#replies.

[devilshowdy]

@risingshine (from here)

slightly widened pupils up to them. gaze soon fixating on a crack in the ceiling. how it still held from collapse. a scary thought, concern that it could bury her and zen.

her neck stretches out, perfectly comfortable once the moment passes. but clearly dabbling in too many thoughts to express verbally. a few long seconds pass.

"i used t'think it was all 'bout fame, glory, fortune . . . a legacy. but found out how right quick somethin' like that can be stolen away." she's sounds sad, a catch in her throat.

"now i ain't sure what the meanin' is. 'n i got an expiration date, and i'm afraid it'll get me 'for i figure it all out."

[benbraeden]

🌺Send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful.🌺

i am holding you forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever. thank you so much for sending this in, THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU PLS I CRIED <3. 🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺 uno reverse <3

[benbraeden]

i've worried about you since day one.

dark brows knit together slightly, earthly hues that he adopted from his mother stares back at dean. he's at war with himself: torn between the part of him that ached to hear someone say that to him growing up, and the stubbornness that feels like he doesn't deserve to hear such a thing. people have died because of ben, in his absence or in cases that he was too late to save. his jaw clenches at first, but with a deep sigh, his war torn features soften as he dull his sharp edges. "you don't have to. i can handle myself." he doesn't mean for the words to come out like he has to defend himself to dean -- prove to the other that ben's capable. a silent sliver of himself that still doesn't want to disappoint dean.

[benbraeden]

"hi Benny." 💜

his head immediately turns at the familiar voice, and even more familiar nickname, that hums from behind him. perhaps all too quickly, there's a lopsided smile that takes to his features, subtle but still there whenever she's close to his orbit. "hey, mads."

[rottenache]

❛ I do have to worry about it. Because you’re not worried, and someone has to fucking worry. ❜ - will

william doesn't know when he started to become accustomed to his written story, etched into stone and waiting with open jaws for his final chapter to swallow him whole. even with his limited time left, william spends most of his time behind the bar of the rebuilt roadhouse, tangled up with sonny's limbs, or trying to yank his siblings from cursing their bloodline even further with the promise of death.

from the moment that his sister was born, and then soon followed with wallace, william knew what role the world wanted to carve out for him: a big brother. the one who looks out for his family, who pushes himself to be the best version he can be, the kind of man his mother would be proud of, and looks out for the ones he cares about.

but it's with this quiet resignation that he can sense how sonny becomes impatient with time. like sand slipping through her fingers that she can't stop, she can't reverse or put back into the hourglass. william reaches out with reserved tenderness that he holds only for her, raking his fingers against her hairline by her temples, brushing her dark wisps away from obstructing his view of her features, ethereal and golden with the blinding love that she holds for him. he hopes that she can see it within him as well.

there's a pang of guilt that slips up the cavern of his throat knowing that in a way, william harvelle has accepted his fate. he will get to die knowing that he was able to bring his sister back, heart beating and breath in her lungs. if he were to go back, he'd made the same offer time and time again if it means that his family was okay. he couldn't bring them all back, but jo has always been the heart of the siblings; the one that tether the harvelles to one another.

"if you must worry, then let me carry some of it," he whispers, dropping his hand down to her chin to give her a gentle squeeze, tilting her features to look back at his whiskey hues that looks at her from beneath the flipped backwards baseball cap. "whatever happens, you are going t' be okay. i will make sure of it."

[bykoi]

"what's happening here?" — @joyousdefunct, as alan vessler.

there's a swarm of people stuck to someone like honey. they look like flies, buzzing around a belligerent stranger like he's got garbage in his pockets, rot coming out of his mouth. he's drunk. maybe high. fighting off a bartender and a security guard all at once, and heaven's just the counterpart that's itching to detach. (he'd been the one to approach her— crumpled bills stuffed inside his wallet as if he'd been in too much of a rush to put them away properly. twenty, fifty, maybe a hundred in there. she'd swallowed a mouthful of soda water, smiled with none of her teeth, and told him she comes with a price. not long after, the bills crashed and burned.)

now, she's watching from a distance. some week-old, recently unwrapped lollipop wedged in the inside of her cheek. if she squints, heaven can imagine where her almost-stranger of the night will end up: stuffed into the back of a cop car, yelling about accusations, sitting in a drunk-tank for the remainder of twenty-four hours. thank god it isn't her.

a glance to the side. "some guy—" the candy pulls out from her lips with a pop. gestures out towards the scene, a few steps away. "got too drunk." she licks the edge of her lip, her own spit becoming nothing but rainbows and sugar. she sucks the lollipop a moment longer, gaze drifting down — and then up — the newcomer. her body pivots to face him, and that same old smile returns. "i'm heaven."

[rottenache]

“I love you.  Of course I’m gonna defend you like that.” / sav @ helo

i love you. those damn haunting words that hold more power over helo than any dangerous weapon that could be used against him. simple words that curls forth a shiver to dance along his spine as whiskey hues dance between the captivating gaze of savannah staring up at his taller stature. his thumb brushes against the slope of her jaw, fleeting for a moment, there one second and gone the next, as if he's afraid to burn her with his mere touch. love is a word that is tangled into a web of memories that refuses to relinquish their hold, clouded with evidence of others urging helo the opposite.

(you are not built for love, you're not capable of it. you loved persephone, and now she's gone. your own mother couldn't bring herself to even love you.) thoughts masqueraded as demons that snake their way to the bird fluttering in the cage of his ribs, heart thrumming with an unforgivable beat, relentless and insistent and loud. but there's a softer, almost kinder timbre that breaks through the storm of emotions and claws to his forefront: you love her.

and oh, he does. and he's a coward too, reaching his palm to her cheek to bring her closer to him in a desperate need to feel something good, like how her words coax around him like a cocoon. only uttered for him. a whispered promise. selfishly, he leans down and presses a kiss against the column of her neck, an offering of thanks in a language that they understand intimately over the time that they have known each other. i love you, i love you, i love you. it's stuck in his throat, begging to be uttered against the canvas of her skin, but they remain tucked behind his canines, bitten back with a fear that helo refuses to manifest.

[rottenache]

@1oadedgun for will - ❛ This can’t be your burden. ❜

oh, how she must not realize the truth that has since been ingrained into william's system the moment that their parents announced to him as a kid that he was going to be an older brother. the responsibility for family immediately took shape in that moment, when jo came home from the hospital and she was a small thing in the boy's arms, whose head had to be cradled by not only william's smaller hand, but with their father's palm pressed against his son's knuckles, holding joanna beth harvelle together for the first time. a weight that william bore proudly, like a badge of honor to be an older brother to not just a sister but a baby brother as well.

it's his burden from the moment she opened her eyes and blinked up at him, and he swore he would fight the world if they ever tried to hurt her. his burden from the moment she would get bullied at school for being a freak, never finding interest in the studying of books, but rather the art of living that she grew up with, surrounded by stories of hunters that lived to tell the tale, and a growing need to explore that. william watched with a worried gaze as she grew up, gotten taller behind the bar counter, she would slowly reach to her tip toes to listen more intently to the stories that drunken hunters would spew out to anyone that would lend an ear.

william smiles sadly at his sister, who is at war with herself now having death lick at her heels, warning her of the grave that she clawed herself from. he wishes that he was there when she rose, not anticipating that the moment he crashed his lips against the red-eyed demon's, that life would breathe back into jo's chest once again. "i'm your big brother," he replies, as though it is as simple as stating a fact. "it was going t' be my burden the second you and wally were born." and he would take that so called burden time and time again, to have his siblings. "that will never change."