so i might have accidentally hacked into the archived version of this blog instead of the reboot but the important thing is, i got my url back 🥲
moral cleaning products || O.L.
The angels have something good in store for you, a second chance – really? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty’s coming down the road. Trust your instincts. There’s no such thing as miracles. — Tessa
“ FOR THE RECORD ,,, wasting my time is as SINFUL as that shirt …. no offense.”full offense.
@cursedmartyr LIKED.
‘ ––––––– alright, fair enough. no more bull. so you wanna tell me why two people turned up dead just a few hours after they called your hotline ? ’
“ … oooooooh-kay ! ” suspicious ? yeah. absolutely. but, then again, mr. talkative, here, seems to be having a good time – letting loose at the expense of his brother. who apparently has a cat allergy. which would explain the sneeze. in her face. that got him punched. ( oops ? ). so, just like that, she clears her throat, sizing him up – and, believe her, she’s more than aware that he’s considerably bigger than her – with a decided awkwardness. “ well. hypothetically. let’s say he did want to apologize for – whatever it is that he may or may not have done. ” her eyebrows lift, pointedly. “ then i wonder why he isn’t here telling me. ”
‘ best guess ? pride. ’ that, and dean doesn’t actually know they’re having this discussion. would probably kick sam’s ass six ways past sunday if he did. evidently, though, the younger winchester isn’t easily deterred. ‘ so, while we’re still on this hypothesis — i’d cut him a little slack. maybe consider a reduced sentence ? he’s an idiot, but his heart’s in the right place. mostly. ’
❝ so what then ? sadistic fetishes has to be it unless it’s a vampire . ❞ she scoffs in disbelief as if vampires could actually exist but they do & most if not all are dangerous . ❝ what a great idea except this psychopath can find you anywhere if they find out you talked . ❞ tone sharp , crisp . a feigned fearful hint in her honeyed voice . ❝ sorry , you can understand my hesitance . ———— do you get cases like this often ? ❞
‘ vampires. right. listen, do me a favor and ease off the horror flicks for a while, okay ? ’ the sheer irony would be enough to make him cringe, if it wasn’t the umpteenth time he’d pulled something like this. because this is better, he figures ; better to let someone believe they’re dealing with a human killer than to have them start questioning their own sanity. or worse : try to get involved, and subsequently get themselves killed. ‘ — more often than you’d think. the best i can offer you right now is a ride home, and i’ll give your place a good once - over just to be safe. how’s that sound ? ’
“ i mean … ” oops ! cue the nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that indicates she may very well knock dean dearest right out. you know. if she has to. suddenly, one finger flies right up. “ wait. backtrack. so – cat allergies. ” a beat. “ … soooo – he tell you about ‘ the incident, ’ then ? is nothing sacred ? ”
‘ let’s say he did. hypothetically. ’ nothing is sacred. that’s the thing. dean doesn’t always have to tell him in order for him to find out. ( he almost feels bad, except it’s starting to look more and more likely that he’ll be chuckling about this, intermittently, for the next five years or so. ) ‘ — and let’s say, hypothetically, that he’s pretty much ready to ice himself as a result. i think he’d be very sorry. i think he’d want to express his sincerest apologies for what did or didn’t transpire. but that’s just one scenario. honestly, i have no idea what you’re talking about. ’
honestly i just wanted to sleep but instead i've been harassing my girlfriend with pictures of abraham lincoln bc she accidentally texted abe instead of babe
“ i get the feeling you’re joking. ” a beat. “ which is fine, and all… but i’ve gotta tell ya, honey – i’m taking it into serious consideration. ”
‘ joking about what ? knocking his ass out ? wish i was. he practically went full terminator on me the last time i told him to get a flu shot. ’ all this alongside a poker - face that wouldn’t falter if a goddamn meteor hit. ‘ hey, i’m just tryin’ to help. don’t say i didn’t warn you. ’
“ … Uh. ”
“ I mean. There are shots for that. ”
‘ oh, he hates shots. more of a phobia, really, so you’d probably have to knock him out first. but then he’ll be pissed, and he won’t shut up about it, and it’ll be this whole thing — ’
‘ ––––––– you know he’s allergic to cats, right ? ’
@purrsuasion / sc. *
“ sorry ———- what was that? ‘ thanks for the tip on pestilence, crowley? ‘ ‘ we’dve let the world end without your help, denim-wrapped idiots that we are? ‘ “ a wry smile. “ sneer all you like, moose. doesn’t change the fact that, without me here to hold your hands —– you and your harebrained brother would still be running around, CLUELESS. so, whenever you’re ready to show me some gratitude … “
‘ gratitude. right, of course, my bad. thank you for the heads up about brady. thank you for making my brother your plus one while i sat around with my thumbs up my ass, waiting for an old college buddy who — you know, just happened to be a damn demon. thanks a big steaming pile. really. ’
there’s kindness there, in the way his mouth curves and the words that offer themselves with no expectation. it’s reminiscent of faces she knows back home, of her father’s when he’d bring her hot chocolate after a late night of studying, or peter’s before he’d run off to do what he needed to.
or rather, she knew, she supposes. the realization is a sucker punch.
it’s electrifying, sending her composure into a tailspin. memories like those are like a train headed toward a pipe bomb, doomed from the moment they were recalled. she hadn’t quite learnt that yet. (would she ever?)
still, she picks herself up with practiced ease, situates that same smile back where it’s meant to be. frankly, it’s almost natural in his presence, brought to life by his unexpected proposal. head shakes, hands mirroring the movement as if to physically wave away the compassion he’s laid out in spades. “ that’s too much. i can’t ask you to do that when you’ve already done so much. ”
kindness has always been simple. the subject of plenty of ribbing on dean’s part, plenty of digs about sam’s bleeding heart and a level of empathy that’s gotten him in over his head more than once before. a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things ; he’d rather suffer the consequences of too much compassion than too little.
or, alternatively, none at all.
she’s genuine, warm, and that puts him at ease, because he’s at a loss for how to help himself but he’ll breathe better knowing that he can help someone else. that he isn’t too far gone for that yet.
