MOVED TO @greatestimpersonator !!

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@huntgrown
MOVED TO @greatestimpersonator !!

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the topic of their father still felt like an untouched subject; one that the each of them tread lightly. dean still talks of him as though he's alive, and when he does so, sam's gaze lingers 'pon his older's brothers features for a moment longer to see if he can still read him like he used to. as if there was some tic or a movement or, hell, even the way that dean moved his eyes to see if it will give some leeway into what the damned dude is thinking (if he truly believes that their father is alive, and not just missing). or worse. he's alive, and he's just not picking up his sons' calls. the latter may not be too niche given the recent history, sam can't recall the last time he has heard their father's voice. probably not since the last words to him were to get the hell out, and to never come back. sam hates when they just pretend like they aren't on their father's tail, and that they could spend more time going after the damn thing that killed jessica, rather than finding another case that will delay the inevitable. come hell or high water, sam wanted to make the yellow eyed demon pay.
with a mild sigh of annoyance, sam begrudgingly takes the folder of papers, and scans over the contents as quickly as he can to catch up to speed with dean. the pictures don't help much to paint a picture, only the abandoned car with no evidence that there was force. officials even said that it was as though he never even got out of the vehicle. an eery sensation creeps up along the hairs of sam's neckline, a lowly hum in the back of his head, a creeping sensation of what is to come, as he has experienced it before. sam wonders if he can keep it at bay, long enough to hopefully excuse himself and brace himself for the looming impact of a potential vision that seems to have taken him lately whenever he's conscious. it's bad enough that nightmares have to plague him whenever he's asleep, but now while he's awake?
sam reaches his fingers up and rubs just above where his brow lay, massaging the area to inwardly tell himself that he's just getting a headache. that's all. four hours of sleep, sixteen hours in a cramped, old impala two feet from his brother and his loud, loud music can curl forth any semblance of a headache for even the best soldier. sam closes the folder, hoping that removing his gaze from the contents may stall the gnawing anxiety that festers within the youngest winchester. "possession?" sam throws out, an idea that he didn't have much confidence in, but may help the steady process of them figuring it out. "has there been any patterns yet?"
────────────── there’s a thickness in the air between them , the kind that dean registers and unspoken tension --------- sam had been gone for nearly four years , had been entirely out of contact with dean for over half of that . it felt less like two friends reconnecting after years and more like two strangers meeting for the first time . shared blood was barely enough to make up for the differences between them now, even more glaring now that jessica was gone ( sam was his father’s son , stained with crimson and ichor, blindly intoxicated by rage and vindication ── dean was merely putting on a facade , trying desperately to fit in where he didn’t belong ) . emerald hues study the younger winchester , hoping to register the subtle changes in demeanor , attempting to decipher the tension in sam’s shoulders . there was a time where sam was an open book , bleeding his hand even when he tried to be discreet --------- 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 . . .
sam’s hand reaches up to massage his forehead , and dean makes note of the familiar action ; sam had been doing it a lot since their reunion , but dean still hasn’t fully understood the reason behind it all . “ twenty more just like it , over the span of two decades . ” the entire folder is thrust in sam’s direction before body pivots to rummage in the trunk some more . these hunts were just biding time , burning of steam as they follow their father’s cold trail . john clearly didn’t want to be found , didn’t want them knowing where he was --------- didn’t want dean knowing where he was , it was still unclear if their father even knew sam was with him . fingertips trace the outline of one of the machetes , the last “ G I F T ” that dean had received from their absent father , an eternal reminder of one of dean’s latest failed hunts . throat clears momentarily before gruff voice escapes pursed lips . “ too far apart for local police ‘ta notice tha’ trend . ”
hands adjust the sleeves of worn leather --------- another “gift” from john , a hand - me - down that held an eternal spot in his wardrobe . parts of the leather were fraying , the sleeves started to smell like motor oil and whiskey , but it was the only real reminder that john had once cared about him . “ maybe if cops weren’t so fuck’n useless , this shit’d be resolved by now . ”
────────────── smile tugs at the his lips , bitterness tightens the corners of his mouth as gaze lifts from the trunk of the impala . ‘ DAD LET YOU GO ON A HUNTING TRIP BY YOURSELF ? ’ it’s likely meant as playful banter , a joyful reunion between brothers --------- softened delivery fails to conceal the chiding nature of the words . all animosity stifled between megawatt smile , emerald gaze disguises the hurt lingering beneath as throat clears : “ i’m twenty-six , dude . ” eyes return to the arsenal below him , calloused fingers carelessly rummage through the crowded trunk ( he’d already found what he’d needed , but the comment had shaken him more than he was willing to admit ) . the hunt in new orleans had been nothing but a fool’s errand , a way to get him off john’s back for a while ── 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕟 , 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟 ! mumbled whisper of confirmation before manilla folder is brandished in the air , figure leans backwards against the glossy metal frame of the trunk before hands open the folder and sort through its pages . “ dad was checkin’ out this two-lane blacktop just outside ‘a jericho . about a month ago , this guy goes missin’ . . . vanished without a trace . found his car , but he’s still mia . ” faded image is shoved into sam’s hands as gaze continues to follow the contents of the folder --------- dean was always left to pick up the pieces of his family , wasn't he ?
