#he is so melodramatic

[megablade]

dream, half sobbing: i don’t care, just give me my punishment

[lazarus-lazuli]

Pellinore Warthrop is the orginial drama queen

[death-threats]

Chicken Soup for the Hunter's Soul || Open

   It was a crisp autumn day perfect for a quiet afternoon nap and a glass of cold apple cider. It was one of those almost-October days that announced that it was no longer summer and the weather was the perfect combination of cold and warm that brought upon sickness to anyone who's immune system decided to take a day off. Dean was one of those unfortunate souls who got in the way of the common cold and he felt entirely miserable.    

   The hunter had fought things that were brought to Earth from Heaven, Hell and the cracks in between, but when he got sick he felt utterly defenseless. It was almost pathetic, really -- such a tough guy that could barely combat something such as a measly cold. He laid on the couch and sniffled, groaning quietly as he shifted a little bit. "This is it. This is how I'm gonna die," he muttered quietly to himself as he flipped through the channels looking for something mildly entertaining to watch.