EST. 1983.

EST. 1983

[cursedmartyr]

so i might have accidentally hacked into the archived version of this blog instead of the reboot but the important thing is, i got my url back 🥲

[poetbitesback]

I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE is hand-wiper talk for I didn’t think it through and look where we are now because you are the only person in the world robbed of free will You didn’t have a choice but I’m the one with blood trailing me You didn’t have a choice but I’m the one with nightmares waking You didn’t have a choice but my throat is the one raw from screaming You wiped your hands of me and of responsibility so, if you didn’t have a choice who do I blame for tearing into me?

moral cleaning products || O.L.

[samwinchesterappreciation]

The angels have something good in store for you, a second chance – really? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty’s coming down the road. Trust your instincts. There’s no such thing as miracles. — Tessa

[cursedmartyr]

disruupt.

            “ FOR   THE   RECORD ,,, wasting   my   time   is   as   SINFUL    as   that   shirt …. no   offense.”         full offense.

@cursedmartyr​ LIKED.

‘     –––––––   alright,   fair enough.    no more bull.    so you wanna tell me why two people turned up  dead  just a few hours after they called your  hotline  ?     ’

[cursedmartyr]

purrsuasion.

“    … oooooooh-kay !    ”    suspicious ?  yeah.  absolutely.  but,  then again,  mr.  talkative,  here,  seems to be having a good time  –  letting loose at the expense of his brother.  who apparently has a cat allergy.  which would explain the sneeze.  in her face.  that got him punched.  (  oops ?  ).  so,  just like that,  she clears her throat,  sizing him up  –  and,  believe her,  she’s more than aware that he’s considerably bigger than her  –  with a decided awkwardness.    “    well.  hypothetically.  let’s say he  did  want to apologize for  –  whatever it is that he may or may not have done.    ”    her eyebrows lift,  pointedly.    “    then i wonder why he isn’t here telling me.    ”

‘     best guess ?    pride.     ’     that,   and dean doesn’t actually know they’re having this discussion.    would  probably  kick sam’s ass six ways past sunday if he did.    evidently,   though,   the younger winchester isn’t easily deterred.     ‘     so,   while we’re still on this hypothesis   —   i’d cut him a little slack.    maybe consider a reduced sentence ?    he’s an idiot,   but his heart’s in the right place.    mostly.     ’

[cursedmartyr]

femmefatalings.

❝   so   what   then   ?   sadistic   fetishes   has   to   be   it   unless   it’s   a   vampire   .   ❞   she   scoffs   in   disbelief   as   if   vampires   could   actually   exist   but   they   do   &   most   if   not   all   are   dangerous   .   ❝   what   a   great   idea   except   this   psychopath   can   find   you   anywhere   if   they   find   out   you   talked   .   ❞   tone   sharp   ,   crisp   .   a   feigned   fearful   hint   in   her  honeyed   voice   .   ❝   sorry   ,   you   can   understand   my   hesitance   .  ————    do   you   get   cases   like   this   often   ?    ❞

‘     vampires.    right.    listen,   do me a favor and ease off the horror flicks for a while,   okay ?     ’     the sheer irony would be enough to make him cringe,   if it wasn’t the umpteenth time he’d pulled something like this.    because this is  better,   he figures  ;  better to let someone believe they’re dealing with a  human  killer than to have them start questioning their own sanity.    or worse  :  try to get involved,   and subsequently get themselves killed.     ‘     —   more often than you’d think.    the best i can offer you right now is a ride home,   and i’ll give your place a good once - over just to be safe.    how’s that sound ?     ’

[cursedmartyr]

purrsuasion.

“    i mean …    ”    oops !  cue the nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that indicates she may very well knock dean dearest right out.  you know.  if she has to.  suddenly,  one finger flies right up.    “    wait.  backtrack.  so  –  cat allergies.    ”    a beat.    “    … soooo  –  he tell you about  ‘  the incident, ’  then ?    is nothing sacred ?    ”

‘     let’s say he did.    hypothetically.     ’     nothing  is  sacred.    that’s the thing.    dean doesn’t always have to  tell him  in order for him to find out.    (   he almost feels bad,   except it’s starting to look more and more likely that he’ll be chuckling about this,   intermittently,   for the next five years or so.   )     ‘     —   and let’s say,   hypothetically,   that he’s pretty much ready to ice himself as a result.    i think he’d be very sorry.    i think he’d want to express his sincerest apologies for what did or didn’t transpire.    but that’s just one scenario.    honestly,   i have no idea what you’re talking about.     ’

[cursedmartyr]

honestly i just wanted to sleep but instead i've been harassing my girlfriend with pictures of abraham lincoln bc she accidentally texted abe instead of babe

[cursedmartyr]

purrsuasion.

