@jharvelle47 - Tumblr Blog

Of Men and Goddesses

That happens a lot, actually. The desire in some souls to lay down their lives and begin to worship her. That call to war that beats down somewhere in his soul twined around the desire to love and be loved…well, those that had that found themselves in need of a Goddess like Joanna.

She studies his face as he speaks, enjoying learning the micro-expressions that cross his features so quickly most would miss them entirely. She files them all away in her mind. “No. I’ve never heard of pizza.” But now that they’re having it delivered, she’ll definitely enjoy finding out about it.

Once the water bottle is open, she tentatively sips it, before taking a few longer drinks from the bottle. Interesting. Everything about this world is interesting. She’s been away for so long that it’s hard to understand all of the new things that have changed over the centuries.

Her eyes follow Dean to the door before widening at the sight of her brother and her cloak. Right when she was about to say something to Junior, he’s gone. But at least her cloak has been returned. Standing, Jo strides across the room and reaches for her cloak. “Yes. This is mine. Thank you.”

He’s never been the kind of man to study or worship before, and that feeling is new in him. He’s been working with angels, he’s seen Gods fall both at his hand and at the hand of others so he knows they actually exist, but he’s never really been that guy that felt a draw to any of them. Until now. Part of him would say if he’d known he might have tried to find her sooner, but the likelihood of that is actually fairly small. No, this is a feeling he had to experience to know how to handle it, to have it draw him. It’s a feeling he’ll chew on quietly while he gets to know the beauty he’s brought home with him. Dean would like to think that he doesn’t show that much outwardly, but it’s actually a lie. He wears a lot of his emotions and thoughts on his face, and especially in his green eyes. If one knows how and were to look, of course. Sam can read him near like a book, but if Joanna can read and study all those shows across his face, she’ll be able to as well soon enough. “Never heard of pizza,” is a soft murmur of surprise, wondering just where she’s been hiding to have not heard of it.

The interest, and newness of using the water bottle isn’t lost on him as he watches her take drinks from the plastic. It’s curious, how she doesn’t seem to really know anything. And makes him wonder exactly where she’s from, to have that newness.

Junior risked a lot to make sure her cloak was returned to her, to give her a message hidden in the folds of fabric. He couldn’t dawdle and risk more by having a chat just yet. Soon, maybe after some tempers had cooled he could find a time to talk to her, to truly make sure she’s alright. But the sight of her awake, and not being hunted but cared for by the hunter makes him feel safer about where she is. He’s trusting a lot, leaving her without spoken word with the Winchester, but he can already tell Dean won’t hurt her, innocent as she is.

Dean hands over the cloak easily, offering a small smile as he nods. “I don’t remember you having it to fall off by the car, but maybe I missed it.” His words come easy, but he was almost one hundred percent positive she didn’t have it when he found her and he doesn’t usually miss details like that. And he’s not unaware of just how fast that blonde delivery guy disappeared without the sound of a car. With the door closed though, he turns to put the pizza on the small table on the room. “I hope you like sausage.” The smell of the crispy dough, melted cheese, and meat was already making his stomach grumble a little in protest for not having food already. He opened the box so she could see the pizza before he pulled a slice up and onto a paper plate he had off to the side, before offering the first piece to her.

wearyhunter

He’s never been the kind of man to study or worship before, and that feeling is new in him. He’s been working with angels, he’s seen Gods fall both at his hand and at the hand of others so he knows they actually exist, but he’s never really been that guy that felt a draw to any of them. Until now. Part of him would say if he’d known he might have tried to find her sooner, but the likelihood of that is actually fairly small. No, this is a feeling he had to experience to know how to handle it, to have it draw him. It’s a feeling he’ll chew on quietly while he gets to know the beauty he’s brought home with him. Dean would like to think that he doesn’t show that much outwardly, but it’s actually a lie. He wears a lot of his emotions and thoughts on his face, and especially in his green eyes. If one knows how and were to look, of course. Sam can read him near like a book, but if Joanna can read and study all those shows across his face, she’ll be able to as well soon enough. “Never heard of pizza,” is a soft murmur of surprise, wondering just where she’s been hiding to have not heard of it.

The interest, and newness of using the water bottle isn’t lost on him as he watches her take drinks from the plastic. It’s curious, how she doesn’t seem to really know anything. And makes him wonder exactly where she’s from, to have that newness.

