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[[ this has nothing to do with anything i post on my blog but it's actually the greatest thing i've read in a long time xD ]]

#headcanon, re: the deal with yellow-eyes

~ John was a hunter for more than twenty years - and a Marine before that. His social skills sucked ass most of the time, but he was good at what he put his mind to; more than good. A lot of people tended to hate his guts, but they were pretty universal in saying he was a good hunter. The boys assumed he made that deal with Azazel to save Dean’s life. There was more to it than that. 

He had to try and maximize the situation. 

He needed to know more about the demon. How to kill it. He chased the thing for 23 years. He wouldn’t just give up. Dean got hurt, and he wanted to save him, yeah, that part is true. But did he just say ‘Screw it, game over?’ That’s not John Winchester. 

He infiltrated the enemy. The demon thought that was it: John’s soul and the Colt in exchange for Dean. But John got the thing to take him to its nest. And if there’s anybody in the world who’s crazy enough to figure he could climb back out of Hell - with the Colt - it’s John. 

John Winchester went to Hell to do reconnaissance. 

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The blog I reblogged this from is worth following.

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posseloverdean & youhaveyourjobihavemine are my favourite sam and dean winchester. they are amazing at playing their characters and i love their headcanons so much i pretend it’s canon. stay awesome, guys! - anonymous

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[Too bad it wasn't ever that simple. In his experience, people could be just as nuts as the zombies. And most of them didn't seem to give a shit that he hadn't been bitten. Still, though, Max took half a step back and narrowed his eyes a little, giving the guy a once-over.]

"Yeah, well. I'll stop worrying when the dead stop walking around and the living stop being assholes." 

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“Well what do we have here?” [/He reached up, tugging sunglasses down from under his hat, narrowed eyes looking the boy over, his other hand unclipping the strap from over the hilt of the machete strapped onto his thigh]

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"If - if you need more food, or other supplies, or just somewhere to stay, my group's not far from here." 

He took an instinctive step back, his eyes piercing Glenn's like they were drilling for crude, seeking out any sign - any hint at all - that what Glenn was saying was just bullshit. After what had happened to him the last two times he ran into the living, Max was sure he wouldn't ever be dumb enough to get himself cornered again. Or, well, at least he was almost sure. But he couldn't tell anymore, with people. Sure, this guy seemed okay now - but who the hell knew what might happen once they got to his 'group'? 

"Or I could - I don't know, bring some stuff back for you." 

It sounded innocent enough. Just an offer to help. Too bad nothing was ever that simple anymore and people didn't just help each other out, out of the goodness of their hearts. And nobody ever shared food, least of all with a stranger. An outsider. Max clenched his jaw and frowned and stared hard at Glenn. The guy's indecisiveness, the way he really seemed to struggle to say the right words, was a mark or two in the plus column - but it wasn't enough. Not after everything. He couldn't afford to be careless anymore. 

"I'm not gonna be here long," he finally said. "I don't... I don't like groups." 

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Yes, he was hungry. He was really hungry. Very slowly and very cautiously, Max rose to his feet and put his knife away. Started down the stairs, one small step at a time, eyes never wavering from Glenn’s face; if the guy made a move, he’d be ready. There was an upstairs window he could get out of. He was fast enough. But Glenn didn’t make a move, and, well… Max probably did need help. Probably definitely needed help. “Didn’t find much,” he said, once he got to the bottom of the stairs. Chewed at his lower lip, then shrugged a little and added quietly, “I… yeah, I’m hungry.” He swallowed, taking another couple of steps forward.

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[The first living person he'd seen in weeks, and already it was looking like he might've had better luck with the dead. He didn't move to draw out a weapon of his own and his eyes stayed locked on that machete, contemplating how far he could get if he decided to run.]

"... I - I'm not infected, I swear." 