↻ || @gankmonsters
i fear a revamp may be in order….
«ᴏᴋᴀʏ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘʏ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ.»

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well, this certainly is a snag in her plans; but of course, not terribly troublesome. the bond that she has meticulously carved out between she and the younger winchester is something akin to art, she's perfected each and every syllable she whispered into the shell of sam's ear. there's a clench to her jaw when she hears dean's timbre, masquerading her mild frustration to something akin to understanding; dean has always revolted at the idea of demons, even her before he went to hell. trust has never been a bridge that they found themselves upon, but rather burned down the minute that he found out what she is. he's done his part, he broke the first seal; why can't he go back and rot in the fiery pits of hell again? instead of admitting her thoughts aloud, she instead tuts her tongue. "hard to admit when a demon is right, hmm?" she inquires, a brow arching, finger tracing along the motel dresser as she swipes away a line of dust. "i'd be pissed about it too."
. ✰ * ⊹ ᗪ . ᗯ. ────────────── ❝ as if you fuck’n been right about anythin’ so far . ❞ words are grumbled around the lip of the beer bottle , animous snare targeted in her directions before fingers white knuckle the emerald tinted glass . dean had been to hell and back ( literally ) , and the last thing he had the patience for was ruby’s satanic propaganda . ❝ y’er just like every other demon . ❞ the sneer is direct , aimed in her direction , but dean knows that ruby’s mangled soul would remain unphased . ❝ just like them , you lie , you worm your way into his mind . ᴡᴇʟʟ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ’ɴ ᴘᴜᴘᴘᴇᴛ . ❞
❝ don’t forget . . . i saw what you really look like . beneath the poor schmuck that y’er wearin’ . . . and let me say , y’er one ugly bitch . ❞ heavy sigh as chilled carbonation hits his tongue , throat gargles the beer before the cool circulates around his chest and settles in the pit of his stomach . ❝ y’er not special sweetheart . if ya ask me , y’er overplayed . ❞
hey y’all! i know things have been suuuper quiet on my end, but it’s because school has been kicking my ass recently… i anticipate my activity to start picking up next week, after i’m done competing for school (legit so excited to not have practice until midnight 3x a week)!! so excited to write again :)
IN THE HUE OF WHITE PICKET FENCES, SPRINKLERS GOING OFF LIKE CLOCKWORK, THE GRADIENT OF SUNLIGHT SPRINKLED BELOW PERFECT GREENS— mari dai has found a home. a life. a sanctuary, that comes with god's grace of a lie. [NICE TO MEET YOU, PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MY NAME IS— MY NAME IS—] their name now comes with a k. swooped through with references and hints. keiko: as in the first orca released back into the wild. as in, the trapped cage of a life, wasted. as in, re-learning to acquaint themselves with the open waters— (as in, mari dai is sentimental enough to portray themselves as something they can identify with, and the cops aren't smart enough to know better.) THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN TO BLANK SLATES. features half sheathed in smoke from a cigarette that's just recently gone. tapped out in an ashtray inside, a book resides beside it: a picture of domestic comforts, once rendered impossible. now, the world realigns. "hm." mari— PAUSE. REWORK. PLAY— keiko's hand slides against the palm of the other's, brief enough to satisfy: not enough to indulge. "nice to m — meet you, sam." a blink, a tilt of her head, and their gaze sweeps from head to toe. her form slants against the doorframe, near lazy. "you buy? o — or rent?"