Junior risked a lot to make sure her cloak was returned to her, to give her a message hidden in the folds of fabric. He couldn’t dawdle and risk more by having a chat just yet. Soon, maybe after some tempers had cooled he could find a time to talk to her, to truly make sure she’s alright. But the sight of her awake, and not being hunted but cared for by the hunter makes him feel safer about where she is. He’s trusting a lot, leaving her without spoken word with the Winchester, but he can already tell Dean won’t hurt her, innocent as she is.

Dean hands over the cloak easily, offering a small smile as he nods. “I don’t remember you having it to fall off by the car, but maybe I missed it.” His words come easy, but he was almost one hundred percent positive she didn’t have it when he found her and he doesn’t usually miss details like that. And he’s not unaware of just how fast that blonde delivery guy disappeared without the sound of a car. With the door closed though, he turns to put the pizza on the small table on the room. “I hope you like sausage.” The smell of the crispy dough, melted cheese, and meat was already making his stomach grumble a little in protest for not having food already. He opened the box so she could see the pizza before he pulled a slice up and onto a paper plate he had off to the side, before offering the first piece to her.

Jo carefully sets the water bottle down on the small table as she takes hold of the large cloak, burying her face in it for a moment to breathe in the scent of home. “Must have overlooked it,” she murmurs as she finally straightens, glad to have it back. Who knows what would have happened had that gotten into the wrong hands.

Her nose flares at the smell of food, her own stomach rumbling. The plate is accepted gratefully as she takes a seat at the table, covering herself in her cloak as she begins to eat. It doesn’t take more than a bite before she makes a content sound, letting the cheese string out long from the pizza to her mouth. “This is very delicious. I really enjoy this food. Pizza. We can have it again, yes?” she asks, hoping that she’ll be allowed more than one piece.

Shifting the cloak higher on her shoulder, Jo finds the note tucked in the pocket from he brother, and slips it out and into her hand.

#xemeraldeyedhunterx #Dead Ends and Wolfsbane

❝ Nice to see ya too, sweets. ❞

He settles for an absent grin, the intonation of his voice stuck between a touch of sentiment and his usual playful attitude; just the way things always went between them. If either of them thought about it long enough, they knew they cared, but neither of them would admit it. And that was fine, years of experience had practically made Dean into a master of facades, so why stop at just putting up a smile and pretending everything was okay? That was a motto he’d gladly drink to—not that he needed an excuse to raise the glass to his lips once more. Once he’d set it down, he shook his head in response to her defiant answer. She was stubborn, but then, that was exactly what he liked about her.

The question about him and Sam warranted a wry smile from him, and he postponed the answer until after he’d emptied his glass once more. Thumbing the edge and shaking what little of the ice was left in the glass around so he could focus on the sound to clear his thoughts, he let a silent breath ghost past his lips before looking her dead in the eye…and expressing yet another lie.

❝ Yeah, we’ve been alright. Same old. ❞

With a dash of impending Hell, but she didn’t need to know that.

If they didn’t keep themselves in check, they might very well figure out they more than just care. And that wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t do at all. Flirtation and the tiny bit of daydreaming of what could be is all Jo will allow herself, and only either of those in very minute doses. A girl could lose herself over Dean Winchester, and well, she decided the day she met him that she wouldn’t give into the desire to be in his arms. Even if it might end up better than she’d admit.

The delayed reaction gives it all away. Something’s gone wrong...which really is the ‘same old’ for the Winchester brothers. She props her chin on her hands before taking the glass from his hand, and knocks the ice into her mouth. Chewing the whiskey-coated ice, she continues to look him in those green eyes that she can conjure up in her mind at the most unwarranted and unwelcome times. “What happened? And no bullshit. I ain’t in the mood for dancin’ t’day.”

#gonnariphislungsout

xemeraldeyedhunterx

Six days that all he had left, in six days his life was going to change forever. He was either going to live with this curse, or Jo would put him down with a sliver bullet. He was leaning more towards the second option than the first one, he knew how this gig worked. Once someone becomes a werewolf, they always, always end up killing someone, and he be damned if he was going to end up like that. So Jo, Bobby and Sam had six days, six days to figure this out, or it was going to be the end of the road for him.

He was going to fight though, he if he was going down, he going down swinging. It’s the only way to go. He knew Sam could never pull the trigger if it came down to that, so that’s why he asked Jo instead. He knew she could do it, they were close, but not as close as him and Sam were.

