@bitteredemptionarchive / bitteredemptionarchive.tumblr.com
"Want to hear a secret?"
they’d been chit-chatting for awhile– small talk mostly. something dean isn’t usually fond of but is partuclarly competent at; the man really can prattle on. that along with more than a few beers has the winchester wading pleasantly in a fog of friendliness. “ … is it a NAUGHTY secret? “ perhaps too friendly, especially considering present sinister company.
I hate it when people ask “do you trust me” like …don’t call me out like that ……..the answer is no
songs that inspire; i’m so s o r r y. ↳ ❝you never know the тσρ till’ you get тσσ ℓσω❞
-waddles over to- are your meme's mutually exclusive too? c: Just out of curiosity, i do love your Dean, and i know you write with just mutuals, but I was wondering if there was a way to break the ice, or not :) Thanks! :D
hey thanks for asking sweet pea ! it’s something i never really thought about but i suppose i’d say go for it ! – looking at it from the other side i’ve been there when it comes to mutual exclusivity & feeling like you can’t interact with someone at all is kind of a crummy feeling. SO YEAH GO FOR IT !!
one year with dean winchester (day sixteen)
"Don’t you dare." (ง'̀-'́)ง
@survivorsheart || meme.
“ alright, alright. “ an amused throat clear perks up broad shoulders; he does LIKE himself a little challenge now & then. one hand lifts to scratch at light stubble of his cheek in silent mock surrender. a cheap distraction but a distraction none the less as the other readies it’s not so grand tactic. opposite hand maneuvers once fried target is acquired, darts out & plucks a fry right from her plate to then toss quickly betwixt his lips { to which he fumbles & almost MISSES entirely. } & there spreads that classic winchester smirk as he chews triumphantly. c’mon sharing is caring !
there might be a hell w a i t i n g for me LATER——
but there is a hell c o m i n g for you NOW.
Haruki Murakami (via lonequixote)
they were all gone. bone crushing jagged fingertips ripped apart or a fiery blaze swiping away remains. many suspected her having done something, but she’d be her own ultimate downfall. they chalked her up as unstable and a little out of her mind. threatened ( mental ) institution and that’s when she remained hushed. wendigos were legends but lurking up on that mountain’s more than myth. fingertips wrap to glass, bite throbs phantom faint pains reminding her what’s happened months ago. she’d lost all her friends, an ex and a loving boyfriend she could have saved. maybe trying harder, would the success rate of survival been one hundred. it’s all what ifs swallowed down by amber warming liquid. placing glassware down, she slides the shot toward the bartender. retracting hands to run along the length of her face.
❝ when will i catch a fuckin’ break. ❞
bitteredemption | starter call !
he catches it through a lazy fleeting glance; RECOGNIZES it like an old friend. eyes glazed from unspeakable horrors. shoulders slouching with a weight too heavy for one person to bear. & burying it down down down with whatever poison within reach. you could say dean winchester damn near LIVES there; in that haze of self medication where there’s always a v.i.p vacancy waiting just for him. no words will leave him, scared knuckles instead tapping to chipped ramshackle of a bar counter to get the tenders attention. then to the woman he’ll tilt his head in gesture to give her a double of whatever she just ordered. it’s small & probably not the type of BREAK she’s looking for-- but helping people with MONSTERS is what he does. even within his unaware state so it seems.
send ✫ for a randomly generated sentence || accepting !!
making an insurmountable ASS of himself is no rare occurrence in the hunter’s daily routine. but actually putting forth effort to FIX or mend dense laden affairs very much is. with so few people as CONSTANTS revolving in his ever DWINDLING galaxy there is a present tug to keep those that are in steady orbit. however direct words of APOLOGY that should leave him next will lie barred behind spoonful after spoonful … after spoonful of food packed into now full cheeks. his next move he suspects has two outcomes: diffusion of the now tense atmosphere– or he’ll make it WORSE … the usual odds he’s used to.
❝ are you sayin’ i’m impolite? ❞
