#multiplicitous

You do a beautiful, tender, skittish Daniel. A sweet, kind, broken man. And I love him, so much. Thank you.

oz you beautiful talented individual..........i have so much admiration for multimuse blogs in general and i am constantly in awe with ur beautiful writing and with how perfectly you nail all your muses ( even the ones i don’t know, i Know ur doin great, i don’t make the rules, and you KNOW i love that awful man elias ). also you’re simply a Delight to have on my dash and i hope we get the chance to talk more soon !

           LISTEN  ...  you are such a great writer in every character that you take,  and you have so many different characters.  all of them have their voice that you give them and it’s really like,  wow!  you’re a writer that i look up to,  and somebody that i always enjoy having on my dash.  i may not be familiar with a lot of the characters you write,  but i am always invested in them because of your obvious care and craft with them.  you’ve always been great and kind and i am happy to know you! 

"Just—" she snaps. The tone is accidental, but she doesn't correct it. "Just go. Keep going. You're losing time stopping."

oh, slow burn doesn't preclude being a horny slut for sam; sam is far more likely to fuck his to be partner before he has a serious kiss with them. he's not as bad as dean about this kind of thing, but it is pretty clear that physical engagement is much less complicated than being in love. the latter almost feels like he's betraying himself when he can feel it happening, even though he knows there is nothing he can do to stop it. if jason can get on with sam wanting dick in the back of the impala only to kick him out and disappear for weeks at a time on hunts until it bursts into an admission of deeper feelings, we are riding copacetic here.

a thrum of laughter lightens up the slack corners of sam's face, all those hard and stern edges scoured clean off by the childlike bluntness of jason's inquiry. ' yeah, that's.. that's when you punch him. make sure you've got the iron knuckles on first, alright? need to make sure hitting him will even do anything, and irons our best bet. ' he shuffles through his nylon duffle, one of numerous army surplus tools, procuring a 1911 automatic. sam ensures the safety is engaged before offering it over. ' silver bullets, iron knuckles. yeah? '

Now his hand hurts and Marty Robbins, ironically, is blaring from the loudspeakers installed above the pump. The low hum of the pipe turns into a heavy, wet gluck-gluck-gluck that tells Arthur the car’s about filled up, and he pulls the pipe with a glance back to the darkened sliding doors of the store. Above them, a gigantic red beaver face is grinning down at him, wide and mischievous. The scowl’s back on his face. That goddamn beaver will always creep him out; part-time resident of Texas or not. “Get back in the car,” he tells Richie, “before our friend decides to come back and deal with us Texan style, too.” 

          “  can you hire me,  or can you not.  “  she stares without blinking.  “  i need money,  and i’m not picky about how i get it.  “