✕┆┆OBEDIENT SON

[rcmbleon]

Rock you like a hurricane |

[rcmbleon]

invokedawe:

As far as the news reports went Sunnydale was just like every other place in the world and just as bad as ever with missing person reports shrouded in suspicious circumstances. The town itself was bursting at the seems with demons and their whacked fantasies to destroy the world.  Mostly just tough-guy talk,  every town had ‘em  ––  but this new son of a bitch who had set up stakes atop of the Hellmouth  –– he had a wicked vision, a real goddamn passion for destruction and he didn’t seem to be slowing down any which of course had everyone on edge, and the case was just SKEEVY enough for Angel to step in, and in turn, volunteered Faith to do the legwork. He was all for reintegrating her into the supernatural world –– even if it left all the paperwork down to her. The school thing wasn’t what she signed up for, but it sure as hell beat sitting rotting away in a prison cell reflecting on what she couldn’t change.  And that's how faith found herself at the roadhouse more often than not to let off steam. When she wasn’t patrolling or working a case her butt was on a stool, nursing a beer or two. Seemed like a decent place. Didn’t kick her to the curb after one too many, and the chicks who ran the joint seemed cool, at least they never gave her any trouble, and somehow they roped her into working a few shifts here and there. And it quickly became obvious it wasn’t some ordinary bar, couldn’t have that with the bronze just down the street  –– but instead, it was a regular haunt and a safe haven for hunters. Felt kinda shaky about ‘em, hadn’t really had many run-ins with them other than  –– nope, wasn’t going to go there. COULDN’T.

“You twisted son of a bitch, I don’t swing that way

Sounds of a scuffle outback by the alleyway forced faith’s gaze to leave the scattered files that spouted a whole lot of supernatural omen crap that meant nothing to her and to focus on the back door exit.  SMASH. Goddamn it.  Bar vandalism got taken out of her paycheck, and that damn window would cost her. Just another thing about hunters she hated,  they always had a shit load of pride and couldn’t help themselves when shit hit the fan which usually meant they didn’t back down until she made them. With a harsh exhale through gritted teeth, Faith moved out towards the back and gazed around the dumpster to get a head count. Three already off running in the opposite direction of where she appeared and one left standing, couldn’t get a good look at him, shadows shrouded him in anonymity and if he was a regular he’d have run by now. The Lehane temper was legendary. 

“Looked like you were doing a pretty good job of playing punching bag, and yet the window still caught it,” without much in a way of any response, her lips curved upward into a smirk as she tilted her head and gazed earnestly at him. There was a sense of familiarity about him, couldn’t pinpoint exactly where from, but he was most likely one of her ‘use ‘em and… discard 'em’, studs.  There wasn’t any point to let anyone else in other than to scratch the itch. They’d just get disappointed and bail, so why wait for the inevitable? That’s what it truly meant to be a Slayer, addicted to death and destruction, always living in the shadows, but most of all doing everything ALONE. Besides, it was better that way. Safer. Kind of morbid, but it was a way of life. The only way for Faith.  “ That’s gonna get taken outta my paycheck,” Ellen wouldn’t fire a good work over it, but still, that wasn’t the point, “ Your compassion is overwhelming. Really, bang-up job, champ.” 

it’d take a hell of a lot more than a fifth of whiskey and a few blows to the head for him to forget that voice, the familiar rasp of a pissed tone cutting the air still the same, he had heard it enough times when she was coming down on him about something or other, hadn’t changed a bit. One glance confirmed it and his god damn stomach almost leapt into his whiskey burnt throat when he took another take just to be damn sure, Faith Lehane, hadn’t seen her in a long stretch, three years or so, give or take and could of gone a hell of a lot longer without crossing paths with her again——the last time this chick had showed up in his life she had dropped a frigging a-bomb, about being the Slayer and going off the rails and killing some guy on him before beating his ass the shade of night and haling it out of town. It was safe to say that he weren’t thrilled beyond all measures to see her and way he figured, he had about a second before she recognised him——took him half that second to plant his muddy logger boots firmly in the asphalt and decide that he weren't going no where, wounds had healed years back but his ego was still sore and her words were like salt in an open wound.