He slowly pulled up to the junkyard and parked the car, the clock started now. They all had been silent on the way here, just listening to music, lost in their thoughts. Jo was the first one of them to speak, he cut the car off, before he glanced over towards her. “Yeah, should be a fun six days.” He said sarcastically. Sam leaned forwards from the back seat. “Dean, you’ve got stay positive, we’ll figure something out..” Sam said as he looked at him. Dean just clenched his jaw a little before opening the door. “Right, well come on.. Bobby’s waiting..” He stated as he got out of the Impala, he closed the door and heard towards the house.

Jo has already contemplated what would happen if Dean did need to be “put down”. She knows that there’s every likelihood that Sam would either have to be restrained or she’d risk getting killed herself. Which may account for the long conversation she had with Bobby at three AM two nights ago. It’s an ugly business, contemplating your options, but she’s got to figure it out.

She’s hoping that the panic room will be enough to manage if they can’t figure this mess out before he turns. She’s done so much research she doesn’t know where to keep looking, and she knows that Sam has as well. When Dean parks the car, instead of heading toward Bobby’s house, she makes a right and heads into the maze of cars. “Dean? Will you come with me for a few minutes? Won’t take long.”

Of Men and Goddesses

wearyhunter

He protects, even when he brings death and even for those that tend to try and sacrifice him in order to save their own skin. Fear does bring out the worst in humanity sometimes. But under his fingers is a woman he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to turn a blade on. Something about her tugs to him, like he should be laying kisses upon her and worshiping her, not worrying about defending or killing. At least not her. Defend and kill for her, maybe though.

Her question about pizza has him blink as he nods slowly. “Dough spun out into a circle, with stuff on top. Have you never head pizza before?” He got sausage and cheese, keeping it simple and he’s hoping she’ll be agreeable to the meat on it.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he murmurs softly in agreement. He’s seen his fair share of things rise from cages that were meant to hold for years to centuries longer. Every cage has a weakness, a timer. “Joanna. Lovely name.” Reaching, he twists the top off gently for her, not quite thinking about how odd it is that she didn’t get it. He’s chalking some of it up to her falling and being unconscious, that things might just need to come back to her.

A knock at the door has him push to his feet and head that way. “Sounds like food is here.” He pulls his wallet out and gets enough cash to cover the pizza and the tip before opening the door.

The blond on the other side of the door is as stunning as the woman sitting on the bed, even dressed in the pizza delivery outfit and cap. His eyes glance over at her as he offers a strained smile to Dean and hands him the pizza, taking the cash. “I think your Lady dropped this. It was by your car.” He’s holding Joanna’s cloak, the only difference to it being that the closing broach is new, and a gift from the blond as he slowly backs from the door once Dean takes that too.

“Thanks, pal.” He’ll close the door, looking a little confused because he was positive that there was no cloak when he’d found her. “Does this look familiar?” Hidden in the inner pocket of her cloak will be a note from her brother when she takes it, and of course, should she try to catch him in the parking lot he’ll already be gone.

That happens a lot, actually. The desire in some souls to lay down their lives and begin to worship her. That call to war that beats down somewhere in his soul twined around the desire to love and be loved...well, those that had that found themselves in need of a Goddess like Joanna.

She studies his face as he speaks, enjoying learning the micro-expressions that cross his features so quickly most would miss them entirely. She files them all away in her mind. “No. I’ve never heard of pizza.” But now that they’re having it delivered, she’ll definitely enjoy finding out about it.

Once the water bottle is open, she tentatively sips it, before taking a few longer drinks from the bottle. Interesting. Everything about this world is interesting. She’s been away for so long that it’s hard to understand all of the new things that have changed over the centuries.

Her eyes follow Dean to the door before widening at the sight of her brother and her cloak. Right when she was about to say something to Junior, he’s gone. But at least her cloak has been returned. Standing, Jo strides across the room and reaches for her cloak. “Yes. This is mine. Thank you.”

Okay

So, I’m home for the rest of the day. I’m going to do some drafts, maybe nap...and knit.

Hopefully my glands will stop swelling.

evangelinedaily

#the beauty

leticiaharvelle

I'm at the ent office. Here's to finding out if I need surgery.

I feel like crap

annabenson

leorasteorra

rELevant! To! my! INTERESTS!!!

