Happy Valentines Day, @norighteouspath

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Happy Valentines Day, @norighteouspath
@norighteouspath.
@norighteouspath || ʀᴀᴍᴍꜱᴛᴇɪɴ ʟʏʀɪᴄ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ || ꜱᴘɪᴇʟ ᴍɪᴛ ᴍɪʀ
☩ ❝play a GAME with me; give me your hand, and play with me.❞
may i offer you a shitty meme in these trying times
Starter From Derek to @norighteouspath
Derek is still confused and more than freaking out ever so slightly, though he's suppressing that the best he can. "Okay. So, e-explain t-to me one more time why I'm here? And w-what th-the heck you are again?" He stutters out. Obviously he's not doing to well on the anxiety suppression because he's still stuttering and god damn if that doesn't annoy the hell out of him.
He looks around the large rather ornate room and honestly this place would have been pretty cool if he wasn't loosing his damn mind right about now. Aparently he walked in on an angel stalking some sort of demon in order to save the world? Yes, that makes sense! Honestly he's probably having some sort of break down right now, that's what this is a damn break down. He's stressing over not having a concrete place to stay long term and he's lost it!
"Okay..." He takes a deep breath as he looks at the man in a trench coat. And if old movies have taught him anything that trench coat should be a warning sign of something bad! Maybe that's why his subconscious has dredged it up... he should really be evaluated later... "You're not gonna kill me for seeing you are you?"
❛ there’s only one way we can settle this ❜ tone is far too serious, letting it hang there as body turns to the angel with a fist in the air ❛ rock paper scissors, best of three, loser has to go first in - ❜ eyes narrow to the doorway of the basement, seeing the slime cover the walls and stairs, nose scrunching up in disgust and stomach twisting uncomfortable ❛ slimers mouth, god what the fuck is that, man ? ❜
case found for @norighteouspath / perma starter .
Slice World
@norighteouspath
“I figured you'd chat me up... try and catch me off guard. Almost worked. I was expecting your mother.” His gun was trained on Emma, his usually steady aim wavering almost imperceptible. He didn’t want to have to shoot her. God help him, he didn’t know if he could.
“It's not her place. I have to kill you.” She said it like it was something she had been been forced to memorize, a mantra that she had been told a thousand times over. This is the way of things. “It’s what I am.”
“Well, then, I should just kill you right now.” If she was a monster then... that was what they did. They killed monsters. He just had never expected one of those monsters to be his daughter. She looked so much like his mother, there was no question left in his mind. Emma was definitely his daughter.
“Sure,” Emma reasoned, creeping a step closer, knife in hand. What other choice did she have but to go through with this? Either she killed Dean or he killed her. There was no third option. “But you could have done that 30 seconds ago. It's weirdly hard, isn't it? It is for me.”
“Knock it off,” Dean snapped, harsh words contrasting with the pain and pleading in his eyes.
Emma held her position, at a stalemate. Her heart was hammering in her chest. This wasn’t going anything like how she had imagined it. She felt a reluctance to follow through. None of the others had ever mentioned feeling a connection to the ones who had given them life, but Emma felt something. She swallowed, her eyes searching the pair so like her own and trying to read the swirl of emotion held in their depths. “How could it not be? You're my father.”
“Hey! We're not gonna do that.”
Amazons didn’t refer to their parents as father and mother, not usually. The men were disregarded as nothing more than a means to an end and a sacrifice to the great Harmonia; and upon completion of their Blood Rite, a girl’s mother was simply considered another of the more elder sisters of the tribe, given no special deference. So why was there a voice in her head pleading with her to put the knife down? “But it's true. You’re the reason that we’re standing here. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. So, now... someone has to kill someone. It’s the way it has to be.”
Fate. Dean had never been a fan of the whole idea of a cosmic destiny. Fuck that, he downright hated the idea. He wasn’t going to change his mind now just because his daughter had been born into some... some cult of father killing monsters. “You haven't killed anybody yet, Emma,” he pleaded, his gun beginning to lower. “Put the knife down. Walk away.”
Walk away. It couldn’t actually be that easy, could it? Either he died or she did, no third option... or so she had been told. She was beginning to lower her knife when the door slammed open behind her and she whirled around, face turning feral as her eyes bled to yellow. No. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live.
“Please,” she whimpered, forcing her monster face back as she looked over her shoulder at Dean. “Don’t let him hurt me.”
There was a loud bang as Sam’s weaponed discharged in the same second that Dean yelled out. “No!” He reached for her, to protect her or to pull her out of the way, but he was only human. He wasn’t fast enough. Emma cried out as the bullet hit her low in the chest, sending her stumbling back into Dean’s arms. “Emma...”
Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered her to the ground.
“I’m sorry... D-dad,” she whispered before her eyes slid shut.
“No... no, Em, stay with me,” he pleaded, applying pressure to the wound. “Stay with me. Oh shit... Cas, we need you, man.” He winced at the slip. Cas wasn’t coming. Cas was dead. Ignoring the tear that slipped out of the corner of his eye, he started ordering Sam to help him administer first aid. He wasn’t losing Emma, not without a hell of a fight first.
Hurt/Comfort Starters @norighteouspath said: “ healing is not linear , but it’s always moving forward . ” / rose or ben.
Rose glanced up towards Castiel as she sat there, chin resting atop her hand as she considered his words. It felt so surreal to be once again in the presence of the literal angel she had encountered so long ago, the man who had helped her through her initial grief, who had guided her through the loneliness of losing Thomas. He might look vastly different to that time, but he still had the same heart and soothing words.
“I know.” she replied, her voice soft. “I keep thinking I’ve moved on, it’s been so long, but then something so insignificant will just bring it all back. How do you manage to remain so composed no matter what you face?”