‘ right. pretty sure all i’ve done so far is hand you a gun and tell you how much your life’s gonna suck from here on out. ’ delivered distinctly as a quip, even if there’s a grain of truth to it ‘ you’re not asking — i’m offering. but, hey, if you’d rather share the pool table, i don’t think ash would notice. ’
she’s the biggest skeptic out there. someone who refuses to believe anything but logical, reasonable explanations. because spirits, demons, all of that — they were fiction. they didn’t exist. she’s had her partner in her ear for years with theories upon theories that some of their killers were werewolves or zombies and she just rolled her eyes, laughed and continued on with her investigation to find that their killers were human. but this case, this investigation? its been weird from the very beginning.
the chill that rattled her bones and made her shiver when she arrived at the scene of the crime. the lack of evidence and no murder weapon in sight, nothing on the victims bodies to indicate they’d been tampered with, apart from the fact that their insides had turned to complete mush, and she really doesn’t have an explanation for that. she’d looked over the victims more times then she can count and gone over the medical examiner’s reports multiple times. there weren’t any entry wound, nothing that wound indicate something had been inserted into the bodies to ensure their insides would turn into such a substance. there was no logical explanation to tell her what had happened to these bodies.
her brows are furrowed together, gaze still locked on the man before her who’s persona seems to have changed. he’s serious, dead serious and kate knows when people are putting on an act or having her on, and he’s not pulling either. he also doesn’t seem like the type to make up crazy stories to get out of murder charges. she’s seen his record, and if anything, she would’ve expected a confession of some sort.
❛ all of it strikes me as weird. it’s insane. ❜ she pauses, a sigh escaping as her brows furrow together even more before her eyes are shutting tightly. ❛ i can’t believe i’m going to say this, but— ❜ her head shakes, eyes opening as hazel eyes land on sam. ❛ i believe you didn’t kill them. ❜ as soon as the words leave her lips, she’s kicking herself. but they’re true, she does believe he didn’t have anything to do the murders, but he knows something, knows what’s going on and kate needs answers, she needs logical answers or she might go insane. so she needs to pull him onto her side, gain his trust and get as much out of him as she can. ❛ it’s still insane and i’m not going with your theory that a spirit is my killer. but i need to know more about… all of this. i need answers and you seem to have them. so once i get all of them, then you can see your brother, okay? ❜
the adage is true, however you spin it : ignorance is bliss. there’s no turning a blind eye once the curtain is pulled back, no reverting to how life was before ; you start looking over your shoulder, under your bed, in your closet. start wondering if those shadows in your periphery are a trick of the light or something more sinister. he was eight years old when he dug his father’s journal from under the mattress, when dean finally sat him down and told him, yes, monsters are real. first thing you have to know is, we have the coolest dad in the world. he’s a superhero. sam remembers falling asleep that night on a pillow damp with tears, because he was afraid of what might happen — to him, to dean. to dad. afraid of the monsters they poured down salt lines to keep at bay, the monsters they were trained to hunt. to kill.
he understands why skepticism is an easier option. she’s a cop ; a good one, from what he’s gathered. someone who deals in the absolutes of logic and hard evidence and probably lacks the patience to entertain crazy. and he doesn’t hold that against her. it makes her a product of her environment, of how she was raised, just like him. it means that she knows the evil of human nature but can’t fathom the evil he and his brother go up against, every day. ( the kind of evil that john winchester chased for twenty - three years, and still ended up dead as a result of its machinations. )
that classic internal struggle is written all over her face ; waiting it out is his only choice. then she’s looking him square in the eyes and telling him that she doesn’t think he killed anyone, and there’s a barely contained breath of relief that feels uncomfortably thick against the lump in his throat. okay, so it might not be a ‘ you’re free to go ’ or even an ‘ i’ll take you to your brother, ’ but it’s something. a quarter - inch of progress. and given the precariousness of the situation, sam will gladly accept whatever progress he can get — without complaint.
he’s nodding his head, the fingers of one hand tapping a tic against his denim - clad thigh. has no idea how to provide answers without further pushing the theory she won’t indulge, but that’s fine, that’s improvisation, the winchesters are suspiciously good at that. like so many things, he’ll make it up as he goes.
one way or another, he and dean are getting out of here.
‘ okay. ’ nods again, without breaking eye contact. draws in a slow breath and lets it out. ‘ i — yeah. yeah. anything you wanna know, just — tell me where to start. ’
‘ — unless you’ve got another horseman stuffed in that overcoat somewhere, you can see yourself out. let’s not make this a regular thing. ’
@fellcrowned / sc. *