My kind of porn

Oh dear god yasssss

Of Men and Goddesses

wearyhunter:

He’s been through Hell and back, quite literally, and he’s made no real qualms about killing those that come after him and his family. Some he’s regretted, some he’s mourned, but mostly, he has survived. And it’s a near guarantee that if he had to pick, it’d be to survive by whatever means necessary. But that in no way means he doesn’t care. He can be kind when the situation, and the person - or Goddess in this case - warrants it. Not that he knows yet. “I’ll get you some water. Food should be here shortly. I hope you like pizza.” He smiles more, and the little edges of his eyes crinkle with it, genuine and happy that she’s seeming alright.

Eyes slide to her hand as she grasps the necklace, curious about her, where she comes from and what it means that he found her. And where she fell from that she came to be in that house. “Contained is good. So long as they stay that way.” He pushes up and moves to the little fridge where he’s stashed a couple bottles of water. Opening it, he grabs one and moves back to her, offering it to her. “Your drink.” There’s a soft chuckle and his head tilts again. “What’s yer name, darlin?”

Under his fingers is the power of life and death. Of beauty and love, but also war and death. Under his gentle touch is she who chose her half of the dead. She who hunts, even if she hasn’t in a very long time. He is gaining an ally, even if many of her kin were killed by this very man. “Pizza?” she asks softly, again, looking slightly confused, even if she does feel this heart inside her chest pound and skip at the sight of his smile.

“Nothing stays contained forever,” she laments quietly. “But the end is still far away.” She reaches to take the strange bottle from his hand, examining it and not entirely sure how to gain access to the water inside. “Joanna. My name is Joanna.”

Of Men and Goddesses

wearyhunter:

There’s more concern the longer she takes to answer, and he’s really hoping that she isn’t too hurt, isn’t too in need of a doctor. He’s a hunter, and knows little of what any kind of God or Goddess could know. Sam would be the one to talk about trees bending, or seas boiling. But Dean is the one here, and the one worried not over the world but over her. When he finally gets an answer, his fingers brush against her cheek gently, relief sliding across his features. “I’m sorry you fell, but I’m glad you’re alright. Are you hungry?”

His head tilts a little, and he watches her. “They are pretty horrible. Though, couldn’t tell you about giants, as I have never had to deal with them.” Didn’t know they existed, to be fair, but the possibility of them being real doesn’t really phase him. So much is real, what’s one more monster in the mix?

There’s something in his touch she’s felt before. Blessedness. Grace. Magic. His hands are dirty with blood and grime, with gun oil and the deaths of many ‘monsters’. Not just monsters...he has the blood of gods on his hands as well. She can smell the war, the death...this one, she’d definitely like in her hall, when his time is done. She continues to study his features, divining as she can from his eyes. Kind but tired eyes. “Food would be welcome. So would drink.”

She doesn’t want to talk about giants or monsters right now. Her fingers slide to the comfortable weight of the necklace around her throat. At least there is something from home. “They are a nuisance and evil. But they are contained.”

Of Men and Goddesses

wearyhunter:

Dean’s head shakes just a little as he watches her try to find something, not sure what exactly she was looking for. Though he catches her hand gently when she doesn’t find it and says she’s in pain. “Like achey, after a fall, or like something could be broken?” Because that’s an important detail.

At her second question, he shakes his head. “You didn’t have anything with you that I saw. Once you’re feelin’ a little better we can go back and look if ya want.” Though he really doesn’t remember seeing anything around her.

“Vampires. Creatures that feed on blood, and that aren’t like the movies one bit. Vicious and nasty.” Dean sneered just a little as he described them, hate of the beasts clear in his tone.

Broken. Yes, lots of things could be broken. The tree could be bending and cracking. The seas could be boiling. Or it could simply mean that there is someone sitting back, having a great laugh at her expense. If this is the case, she certainly hopes that her brother will attend to that, while she faces her tasks here on Earth. But his question is not a question of the end days and tricksters. His question is for her welfare. She studies him for a long moment. “I fell,” she says quietly. “From very high. But my body is not broken.”

Movies. Vampires. He speaks of things she doesn’t understand. She looks at him, completely baffled. “They sound like horrible creatures. Perhaps they are in league with the giants.”

Of Men and Goddesses

wearyhunter:

Dean turned at her words, not so much registering the question before he was registering that she was finally awake. He was hoping that he wouldn’t have to take her to the hospital, because trying to answer how he found her and how she came to be like she was got to be a tad dangerous for a man bringing a woman in.