“    i get the feeling you’re joking.    ”    a beat.    “    which is fine, and all…  but i’ve gotta tell ya,  honey   –  i’m taking it into serious consideration.    ”

‘     joking about what ?    knocking his ass out ?    wish i was.    he practically went full  terminator  on me the last time i told him to get a flu shot.     ’     all this alongside a poker - face that wouldn’t falter if a goddamn  meteor  hit.     ‘     hey,   i’m just tryin’ to help.    don’t say i didn’t warn you.     ’

[cursedmartyr]

purrsuasion.

“    … Uh.    ”

“    I mean. There are shots for that.    ”

‘     oh,   he hates shots.    more of a  phobia,   really,   so you’d probably have to knock him out first.    but then he’ll be pissed,   and he won’t shut up about it,   and it’ll be this  whole thing   —     ’

[cursedmartyr]

‘     –––––––   you know he’s allergic to  cats,   right ?     ’

@purrsuasion   /   sc.   *

[cursedmartyr]

fellcrowned.

                             “         sorry ———-      what was that?   ‘ thanks for the tip on pestilence, crowley? ‘   ‘ we’dve let the world end without your help, denim-wrapped idiots that we are? ‘       “         a wry smile.         “         sneer all you like, moose. doesn’t change the fact that, without me here to hold your hands —–     you and your harebrained brother would still be running around, CLUELESS. so, whenever you’re ready to show me some gratitude …        “

‘     gratitude.    right,   of course,   my bad.    thank you  for the heads up about brady.    thank you for making my brother your  plus one  while i sat around with my thumbs up my ass,   waiting for an old college buddy who   —   you know,   just  happened  to be a damn  demon.    thanks a big steaming pile.    really.     ’

[cursedmartyr]

i gotta go

[cursedmartyr]

gwendolian.

there’s kindness there, in the way his mouth curves and the words that offer themselves with no expectation. it’s reminiscent of faces she knows back home, of her father’s when he’d bring her hot chocolate after a late night of studying, or peter’s before he’d run off to do what he needed to.

or rather, she knew, she supposes. the realization is a sucker punch.

it’s electrifying, sending her composure into a tailspin. memories like those are like a train headed toward a pipe bomb, doomed from the moment they were recalled. she hadn’t quite learnt that yet. (would she ever?)

still, she picks herself up with practiced ease, situates that same smile back where it’s meant to be. frankly, it’s almost natural in his presence, brought to life by his unexpected proposal. head shakes, hands mirroring the movement as if to physically wave away the compassion he’s laid out in spades.  “  that’s too much. i can’t ask you to do that when you’ve already done so much.  ”

kindness has always been simple.    the subject of plenty of ribbing on dean’s part,   plenty of digs about sam’s  bleeding heart  and a level of empathy that’s gotten him in over his head more than once before.    a small price to pay,   in the grand scheme of things  ;  he’d rather suffer the consequences of too  much  compassion than too little.

or,   alternatively,   none at all.

she’s genuine,   warm,   and that puts him at ease,   because he’s at a loss for how to help himself but he’ll breathe better knowing that he can help someone else.    that he isn’t  too far gone  for that yet.

‘     right.    pretty sure all i’ve done so far is hand you a gun and tell you how much your life’s gonna suck from here on out.     ’     delivered distinctly as a quip,   even if there’s a grain of truth to it     ‘     you’re not asking   —   i’m offering.    but,   hey,   if you’d rather share the  pool table,   i don’t think ash would notice.     ’

[cursedmartyr]

bruisedpast.

 she’s  the  biggest  skeptic  out  there.   someone  who  refuses  to  believe  anything  but  logical,   reasonable  explanations.   because  spirits,   demons,   all  of  that    —    they  were  fiction.   they  didn’t  exist.   she’s  had  her  partner  in  her  ear  for  years  with  theories  upon  theories  that  some  of  their  killers  were  werewolves  or  zombies  and  she  just  rolled  her  eyes,   laughed  and  continued  on  with  her  investigation  to  find  that  their  killers  were  human.   but  this  case,   this  investigation?   its  been  weird  from  the  very  beginning.

 the  chill  that  rattled  her  bones  and  made  her  shiver  when  she  arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  crime.   the  lack  of  evidence  and  no  murder  weapon  in  sight,   nothing  on  the  victims  bodies  to  indicate  they’d  been  tampered  with,   apart  from  the  fact  that  their  insides  had  turned  to  complete  mush,   and  she  really  doesn’t  have  an  explanation  for  that.   she’d  looked  over  the  victims  more  times  then  she  can  count  and  gone  over  the  medical  examiner’s  reports  multiple  times.   there  weren’t  any  entry  wound,   nothing  that  wound  indicate  something  had  been  inserted  into  the  bodies  to  ensure  their  insides  would  turn  into  such  a  substance.   there  was  no  logical  explanation  to  tell  her  what  had  happened  to  these  bodies.

