#lambskinnedvixen

[xcathartic]

ROLEPLAYER APPRECIATION TIME: IT'S TIME TO TELL SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE BLOGS THAT YOU ACKNOWLEDGE, AND APPRECIATE THEIR WORK; LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU LOVE THEM. SPREAD THE LOVE TO 10 OF YOUR FAVORITE BLOGS, AND IF YOU DON'T HAVE 10, THEN JUST SPREAD IT TO THE NEXT 10 ON YOUR DASH ♥

ooc; so lucky, too lucky. you're my favorite Amara :o)

[askelenamgilbert]

"Is that my shirt?"

                   ❝No, it’s actually mine…but the fact that you thought it might be yours makes me really want to go change out of it. ❞

[iuvenespetrova]

I only owe lambskinnedvixen and silkensouledpierce. If I owe you, it's because I lost your thread so, like this or send me the link.

[pp-archived]

ROLEPLAYER APPRECIATION TIME: IT'S TIME TO TELL SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE BLOGS THAT YOU ACKNOWLEDGE, AND APPRECIATE THEIR WORK; LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU LOVE THEM. SPREAD THE LOVE TO 10 OF YOUR FAVORITE BLOGS, AND IF YOU DON'T HAVE 10, THEN JUST SPREAD IT TO THE NEXT 10 ON YOUR DASH ♥

I like you. I'm gonna keep you. <3

[bourbonandheels]

"You’re really good at this…"

“I’m really good at everything, sweetie.”

[xcathartic]

✺

Drop a ✺ in my askbox and my character will kiss you in a sudden fit of passion

The next few seconds that followed seemed to expand in Elena's mind, filling up her senses, until she could hear nothing but a roaring and a pounding which she later realized had come from her own blood and her own ears. The scent of the girl next to her was no longer an ephemeral thing to be caught at passing moments, but had turned into the very air around her. It wasall she was aware of, and the reason was that Amara was leaning over her, closely, so close for a moment Elena felt the soft silky brush of her dress across her chin. Except, it was not the dress that brushed her forehead, but Amara's lips. Elena was no longer breathing and she waited with utter stillness as the lips move slowly down, barely touching her cheeks before they were finally upon her mouth.

Elena felt the searing sun on her closed eyelids, and the feather touch of lips on hers. She jerked her head back an crashed her lips against Amara's, cupping either side of her face and deepened the kiss with the intensity of a thousand suns.

[pp-archived]

Family History 101 || Amara & Dean

     For 24 years, Dean Winchester had never questioned anything in his life. He'd never questioned why the sun rose. He'd never questioned why his father would come home late, sporting a new set of wacky injuries. He'd never even questioned why he was so damn good with blades. He'd just accepted it as fact -- it was who he was. 

     But with the abrupt passing of his father -- an accident, they'd said (how a grown man in his forties with the reflexes of a twenty-year-old could accidentally fall off a cliff face, he'd never understand) -- came a flurry of questions. Dean Winchester had never once questioned the family business. Yet suddenly, here he sat alone in a bar, eyes flickering page-to-page of his father's handwritten journal, only two words consistently etched within its pages;

                              Saint.

                                          Anchor.

     Thrumming his fingertips upon the wooden bar counter, Dean rolled his eyes. Words of a madman, really. A paranoid madman. Perhaps one day he'd understand.

     He downed the remnants of his glass of whiskey, but instead of tasting the familiar burn of alcohol on throat, he tasted blood. No, not blood- metal.

                                                                  What the hell?!