                  ‘ Looked like you were doing a pretty good job of playing punching bag’

“Yeah, you’d know all about that sweetheart.” Dean seethed darkly, voice dripping with disdain, molars grinding together as he stepped out into the light that came streaming through the open back door of the joint, filling the alley. He could see her clearly now in the scintillating glow, from the well-worn combat boots, to the way that her clothes clung to her curves like a second skin and that part of him, the part that had given a damn about her before a boat load of crap had hit the fan came clawing it’s way to the surface. Slayer sure was beautiful when she was bent outta shape like this, a sight for sore eyes. A hint of a wry smirk spread across his thin lips, the hunter unable to digest half of what he was hearing. Never thought he’d live to see the day when Lehane would be living some semblance of a normal life, working the crawler shift and picking up a steady pay check, never-mind slinging rounds at the Road House to a mess load of hunter types. His incredulity manifested into a strangled snort. “Man you working a steady job, suppose weirder crap has happened.” A straight up lie, in fact he couldn’t think of a single damn thing more out of place than Faith busking tables. “’s been a while Faith.” Dean spoke, voice flat and steady as he tread closer, broken glass from the window crunching under his feet. He couldn’t help but wonder if she remembered the last time they’d crossed path’s, or if she had pushed it down deep with the rest of the crap that she shouldered as he locked eyes on her’s, it weren’t like he needed a sorry card and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fish for any verbal apology, knew better than to expect one from her, but an explanation, yeah he wanted one, like where the hell she took off too and where she had been hiding out too all these years.

[keirametz]

Synchronicity & Ramble On by Authoressinhiding

Dean Winchester only knows one person as screwed up as he is. She calls herself a vampire slayer.

[emilia-lefebvre]

Afterlife || Closed Para

When Jo felt the air brush through her hair and onto her cheek, her dark eyes shot open. How was she outside the building? The last thing she remembered was her mother, the bravest woman she knew, taking a seat next to her only child–her dying child. Jo could still feel the woman’s arm around her shoulders, the warmth and strength of them there, how they’d provided her comfort in her last few moments.

That’s when she realized…Ellen was still alive, but Jo, herself, could not be. The door to the shop flew open, hellhounds descdending upon them both, one alive and one not. Jo was standing across the street from where they lay in wait, watching as her mother held the switch firmly in both of their hands knowing Jo would have wanted it that way. She watched the woman realize her daughter was gone, and for a moment, Jo almost fell to her knees, her own tears welling in her eyes.

She didn’t have time to feel… The Winchester boys ran right past her, almost through her as if they hadn’t known she was there. They caught her attention and she opened her mouth to try to speak to them. She couldn’t comprehend what she was now.

The explosion rocked everything around it. The ground shook, the buildings shook along with it, and the three outside it were for a single moment mesmerized by how massive it was. She let a tear fall down her cheek, a silent goodbye said to her mother, unsure if she’d ever see the woman again. The flames danced in the dark irises of Jo’s eyes as she watched it devour.

They’d done it. Jo and Ellen Harvelle had actually done something to save the goddamn world. She wiped the tear from her cheek and turned toward the boys opening her mouth, ready to run after them.

“That won’t work, Joanna.” Said a woman’s voice behind her, slow and patient.

She stopped in her tracks, a longing in her eyes as she watched them go. “But they can’t fight him alone. They’ll need me with him.” And suddenly, she realized that this was the first time she’d uttered even so much as a gasp.

“You’re not you right now, Joanna. Stop and take a moment. Why didn’t they see you in front of them?”

Jo turned slowly, greeted by the sight of a beautiful woman with long gorgeous blonde hair. She was regal, standing with a posture meant for royalty, she had a knowing smirk on her face, as if all the secrets of the world were known to her and damn Jo if something about the woman didn’t draw her in. She did as the woman asked, taking a moment to breathe and logically said, “I died. I’m a spirit…a ghost. But…shouldn’t a reaper be here? Or an angel? Are you a reaper?” Then her back straightened and she did her best not to look terrified. “I don’t have any unfinished business….do I…?” The question was to herself.