. ✰ * ⊹ ѕ . ω. ────────────── smile softens around the edges but it’s all a facade ; it doesn’t quite reach his eyes , and hazel hues remain cold , beady , hungry . head gently nods in acknowledgment , gaze wanders around the wooden porch before landing back at the other . ❝ buy . my first home ! ❞ voice cheers mock enthusiasm , tone dry along the edges , hands shove back in his pockets before throat clears . he’d always thought jessica would be standing beside him for these moments , that he would be happy by her side ────── but instead his soul was tainted by torture and misery , she was burning in the pit , and all of these accomplishments seem vacuous , soaked in the tainted meaninglessness of humanity .
❝ what about you ? buy or rent ? ❞ curiosity is easily faked , entire demeanor shifts as puppy dog eyes are flashed in the other’s directions ────── the very same gaze that had manipulated sam’s way to the top of the demonic totem pole . he was growing tired of these small fallacies , false prophecies of normalcy ; sam winchester was a god amongst men , with the means to end the world ! but for now , he had to lay low until the hunters were off his trail , until he was strong enough to challenge god’s favorite son . ❝ i don’t think i ever caught your name . ❞
just a reminder that both of my blogs (@foreverwants and @huntgrown) are EXTREMELY LOW ACTIVITY and replies take for ever. i’m a law student with a busy ass schedule, and this hellsite is the LEAST of my concerns. i’m here for fun, not work!
that being said, mutuals can ask for my disco – i’m way more responsive there than on tumblr. i love chatting/plotting, but writing takes too much energy from me sometimes!
lyric starter call / @huntgrown / i know the end , phoebe bridgers
" there's big bolts of lightning hanging low over the coast everyone's convinced it's a government drone / an alien spaceship ... i guess the ends here . "
. ✰ * ⊹ ᗪ . ᗯ. ────────────── emerald hues narrow and jaw clenches as sam talks , fists clench momentarily before relaxing . sam had no remorse for his actions ── that much was clear in the blase attitude on sam’s expression , the monotone in his voice . maybe they had all been right about sam , maybe he really couldn’t be saved . ❝ it’s the fuck’n apocalypse , sam . ❞ he can’t disguise the acidity in tone , the way that glare digs into the square of sam’s shoulders . ❝ you started the end of the fucking world . ❞
sam had been right about the omens plaguing the world , but flashes of lightning were the least of their concerns with the devil on the loose . ❝ the least you could do is take some responsibility . a lil’ remorse wouldn’t hurt either . ❞

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Finn Wittrock as Harry Gardner AMERICAN HORROR STORY: Red Tide “Thirst”
there's a soft smirk that takes to her lips when she hears the venom that bites sam's throat, poisoned by the drinks he's polluting his body with, akin with the warmth of her blood that simmers in his belly; they are joined as one. some would find it romantic; she finds it thrilling. there's an arch to her brow, and she waits until the onslaught of sam's timbre simmers down, and she moves to take the vacant spot next to him. "careful, sam," she almost purrs, earthly hues scanning the outline of his wartorn countenance. "if i didn't know any better, sounds like the puppy is capable of hate." she wants to edge him on, wants to see him reach his fullest potential; because it will give her the reward that she so desperately deserve. reaching out, she brushes wisps of chestnut bangs away from sam's forehead, a tender touch in stark contrast to what they have been practicing, exorcising demons through means of sam's untapped abilities. it's to carve out some semblance of sentimental connection therein lies between them, to find a way to have sam not only fixated on her blood, but to her as well. he'll make such a great boy king, she muses to herself. "practice makes perfect, right? let's find the next son'uva bitch to yank a demon out of. okay?"