Even if he didn’t hurt her and only wanted her better.

Fingers reach out to brush her cheek before he rests a hand on her shoulder gently. “Wouldn’t get up too fast.” He’s seen rooms spin from that mistake after he’d been knocked unconscious himself. “I found you in a house with a few vamps lookin’ for their next meal. Made sure they didn’t get a taste and brought ya here to make sure you were okay.” Green eyes watch her, brow furrowed in concern. “Do you hurt or ache anywhere?”

Jo raises a hand to her forehead, not getting up, or even trying to yet. Everything hurts. Her fingers seek out something---where is it? Where is her cloak? Did he decide she didn’t need that as well? She groans softly. “I am in pain,” she admits for the first time in time not remembered. “Did I...have any thing with me?”

She looks at the man sitting beside her. He reminds her that her form is beautiful here as it is from beyond. “And what are ‘vamps’?”

Of Men and Goddesses

He wasn’t normally put in these situations, he was a hunter, damnit. And yet, he’d looked down at the unconscious blonde after he’d killed the baddie and he couldn’t just leave her there. It wasn’t just that she was possibly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen with her golden hair and kissable lips, features soft in her near sleep state. It was that he couldn’t walk away from her without making sure she was alright.

And when she hadn’t woken when he’d done near everything but cause her pain, he was sealed in taking her back to the motel with him. He’d carefully put her in the back of the impala and driven to the motel, Sam free because he was back at the Batcave nursing a broken arm. Once there, he was gentle as he lifted her out of the backseat and with a little maneuvering was able to get into the motel and lay her gently on the bed. He was hoping she would wake soon, that he could find out who she was and why she’d been unconscious in an old abandoned house.

But he was also assuming she’d be hungry, so he ordered a pizza while he sat on the side of the bed next to her and waited for her to wake up.

Being cast out of her home was something that Jo never imagined as possible. Unfortunately, the Highest of the High thought it was time for her to stop playing around. They didn’t approve of her trying to find entertainments for herself...but it was so hard to be a goddess of hunting and not being allowed to hunt.

She hadn’t expected to be spit out of their realm and to Earth. Hadn’t expected to be dumped on the floor by one of the strongest hunters she’d felt from her place. Winchester. Beloved of Yahweh and of His heaven.

It hurt.

She doesn’t know where she is when her eyes finally open, or even register that she’s somewhere. It’s all disorienting. “What....happened?”

gonnariphislungsout

jharvelle47:

Zeppelin holds no nostalgia for one Jo Harvelle. It’s just temporary noise before it’s time to change the music to something much more pleasant to her own ears. She can feel eyes on her–as a barmaid, she’s gotten used to the feeling over the years—and knows who’s waiting for her as much as he’s aware who changed the music.

She looks up and over at him, hair a little longer and a little less messy than the last time they’d encountered each other. Teeshirt riding up as she pushes her hands in her jeans pockets, Jo meanders over to Dean with a smile on her face. “Dean Winchester, I would say you’re a sight for sore eyes, but y’always drop by when you’re in a jam. A lesser woman might take offense t’that kinda treatment.”

❝ Good thing you’re no lesser woman, then. ❞

He shifted on his seat, jeans sliding across wood as he took a quarter of a turn in order to face her properly. Calloused fingers ran over the top of his glass, catching a few drops of scotch that had been sitting there since his last sip, and he lifted the glass to his lips once more before sliding it across the bar for a refill. He then fixed his attention back on the charming young blonde, eyes rolling towards what little of her skin showed when her shirt got pushed upwards, before he corrected himself and locked gaze with her.

❝ I ain’t in any kind’a jam either, if that’s what you’re thinin’. Was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by for drinks and talk. ❞

The sound of glass and ice colliding alerted him to the fact that his glass contained liquor once more—though he hadn’t turned to check who manned the bar when Jo was exploring the floor. If it was her mother, she’d sure have a thing or two to say about his ways of attracting her daughter’s attention. A quick glance over his shoulder negated that idea, as he couldn’t spot Ellen anywhere. That didn’t mean she wasn’t watching them, however; caution was never an unnecessary luxury when in the presence of the Harvelles.

❝ So, how’s things ‘round here? Keepin’ outta trouble? ❞