Of wanting to be taken care of? Needing it? 

     ❝If that's your way of saying goodbye, then I don't     want it. Not like that. That's a cowardly way to go out,     Dean, and you know it.❞

[deathisarose]

❋

our muses are drunk and making bad decisions, leave a ❋ in my askbox for our muses to share a stupid, drunken kiss

     so sue her for the fact that whiskey had seemed a proper way to dissolve her sorrows for the night; it hardly made itself a habit, not when it still burned on it’s way down, when she was nowhere near familiar with the taste even after they’d both thrown back countless glasses. by now their actions had become reckless, uncoordinated to the point where she should really just plop face down on her bed and turn in ‘til the pounding woke her up in the morning, but alas he was clinking that bottle of whiskey against her rim again, chuckling as he sloppily tried to pour another inch of the amber liquid. 

     ❝dean!❞

     she bit back a snicker, chewing at her lips and trying to tug the glass back before he poured enough to nearly knock her comatose. alright, alright, rookie he’d spit back at her, downing his own remnants with a satisfied hiss. he just grinned at her, that foolish crook to the edge of his lips that she now took a moment to study, their supple bow covered in a glimmering layer of whiskey. she’d never kissed him, in fact nothing about the nights he’d come to her had turned sexual at all, but something about that whiskey and the thought of how it might taste on him left a burning in her belly. 

     he might’ve been drunk enough to keep from realizing that her expression had fallen from amused to a silent thoughtfulness, and whether it be her lack of inhibition from the alcohol or a strange burst of will, she leaned forward while lifting petite fingers at his jaw to plant her mouth on his, unworried of what slurred comments she was interrupting. her lips lapped softly, slowly with his own.