Oxymoron - Dirty punk

Ben took a deep breath, staring at his phone. He’d been digging around in hunting related forums for months, and had finally found someone who could give home dean’s cell number. he didn’t have the nerve to call, but he could text for now. If Dean called him or even bothered text him back, he’d answer. He types out one word, and hits send. [SMS]: Dean?

@righteouslybroken

Blood was splashed all over, a nasty crowbar in hand. White shirt ruined and dripping wet and sticky. Blue eyes looked up, unreadable under the tangle of blonde hair contaminated with god knows what. The body underneath was sprawled out, face nearly unrecognizable. It hadn’t been human, it really hadn’t, it was a fae trying to take a child, but it didn’t look that way. It looked like John Constantine had beat a woman beyond recognition and was now kneeling over the pulped remains to examine his handiwork. It was not what it looked like. ....Alright, fine, this was exactly what it looked like.

Let’s definitely do the thing. ;rolls towards; Ayyyyy ||

[txt] If you’re bleeding, go to the damn hospital. [txt] The amount of blood in your body is more important than the amount of alcohol!

“Dean, stop messing around I want that back now if you would.” Castiel huffed, frowning though he really didn’t make much of a move to take back what was stolen. “If you like it go get one for yourself.”

// thanks, i appreciate it. sorry if i seem a little monotone about it. just don’t know i guess. but thank you.