. ✰ * ⊹ ѕ . ω. ────────────── head leans into the gentle touch , heavy lids shut momentarily as warm sigh passes through his lips , heat of the liquor curling in his stomach and slowing the thrum of his heart , mixing with crimson ichor and deluding his mind . it had been months since he’d watched dean get torn to shreds , since he’d buried mangled flesh ── images of his brother’s corpse flash behind tortured eyelids , head shakes momentarily before bottle of liquor is placed on the ground . sam’s angel had died brutal and bloody , and the devil had consumed him whole . ❝ ’m tired of all the small demons . ❞ words come out slurred , vision blurs slightly around the edges as sam can feel the power consuming him . ❝ ’m ready for more . . . i can take on someone bigger now . ❞
❝ i just need more blood . ❞ desperation clings to his chest , warmth in his veins slowly transforms into an invisible itch . sam was more powerful than ever before , and all he had to do was sacrifice his soul ! ❝ not just your blood . . . i need more . i’m ready for more . ❞
fyi if we’re mutuals you have full consent to be as feral as you want in asks and dms
what was meant to be a couple hours of playing catch - up had resulted in her practically holed up at the bar and grill, seated at the bar with a half - full glass of whiskey she'd hardly touched since. moving around while the gilbert girl and co. attended school made her life easier, but it also left her vulnerable to the nosy townsfolk, eager to make conversation. love your new hair, it's stunning ! of course it was, not that her lesser - version would know anything about it. perhaps, the only highlight of it all, but still horrid enough that it left the doppelganger wanting to gouge her own eyes out or remove her daylight bracelet just to traumatize them with her burnt, fiery corpse. the town had grown quieter these days, still rife with the same amateurish scenes that'd pop up every now and then, but not enough to blend in if she needed to make noise.
the vampiress knew everyone and everything in mystic falls by this point, and the wave of new energy entering the vicinity and even seating near her had her on edge. but she couldn't help the intrigue that coursed through her, though she could identify the hunter's tell - tale from a mile away. it was the walk, the scent, the near - inaudible sound of weapons brushing against cloth. she should leave, but doing so would've drawn more attention her way.
carmines pulled into a half - smile, something laced with mischievousness, manicured brow lifting. “ couldn't you tell ? ” playful in nature, she gestured towards the bartender to signal for another glass of whiskey, same as hers, and shifted her body to face him the slightest. chin rested over her palm, elbow over the counter, and she made no efforts to hide the way hazels inspected his physique. “ they lack the proper manners when something interesting shows up, it's like whiplash. ” she looked over where the patrons had started to mind their own, one by one. “ what brings you to town ? nobody ever really wants to stop unless they have no choice. ”
. ✰ * ⊹ ᗪ . ᗯ. ────────────── huff of laughter and head shakes slightly before beer is finished , glass gently taps against the worn mahogany of the bar before calloused fingers scratch at the untamed scruff on his chin . coy grin spreads as eyes trail over his body , figure leans backwards in the stool before shoulders shrug . dean had never been shy about enjoying the finer things in life , especially now that he had a one - way ticket to hell , and sam could wait a little while longer for his ( relatively unhelpful ) assistance researching . ❝ you sayin’ i’m interestin’ , huh ? ❞ dean knew that the case was wearing him down ── or maybe it was the impending deadline , the promise of an eternal immolation . ❝ well honey , ya don’t even know the half ‘a it . ❞ new drink is placed in front of him , gentle hiss escapes his lips as whiskey burns its way down his throat and warmth pools in the pit of his gut .
❝ didn’t really have a choice . ❞ fingers gesture to the bartender for another round before he finishes the glass , face tenses momentarily before gaze falls upon the girl again . ❝ car broke down just down the road . needed a replacement spark plug , and this was the closest destination . ❞
❝ my brother ‘n i are on a road trip . ❞ it was far more information than the other asked for , and dean wasn’t entirely sure why he was giving it ; maybe it was him desperately clinging onto a life that he’d never live , one where he wasn’t going to hell and sam still had jessica . ❝ comin’ from tennessee . lil’ sammy really wanted ta’ see the empire state building . ❞ as if dean would ever drive into that wretched city ever again .
Your camera roll if you hunted with Sam and Dean.

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there is no 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴
from what i've been through
. ✰ * ⊹ ᗪ . ᗯ. ────────────── it was the same mentality that he’d seen reflected in his own brother , the same misplaced belief in a higher purpose and a divine truth . to him , it was nothing more than a pile of bullshit ── the same false prophecies that the dicks with wings spewed to those who did not know any better , a message of a higher purpose from an absent god . ❝ no ‘ffense , but y’er so far from the truth , sweetheart . ❞
smoke blows in the direction of @edensrib’s face , brows pull together as calloused fingers tap the excess ash off lit joint . shoulders relax ( for what felt like the first time in weeks , ever since he’d returned from the depths of hell ) , head shakes slowly and emerald hues fixate on the other . ❝ ain’t much of a believer in a higher purpose , or that predetermined destiny bullshit . just you trynna avoid responsibility for y’er actions . ❞
PROMPT // “my part is here, whether i will or no. it was decided for me long ago.”