 her  brows  are  furrowed  together,   gaze  still  locked  on  the  man  before  her  who’s  persona  seems  to  have  changed.   he’s  serious,   dead  serious  and  kate  knows  when  people  are  putting  on  an  act  or  having  her  on,   and  he’s  not  pulling  either.   he  also  doesn’t  seem  like  the  type  to  make  up  crazy  stories  to  get  out  of  murder  charges.   she’s  seen  his  record,   and  if  anything,   she  would’ve  expected  a  confession  of  some  sort.

 ❛   all  of  it  strikes  me  as  weird.   it’s  insane.   ❜      she  pauses,   a  sigh  escaping  as  her  brows  furrow  together  even  more  before  her  eyes  are  shutting  tightly.      ❛   i  can’t  believe  i’m  going  to  say  this,   but—   ❜      her  head  shakes,   eyes  opening  as  hazel  eyes  land  on  sam.      ❛   i  believe  you  didn’t  kill  them.   ❜      as  soon  as  the  words  leave  her  lips,   she’s  kicking  herself.   but  they’re  true,   she  does  believe  he  didn’t  have  anything  to  do  the  murders,   but  he  knows  something,   knows  what’s  going  on  and  kate  needs  answers,   she  needs  logical  answers  or  she  might  go  insane.   so  she  needs  to  pull  him  onto  her  side,   gain  his  trust  and  get  as  much  out  of  him  as  she  can.      ❛   it’s  still  insane  and  i’m  not  going  with  your  theory  that  a  spirit  is  my  killer.   but  i  need  to  know  more  about…   all  of  this.   i  need  answers  and  you  seem  to  have  them.   so  once  i  get  all  of  them,   then  you  can  see  your  brother,   okay?   ❜

the adage is true,   however you spin it  :  ignorance is bliss.    there’s no turning a blind eye once the curtain is pulled back,   no reverting to how life was before  ;  you start looking over your shoulder,   under your bed,   in your closet.    start wondering if those shadows in your periphery are a trick of the light or something more sinister.    he was eight years old when he dug his father’s journal from under the mattress,   when dean finally sat him down and told him,   yes,   monsters are real.    first thing you have to know is,   we have the coolest dad in the world.    he’s a superhero.    sam remembers falling asleep that night on a pillow damp with tears,   because he was afraid of what might happen   —   to him,   to dean.    to dad.    afraid of the  monsters  they poured down salt lines to keep at bay,   the monsters they were trained to hunt.    to kill.

he understands why skepticism is an easier option.    she’s a cop  ;  a good one,   from what he’s gathered.    someone who deals in the absolutes of logic and hard evidence and probably lacks the patience to entertain  crazy.    and he doesn’t hold that against her.    it makes her a product of her environment,   of how she was raised,   just like him.    it means that she knows the evil of  human nature  but can’t fathom the evil he and his brother go up against,   every day.    (   the kind of evil that john winchester chased for  twenty - three years,   and still ended up dead as a result of its machinations.   )

that classic internal struggle is written all over her face  ;  waiting it out is his only choice.    then she’s looking him square in the eyes and telling him that she doesn’t think he killed anyone,   and there’s a barely contained breath of relief that feels uncomfortably thick against the lump in his throat.    okay,   so it might not be a  ‘ you’re free to go ’  or even an  ‘ i’ll take you to your brother, ’  but it’s something.    a quarter - inch of progress.    and given the precariousness of the situation,   sam will gladly accept  whatever  progress he can get   —   without complaint.

he’s nodding his head,   the fingers of one hand tapping a tic against his denim - clad thigh.    has no idea how to provide answers without further pushing the theory she won’t indulge,   but that’s fine,   that’s improvisation,   the winchesters are suspiciously good at that.    like so many things,   he’ll make it up as he goes.

one way or another,   he and dean are getting out of here.

‘     okay.     ’     nods again,   without breaking eye contact.    draws in a slow breath and lets it out.     ‘     i   —   yeah.    yeah.    anything you wanna know,   just   —   tell me where to start.     ’

[amhelol]

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[cursedmartyr]

‘     —   unless you’ve got another  horseman  stuffed in that overcoat somewhere,   you can see yourself out.    let’s not make this a regular thing.     ’

@fellcrowned   /   sc.   *