The woman walked forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Now you get to why I’m here. My name is Freyja. Every now and again, I get to make a deal with a reaper or two to pick some very…special people to take with me back to my home. It’s paradise. Luscious beaches, all the foliage you could ever want, gorgeous fruits. Meade for days, which I know you’ll appreciate.”

Jo backed away one step, her eyes narrowing and her arms crossing over her chest. “Explain. It sounds like you’re a stranger trying to lure me into a van with candy.”

Freyja found herself smiling. “There’s that attitude I’ve always admired. One of the reasons I chose you. I live in a place called Valhalla. I bring spirits there and give them a gorgeous afterlife. But not only that, I also sometimes grant eternal life. Each person I add, is some type of skilled warrior. I have everything from soldiers, to police officers, dating back all the way to the dawn of time. Every now and again, I take a hunter. And I haven’t found a hunter like you in a very, very long time. Female hunters with a spirit like yours are damn hard to find.” She walked forward a bit, closing the gap between them. “I’m not going to mince words with you, because I know you don’t like it, but I believe you were given the raw end of the deal here on Earth and I want to give you the life you should have lived. I want to teach you things…train you..prepare you for the battles of good and evil that will happen here one day. I think you would make a good Valkyrie. One day…you’ll work your way up to that.”

Jo stood staring for a moment, wracking her brain for every ounce of information. She’d been good at research, and she’d done plenty on Pagan Gods and Goddesses. Always intrigued by the idea that they could be as real as Angels and Demons, she was now fitting it into her psyche that not only had she died and not gone to heaven or hell, she was about to go to some other dimension no one had thought existed.

“So…the battle between good and evil…that means one day I’ll be back…right? If I go with you, train, become a Valkyrie, I’ll be back here eventually.” I’ll see the boys again, she thought to herself.

“Not for good, but yes.” Freyja holds out her hand for Jo to take. “Shall we? Your sisters are dying to meet the new recruit.”

Jo took one last look at what was left of the building which wasn’t really burning brightly anymore. Pieces of it were dark black, some of it was orange with ash forming. “My mother…” Jo said, longingly wishing the woman was coming with her.

“She got the deal you didn’t get. She’ll get her ending, Joanna. Just not in Valhalla.”

[rcmbleon]

Rock you like a hurricane |

He wallowed in self loathing, pure fucking hatred, a sense of dereliction that besmirched his good soldier reputation, he’d let his dad down——hadn’t happened on too many counts, knew better than to be a failure and weren’t raised to be one either, but man when it did happen, it ate at him for weeks. And now he was letting Sam down too, no closer to finding dad or tracking down the demonic son of a bitch that had ripped their world asunder than they had been a few months back. He couldn’t take much more, couldn’t handle not being able to make things right for his baby brother, take his pain away, protect him from it, that was his one god damn job and he was screwing it up !! 

So he drank, seeking solace in the bottom of a glass; but never did find it, and when he didn’t he picked fights where he could, usually with some piss—poor hunters, hustling ‘em in pool and taking them for every last cent they had, easy pickings, too easy, but riled them up just enough to get’em to take the first swing, cause beating down his own ass had grown old, just weren’t punishment enough. Dean stumbled back a few steps, one eye closed, the other half open, colliding into the over flowing dumpster sat behind the Road House. “Man, that the best you got?” He growled towards Frank——the dirty haired brawly dude and leader of the bitching posse. “That was weak.” Dean let out a derivative snort, speech slurred, a testament to Ellen’s finest bourbon, before sliding the pad of his thumb over the split in his lip, whipping off the blood.  “You cheated, that don’t go down well ‘round these parts, now get lost or me and my pals here are gonna have ourselves some fun.” Frank spat, reaching for the metal two by four propped up against the wall and pointing it at Dean, stepping closer with his douche-bag friends in tow.  “You twisted son of a bitch, I don’t swing that way.” Smart ass comment left him as he eye’d the middle guy, waiting for what he knew was to come, could tell by the determined look in his eyes that Frank wasn’t playing around no more. “Gonna have to get your rocks off else where fella’s.” Dean shot them a wink, then ducked, feeling the movement in the air above his head as the pipe swooshed above, damn near clipping him, but even half cut he was faster than some washed up has-been’s and alert enough not to get his brains splattered all over the side of Ellen’s place, cause she’d be pissed and hell if she weren’t ten times scarier than these guys. “Oh —— Shit.” Dean uttered in response to the sound of the pipe breaking the Saloons side window, the noise echoing down the alley, the three guy’s looked at each other then back at him before taking off in the opposite direction, not wasting no time about it either. Dean figured he wasn’t the only one that huntress put the fear of god into, though he had to admit, watching three grown men almost piss themselves in fear and scarper off with their tail between their legs was almost worth sticking around and dealing with the repercussions.

