[ !!!! I’m so so so so so sorry for the inactivity !!!!
The holiday season is hectic as fuck; and as soon as I can, I’ll get into replies and stuff— I mean, hey, on the bright side, I’ve gotten a little further into supernatural, uwah. ]
Reasons why Dean shouldn’t be allowed a camera with a phone.
[ Lots of new followers—
Salut! ♡ I’m so honored you all chose to follow me. If you ever want to plot, message me, okay? I know I’m a touch slow on account of a multitude of things (Including catching up in supernatural, I started so late!) but I’m more than happy to start up threads, if you don’t mind waiting for me to get replies out.
—And on that note, I’m v pleased that I finally hit season 3. c: And in pain. Lots of pain? I
love hate love hate double hate something Dean. ]
Alice was singing along to Journey hitting the steering wheel like it was a drum. “Now I run to you with open arms-ah shit!” Her car decided to start making weird noises and start to smoke. She pulled over to the side of the road, she flung the door open and walked over to the hood pulling it up.
Now, that sort of figure was really hard to ignore when you’ve been isolate with no one but your brother for the past few days. He carefully pulled his car to a stop in front of hers; smoothly hitting the breaks and stepping out.
"You all right there, babe?" He asked; he made no move to approach her just yet (didn’t want to frighten her,) but he watched her, and perhaps the way his eyes raked over her body was none-too-subtle.
It’d been awhile since he’d last spoken to Jo— and after all that had happened with Sam, it’d been long enough for him to even remember he had promised to call her.
A month, maybe… two? Even more?
God knew. He sighed; he owed her the call, and he knew he’d feel more guilty for having never called her, over calling her this late.
So he picked up his phone— dialed her cell number and prayed it was still the same woman, as, if he remembered correctly (and he damn sure did) she wasn’t anywhere near the old roadhouse.
Jo had somehow managed to sneak out from underneath her mother’s attentive stare, and her mind had immediately urged her to pursue a hunt she had been researching for the past couple of weeks.
Much to Jo’s dismay, the entire hunt had turned out to be another bust. She is just about ready back towards the Harvelle Roadhouse when she receives a phone call from an unfamiliar number. Suspecting it is her mother, Jo impatiently hits the ‘answer’ button and says, “Damn it, I’m on my way home now. You don’t have to worry, alright? I’m not a kid anymore.”
"I’m not really all that worried, kiddo." He chuckled from his end of the line, though it may have sounded a little forced. An uncomfortable laugh— trying too hard, any which way you may want to phrase it, but he was somewhat nervous, whether he’d admit it (even to himself) or not.
"Look, though, is this a bad time? I can call back later… or preferably, maybe not when you’re with your mom. It’s Dean, by the way.”
Natalie looked up at the man in front of her, “Funny, my Mom always said I was the only hunter left…”
"Your mother don’t know a damn thing, then." He shrugged; eyeing her over. He wouldn’t have believed her to be a hunter— she didn’t have the look for it. Nothing he could quite pinpoint… muscle mass, maybe, that was inclusive— and her eyes, it had to be something with her eyes.
They weren’t dead enough, not yet.
"And what’s your name, girl?"
"Any actual point to standing around like this, babe— or are you just going to keep staring?” It was a short tease; he sounded breathless, almost, and he was quick to wrap his coat tighter around him.
—No need for the blood to be that obvious.
He was only a little ways from her and seemed to be walking with a limp, his smile tight, forced. In discussion, he hoped to distract her; hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge of the gun in his coat, nor the growing bump on his temple.
Nothing suspicious, some quick small talk and straight to his room, no questions.
Her head turned sharply to the source of the voice, body stance tensing slightly at the sudden appearance of the man.
He looked human, despite the slight bruising on his face, but the very nature of his body movements were enough to put her on edge, her eyes instantly scanning down, her lips tightening together slightly as she noticed the bulge that could be either be a gun or weapon.
"Staring sounds like a good option to me" she retorted, forcing her usual cocky smirk onto her lips.
"Most do." He grinned; and he kept walking, though slow enough to ensure it didn’t seem like he was trying to run from her as fast as he could manage— even if ‘hiding’ was exactly what he was doing.
"It’s a bit late to be stalking the halls, isn’t it? What’re you doing up?" Small talk.
Innocent, Dean, you’re innocent. Or, at least act like it.
He smiled as he walked nearly past her, now, only barely slowing down to give time for her to either end the conversation or offer an answer.
You’rem i n e
who tries to
take ｛ ｙｏｕ ｝ from ｛ ｍｅ ｝
if there’s like another five seasons still then how is Sam d e a d... ]