#rockingtheimpala

[hxywood-blog]

; ━ ＆. + FIVE.

❛ I don't know who any of you guys are,       but as long as you don't plan on killing me and pillaging my dead corpse,                                                                                 I think we'll get along just fine. ❜

[amotherofdragons-a]

   ❛ speak your   mind, as you are       clearly quite troubled at the moment. ❜

[xaedificare]

{ I once fractured my elbow by jumping off of a chair and trying to do the Crash Bandicoot bodyslam. }

[ outofthedream I have never actually broken a bone! I've dislocated my shoulder, I have major knee issues in my left knee, but that's it! ]

[incursiiio-blog]

♛——-;

               “Dude, knock it off."

His nose is buried in a book, he's trying to get something accomplished, but his brother seems set on not letting that happen. Typical really.

[prxvidor]

{ ♣ ↕ ≡ Ω ☻ • }

♣ - Sexuality

Bisexual.

↕ - State/Country you’re from

[Answered.]

≡ - Most recent game played.

[I answered this one, so I’ll tell you the next-most-recent things I’ve played. I replayed MGS3, Breath of Fire 4 and Dead Space 3.]

Ω - Got any Tumblr “Senpai’s” and if so who?

[Answered.]

☻ - Favorite Blog I follow/Rp with

[Answered.]

• - Random Fact about Muse

[Meg’s a bit more easygoing now in some ways than she was before Crowley killed her. Before the Apocalypse was averted, she had Azazel and then Lucifer who valued her, allies and who she considered family. After that was all over and Luci’s ended up in the cage, she was left not only without a purpose or people to belong to but she fell from a place of prestige to being a hunted animal. It taught her the value of company and having someone who she can trust.]

[thebrokenboyking-archive]

✆ ✉ ☎ ⁇ ✘

✆: morning text. 

(text-sent); don't forget i like my coffee whipped

✉: text that wasn’t sent. 

(text-cancelled); I wish you'd let me die. 

☎: a rushed text.

(text-sent); theyre fucking ghou

⁇: a drunk text.

(text-sent); de i dotn kno where iam. bar?? keep gettin hit on by crepy guy sve me pls

✘: hateful text.

(text-sent); I swear to God if you replace my whipped cream with shaving cream one more time-

[fromsalvation-archive-blog]

✉ ✘

Send “✉” for a text that wasn’t sent. 

{ text — saved to drafts } : I’m sorry. 

{ text — saved to drafts } : I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to have this…’commander’ title. 

{ text — saved to drafts } : Please let me come back. 

Send “✘” for a hateful text.

{ text } : What hell is wrong with you, Dean? 

{ text } : You just had to take on that mark. You just had to insist on going to fight Metatron by yourself. You had to be noble. You had to be foolish. 

{ text } : Why did you die, Dean?

[mogars-archive]

☁

Send Me A ☁ And I'll Write A Scene From My Character's Past

Michael had never gone to college.

It was a miracle that he even managed to graduate from high school, skirting on by with Cs and Ds and the occasional B, always teetering on the edge of ‘passing’ and ‘failing’ in his classes. 

His family had never really had the money to pay for college and they never pressured him to go into it either, so Michael figured, why even bother? It was obvious studying his ass off and being an herb wasn’t his strong point (and to be fair, it wasn’t a strong point in a lot of people at his high school).

So when he managed to land a job in a mechanic’s shop (thank god for automotive classes being an elective, one class he was actually good at), Michael didn’t really mind working there. Sure, it was in a sketchy part of town, and the guys there were slackers coming in with the occasional red eyes and smelling like skunks but the job paid well enough, and Michael made sure to establish quickly that the guys shouldn’t try messing with him.

Maybe it wasn’t the most exciting job, or one he particularly loved, but hey - it paid the bills, and allowed Michael to do whatever the fuck he wanted afterwards, so did it really matter? He didn’t need to be rolling in stacks - although it’d definitely be fun if he could. 

But eventually, curiosity got the best of him, and even though Michael himself wasn’t into drugs, the guys at the shop were, and well - why not make a little bit of side money, right? Some people had trouble being dealers - had trouble selling it and not smoking it. But considering Michael was only after the paper kind of green and not the herb, he didn’t consider it a problem.

Turns out, selling drugs in a sketchy part of town, with a sketchy bunch of guys who maaaaybe weren’t the best to get into things with? Well.

Michael kind of wished he hadn’t gone in so blind, because if he knew how to do things right, he wouldn’t have gotten so fucked over in the deal gone wrong, the one that got his shit kicked in and his money taken.

But in the end, getting his shit kicked in got him to where he was today.

Nursing a few broken ribs and a bruised jaw, a split lip and a bleeding wound above his eye wasn’t exactly Michael’s favorite thing. It didn’t teach him shit about humility or embarrassment, and it didn’t teach him any other great lessons.

It’s the man who came by afterwards and found Michael in his pathetic, beaten state that taught him how things were done.

Geoff was the one who taught Michael that only punks brought out switch-blades in the middle of a fist fight and did dirty business on dealers.

And he taught Michael that you get punks back with a bullet in the head. 

And that’s exactly what Michael did.