[capturingdeanwinchester]

[rcmbleon]

Bad Idea.

[rcmbleon]

rcmbleon:

freakjoharvelle:

Jo was used to the feeling of eyes following her around the bar. From the moment she was old enough to tend and out of pigtails, the hunters galore that came through these walls fed Jo every pick up line under the sun. So far, Sam and Dean had refrained. Did she find either of them attractive? Sure, in an objective standpoint. Most of the hunters that came through their place were much older than the Winchester boys, and the prospect of hunters closer to her age was something she could get used to the idea of.

However, all that being said, never would those words cross her lips. She was good with a poker face, had been ever since she was little. For her, tricking people was just part of her job, another way to make a couple of bucks and possibly find a way to hunt on top of it.

Sweetheart…

She’d been moving around the bar when the word was said, and promptly stopped, her back straitening and a sardonic smile crossing her lips. She turned, slowly and with one of her eyebrows raised, head canted to the side. “You know my name, right?” She said, moving toward him, one leg at a time. The look on her face was saying, “You’re cute…but you’re not that cute.”

“If you have a problem with REO then you can take it up with the machine itself. That’s why we have a self serve record player here…sweetie,” she injected the last word with sarcasm and a light chuckle at the end, enjoying giving the guy a bit of a hard time. “Although…I don’t know what it says about a man when he can’t even appreciate a good piece of music when he hears it. I told you…he sings it from the heart.”

Sweetheart, princess, was a force of bad habit, weren’t no secret that the elder Winchester had collated his fair share of notches on a dingy motel bed post with a boastful amount of fine tail over the years and it weren’t like he meant any blatant disrespect either, it was easier to use diminutive names, most didn’t even notice, or hell, they didn’t care, not enough to pull him on his crap anyway, too busy working out their deep seated daddy issues to give a toss what he called them. Pet names, yeah, they had saved his ass from the frying pan, sparing him from having his teeth knocked down his throat on more than a handful of accounts—like whenever he’d get their name wrong, a betraying slip of his silver tongue, or he’d just been too half cut the night before to remember it come morning. But there was something about having the barrel of a god damn shot gun flush to your back that branded a chicks name into your skull——couldn’t forget the feisty little blondes if he'd tried.

Dean squared off his shoulders, puffed up his chest when Jo stopped and turned, real slow, satirical poker face set on her sharp features, brown eye’s boring a look through him, one that caused the ballsy hunter to swallow down a dry gulp that made his Adam’s apple bulge and bob as she took a step or two closer. “You need to hear me say it, princess?" He drawled, stuffing his hands into his front pockets and dipping his head, eye’s locked on hers and there’s a hint of a smug smile twitching up the corners of his mouth.

