#deadreyes

      dean’s still splattered in blood from head to toe  –  he’s not quite sure if it’s all his or not.   a single streetlamp illuminates the building he leans against,  as he cradles his stomach gently.   the blood’s not gushing anymore,  just oozing,  but he feels lightheaded just the same.   sam went to get the impala  –  he’ll be back soon,  hopefully.   he hears movement to his left and snaps his head around – oh,  geez.   just a girl.   “crap, kid. don’t SNEAK UP on me like that.”

         “erica is an ugly name.”

         her expression contorts with disbelief, a flicker of amusement hidden somewhere under layers of pain. ❛ last i checked, arms aren’t supposed to twist like that and banshees aren’t blessed with a supernatural tolerance for pain. ❜ teeth grind together to bite back her cries — not from death, but from the familiar sort of ache she’s grown to expect when the supernatural is involved. the pain is damn near blinding, but she’s been down this road before. jagged scars litter her side; a patched-up hole hidden behind locks of strawberry blonde hair. she fought this battle before and she’ll fight it again — at least this time, death doesn’t lure her forward like a warm and welcoming friend. ❛ i’m okay. just – check on the others, erica. i’m okay. go. ❜ 

                                      WITH  REGAL  GRACE,    THE   son  of  h e a v e n  glances  at  her,    lips  twisting  up  in  a  smirk.      what  an  UNFORSEEN  occurrence,    though  one  he’s  not  going  to  let  pass  him  by  without  taking  full  advantage  of  it.     a  hum  as  a  hand  lifts,    fingers  WORKING  their  way  through  her  hair  as  though  to  be  welcoming.      then,    pretense  CREATED,    he  moves  both  hands  to  give  a  mighty  shove,    leaving  her  TOPPLING  to  the  floor.

i’m not on that angst level mars

                        ‘ you  want  to  WHAT  ?  ‘

then you buy socks and they say hitting @deadreyes is a bonus.