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“Well what do we have here?” [/He reached up, tugging sunglasses down from under his hat, narrowed eyes looking the boy over, his other hand unclipping the strap from over the hilt of the machete strapped onto his thigh]

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ijustshotabear is honestly the most perfect sawyer i’ve ever come across. his mun plays him so well that i feel like this is sawyer for real, and i’m too intimidated to even ask to RP.

i’ll continue lurking and following forever. - anonymous

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He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah... no kidding," he mumbled. She was alone, too. The last people he'd run into hadn't been alone. And they hadn't exactly been glad to find another survivor. He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly; even before the dead started walking around, he hadn't been the most socially adept person in the world. "What's, uh... what's your name?" he asked.

You’re…

[ This obviously starts a bit shaky. As much as she valued the not-dead, she couldn’t say for sure what was more dangerous — the undead, or the living. Iris wasn’t one to have an over-imaginative mind, and wasn’t quite the smartest, but she was well aware of what potential bandits — and worse.

She can only hope he was not one of them. ]

…—ah, not dead. This is, um, good. I’m quite glad to see someone who isn’t… trying to rip the flesh off of my throat.

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Max almost took a step back. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen somebody alive. ".... Uh, hey," he managed, staying where he was. 

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 notwalkerbait started following you

- - -

[ Actual, living people. Iris is sure there has been nothing more glorious to see in her life, after the ‘apocalypse’, than the sight of living and breathing human beings. ]

[ However, they earn nothing more than a glance — what was there for her to say? ]

… Hello?

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mrslorigrimes started following you

... Hi. 

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Max chewed his lip, still keeping his distance. You never knew with people. "Are you... are you alone?" 

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[[ fdjalkjgksdgjs you flawless person. ]]

OOC:

[ I’m getting to my owed replies soon, but in the meantime - PROMOTION! These are some of my favorite roleplay blogs in existence, and if you’re not following them already then you really, really need to. 

TWD:

walking-survivor

daryl-fucking-dixon

ol-merle-dixon

deputyrick

sweetcherokeerose

deputy-shane-walsh

mrslorigrimes

LOST:

ijustshotabear

frecklesthefugitive

live-togetherdiealone

i-am-bloody-drive-shaft

hismuchacha

UNDERWORLD:

blue-eyed-death-dealer

OCs:

as-thecrowflies (TWD)

lena-marie-c (TWD)

shotgunshellsandfeathers (multiverse)

I’m probably missing some people, so I might edit this later. But yeah. All of the above are awesome and quality and you should say hi. ]

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[ we don't even RP but i lurk from afar. you're awesome. ]

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Reblog if you are an INDEPENDENT ROLEPLAYER

And you will be added to the List

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At the sight of the granola bar, Max's stomach growled. It was aching with hunger; the last thing he'd had was canned peaches, the night before. Nothing since he'd done all that walking. He had water, but no food left. That was why he was here, why he was scavenging and working his way towards a bigger city: he needed food, and soon, or he'd be dead before the walkers got anywhere near him. "It isn't much, but at least it's edible, right?" Are you kidding? Max wanted to say. It's better than a fucking steak dinner at this point. I'd eat it even if it was a hundred years past its expiration date. He didn't say any of that, just ran his tongue across his chapped bottom lip and quickly reached out for the food before Glenn changed his mind. Max tore off the wrapper and more than half of the bar disappeared in two huge bites, so huge that chewing actually made his jaw ache. He swallowed, took a third mouthful and chewed it more slowly. Once the bar was gone, he stuck the wrapper into his jeans pocket and gave Glenn what could almost, almost pass for a smile. "Thanks," he muttered. 

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Even after the kid came and sat down on the stairs, Glenn didn’t move forward. It was like an encounter with a stray dog, he thought; any sudden movements, and the kid would probably bolt. A name wasn’t offered in return, but that didn’t come as a huge surprise. Trust wasn’t exactly something that was handed out readily at the best of times, least of all after the world ended. Walking away, though, wasn’t something Glenn thought he could do. He couldn’t just leave the kid here alone. “You find anything useful?” he asked. “I mean, I could - if you want some help checking the rest of the houses, I could give you a hand. Are you hungry?”