“Never pegged you as the needy type, Jo.” His bristled jaw involuntarily twitched and set, half expecting a slug to it, the huntress was anything but predictable, turned out to be a real pistol so far and immune to his god-given charm, so pissing her off wasn’t the sharpest idea that he’d had since rolling into town, not even damn close. “Thought about it, emptying a’round into the friggin’ thing.” The hunter let out a nervous chuckle, eye’s darting towards the back of the bar, expecting Ellen to be there, sporting a sour-look ‘nd toting a pistol, aimed straight at him. “But your Mom might kill me.”’ His toothy grin faltered, brow hitching at her words, looking taken-aback and deeply offended. “I appreciate good music darlin’ but that—— ” Dean pulled a hand from his pocket and shot a pointed calloused finger over her shoulder towards the jukebox. “That’s a load of crap——Com’on.” He brushed passed her, grabbed his jacked off the bar stool and headed towards the door with a resolute determination to school her on acceptable rock before Ellen could catch a whiff of what the hell he was up too. Baby had the finest collection of rock gods, not one of whom sang it from the fucking hair. Didn’t take two steps further before he shot a look over his shoulder towards Jo, angling his head towards the parking lot out front. “You comin’?”

[jennsens]

[jennsens]

[thewinchesterdaily]

[ohhtheperiphery]

[rcmbleon]

Bad Idea.

Dean straddled the stool backwards, elbows propped against the bar, eyes boring a hole through the jukebox, he had half a mind to pull his piece and empty a clip into the fucking thing as it belted out another line of R.E.O’s upchuck classics. Ellen would whoop his ass five ways to Sunday for the damages but man if it wasn’t worth it. Besides one more chorus from keep on loving you and he’d be shooting his own brains out, decorating the saloon in a shade of crimson and gore, which would ironically blow, aside from Jo’s piss-poor taste in music the Road House weren’t half bad, cold beer on tap, decent enough company and the view, man, that view. 

His eye’s followed the back of the barmaid as she strutted around the joint, hair jostling against her shoulders, soiled rag in hand, tray in the other, clearing off tables  and whipping them down. He bit back a amorous smirk, tongue darting out over his lower lip, wetting it as he watched her bend over, eyes ogling her denim clad ass as the fabric spread thin, then moving to the skin visible at the small of her back when her top rode up. If Ellen could see him now, eyeing up her daughter like a damn diner breakfast special, she’d castrate him on principle——or load off a round of buckshot in his ass, woman had a hot temper and itchy trigger finger when it came to her kid, he figured that’s where Jo got it from, that and the mean right hook. it was a fact that Ellen Harvelle was the only broad in town that could put the fear of god into him with a single look, one that made his balls want to jump back up inside and take cover. The hunter swallowed down a mouthful of flat beer with a heavy gulp, set his bottle on the bar and cleared his throat before rising and heading with bad judgement and determination towards Jo. 'Round about now Sam——his own Jiminy freakin’ Cricket would be spouting some crap about this being a bad idea and hell if that weren’t the truth, but Dean was going stir crazy waiting on Sam and Dr Badass to finish up out back with research, three hours and counting and he was bored outta his mind.  He slipped in front of her, body blocking the blondes path, usual grin spreading out over his lips, the same one that made every waitress and barmaid this side of state line quiver at the knees.   “Sweetheart, you wanna change the station? anythings got to be better than this crap.” 

[subcas]

[iinferiorcomplex-deactivated201]

@obxdens  » starter.

                                  ❝  Prisoner 430019 Coming out. ❞   Stockton, California. Northern California Women’s Facility;

just like every other day the yard was full of chatter and wicked over crowded with a mess of female types. all  thirty feet walls, barbed wire and prison guards at every station armed up with their sleek prison batons. stung like a mother when they struck out with ‘em, but rarely allowed them to get that far. with the yard activity already in full swing Faith moved over to her regular exercise spot. hadn’t even broken a sweat when she could feel eyes on her. Scowl firmly in place, Faith glared straight ahead as the shadow silhouette got closer from behind and reached out for her, armed with a razor sharp looking knife. not giving the other inmate a chance in hell Faith maneuvered her body into a full swing and struck an unprompted kick at her assailant and flipped forward, dismounting from the bar landing on the balls of her feet. “OK, you got my attention.  What’s your beef, Deb?” Faith dodged the swing of the knife at her face, attempting to keep her cool. shrink would be real proud. and even though she was trying to keep her temper in check she could feel her blood heat up in promise of a good beat down. it had been far too long since she saw any real action. “You really ought to think twice.” with the warning doing nothing to stop deb in her tracks, Faith’s expression hardened and she rammed a violent blow to the inmates face knocking her backwards, forcing the weapon to drop at her feet. it was a wicked looking blade too, real thing of beauty. the monotone of life in prison hadn’t dampened her love of sharps. been awhile since she seen real beauty instead of the prison usual. the woman surrounding her continued to chant ‘ fight, fight fight’. it wouldn’t be long until the guards interrupted. with a quick glance around, Faith lifted the closest thing to her and smashed the butt end of a set of weights against the inmate’s face. the guards already whipping out their batons Faith tossed the weights and raised her hands high in the air, not willing to get a beat down for something she didn’t even start —- damn well made sure she finished it though. “  Hey, hey, self defense. She attacked me, Eddie.”

[rcmbleon]

'Special Agent Young, FBI.’ He introduced himself to the yard guard without falter, posture all business and a rigid upper lip, adopting the persona of a no nonsense federal agent had been something he and Sam had done on more than several occasions (hell more than he could count by now) and thus far they had managed to pull the ruse’s off without so much as a hitch and it had gotten them through security clearance, but something about this joint urked him, to the point where a bead of sweat, teased and threatened to break out over his stern brow, (perhaps it was the multiple mass of guards at every entrance, securing and strengthening the already impenetrable fortification, each one packing military pieces, or it was the thirty foot wall & razor sharp wires encasing the vicinity)——it had become quite clear, after those heaven high gates had slammed shut behind him that if all went south the only way outta there were in cuffs, or a body bag. He reached into his inner pocket to retrieve the federal government cealed and approved extradition forms, as forged work went Bobby had really stepped up his A—game, as it turned out he knew a guy who knew a guy, frank something, big conspiracy nut with a few bolts loose according to Bobby, but he was the best——Dean didn’t need to know the specifics, didn’t care too much for them either, especially with the Apocalypse nipping at his doc martens. Dean glanced at the guard’s name tag, Eddie, who seemed to buy most of the shtick the hunter was selling, until his eyes fell upon the inmates name, he met the hunters unwavering glare with a look of suspicion. “Faith Lehane.?” Dean removed the papers from his grasp before he could inspect them more carefully and tucked them away. “Yeah, is there a problem?” He stared him down for what seemed like the longest moment, maintaining a collected facade. “First i’ve heard of it.” Eddie added with more query to his tone than Dean would have liked. “Look, Eddie is it?, level with me for a minute, I’ve got a job to do man and if that inmate isn’t transferred tonight then it’s my ass is on the line, feel free to take it up with your superiors.” Dean straightened up. “Now we gonna have a problem or do you want to point me in the right direction.” Eddie pondered briefly at the Agents words and then Dean suspected the guard concluded it just wasn’t worth the hassle before turning to face the far end of the yard——where a scuffle had broken out in the short time they had been conversing. “That’s your girl, over there.” He pointed through the mass of women who were gathering  around what seemed like a full blown chick fight and hollering obscenities. Within moments  Dean was sprinting across the yard, followed by several armed && vested guards, more than he would have deemed necessary for a one on one brawl. “Holly crap——” Words jumped out of his mouth as he witnessed the butt end of a set of weights smashing into the bridge of some butch chicks nose. As quick as the fight had started the brunette chick, looking pretty hot in jeans and a white vest had ended it. The guards held steady, seeming almost reluctant to jump in, half the dudes looked like they were about to piss their pants while the others were washed pale with relief that the brunette had submitted so easily——He eyed her cautiously, didn’t seem so tough, with all the slayer lore and amp he had heard he was expecting——hell he had no idea what he was expecting, maybe someone bigger in stature and less punk rock barbie . 

“ Who'd be crazy enough to try to take you out?” Eddie responded to the girl, tone conveying utter shock and disbelief and Deans brow shot up at the single comment, things getting a hell of a lot more interesting by the second. “Ok miss...” His words trailed off, long enough to steer around her left and retrieve a set of handcuffs from a bystanding guard. “You're coming with me.”His body breathed a sigh of relief as he slapped on the cuffs and managed to tighten them before he endured the same fate as the blonde being hauled off to the infirmary with a busted nose. With a firm grip on her arm he nudged the girl forward.  “No funny business, you hear!?”

[rcmbleon]

"I know it’s not easy, but I’m gonna die, and you can’t stop it. "

                        “Man this——it’s just a flesh wound. ”

  His usual gruff  tone was butchered by unrelenting fear and hell if that same  fear and a mix of desperation didn’t show in those green eyes of his when he  spoke, voice trembling, at last count he and Sammy were already knee deep  in the bodies of  those they considered family, Ellen, Joanna, Bobby and he’d   be damned if he was about to rack up the total and lose her too.

                “Gonna patch you up, you stay with me, you hear?                            don’t you go checking out on me now.”   Dean pressed a clean gauze to her torso with a firm hand, gut pumping out  blood at a rate faster than even a slayer could regenerate it, the crisp white  linen is soaked within moments. Davea had damn near clawed out her inners  and he’s half surprised and impressed that Faith made it back to the motel  without kicking it. He pressed another gauze and another, packing the wound  as best he could, he was no freakin’ doctor but he’d fixed up his fair share of  battle wounds to know his way around a quick fix, one that would last until the  next state over.

[rcmbleon]

"Are you joking? I just saved your life!"

          “ Saved my life? sweetheart this ain’t my first rodeo——                        quit treating me like a friggin’ damsel.”

He swats at his leather, shaking off the remnants of some piss poorfang that had encountered them that night & he grunts loud, muttering,pissed and pride wounded. “I had him until you swooped in like freakin’Tarzan & screwed it all up.” Purple——bruised jaw sets and his glareis sharper than that of the whittled stake she holds.

[necromancerlives]

Supernatural inspired starter sentences

“What would you rather have? Peace or freedom”

“You know, you really suck at goodbyes”

“This is the last we will see of each other for a very long time

"I don’t want you to save me”

“Every fibre of me wants to die”

“I made a promise”

“If it’s not to late, I think ill like to take you up on that beer”

“it’s ok. It’s going to be ok”

“This was a test”

“I chose family.”

“endings are hard but then again, nothing really ends, dose it?”

“You gotta promise not to try and bring me back

"Go live some apple pie life”

“It has been a year”

“beautiful loser”

“You cant have it all”

“Get the salt”

“I am not here at the moment”

“You have the eye of a tiger”

“Something…not natural”

“I have had some crap jobs”

“you have been poisoned, what ever thing you think you have been seeing, it’s not real”

“I was expecting a hug, some holy water in the face, anything”

“You have no idea what is in some peoples walls. It could eat them alive”

“I think she likes you”

*distant screams*

“What the hell was that?”

“im…coming…for…you”

“Call it a hunch”

“Pig n a poke”

“What was that sound?”

“careful is my middle name”

“Thats not a demon, is it?”

“The light is flickering. Urg, got to call an electrician again.”

“…sulfur”

“Are you hunting something?”

“You have yellow eyes…”

“Add a little spice to all that sugar”

“You cant outrun your past”

“Carry on my wayward son”

[rcmbleon]

❝ It takes two to… you know… have hardcore sex. ❞

The last of his bourbon washed over his tongue, honey colored fluid as smooth as gasoline bathing his throat, and for a briefestmoment he found comfort in the familiar merciless afterburn——though now after over two decades of nightly consumption it was hardly noticeable——Normally he would drink alone, wallowing in the bottomless abyss of his dark and seeded life but tonight was different, a welcomed change as Faith, the spirited brunette who undoubtedly carried as much messed up crap on her shoulders as he, propped herself on the weathered stool next to him. A sinister albeit intrigued smirk spread across his glistening lips which indeed still tasted bitter from alcohol as he swept his tongue over them.

❝Man i pegged you as the gang-bang type, pedal to the metal—untilyou broke some poor sons of a bitches and tossed their asses to the curb when your done.❞