thesouthernsun:

        _{There was something about the man that piqued her mere curiosity. He seemed almost frustrated to move on from her and from the way in which he stood in a tensed position; she knew that something other than security was occurring in the building. The clothes that he wore, the interesting corridor that she could hardly see at that moment; it all led her to believe that she had been brought there for a reason.}  

                        _{❝ It is possible that I am back in my own world…}

                                             _{…say, is this London, by any chance? 1941? ❞}

     _{great. just great. not only is this girl in the path of a supremely pissed off spirit, but she’s from 1941. sam chuckles mirthlessly, scratching at his neck. now what is he supposed to do? she’s obviously not a ghost, and the only thing he knows that can time travel is an  a n g e l . maybe one had stuffed her here?} 

                                 _{❝ —- uh, actually, it’s 2010. and we’re in illinois. ❞}

           _{he casts a quick look around, shotgun still held at the ready. the only thing that could make this worse is… well, sam can think of a lot of things that’d make this worse, but he’s not too interested in the spirit coming back and catching him off guard.}

                  _{❝ —- wait, your own  w o r l d ? ❞}

castiol-deactivated20160427:

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

samwesson:

don’t you worry, don’t you worry child. see, heaven’s got a plan for you

sixdollardropout:

      _{Dean’s just watching TV, channel surfing mostly because so far nothing good is on. But then something catches his eye and he sits up, eyes locking on the screen. It’s been pretty rainy outside so he hasn’t gone out of the motel to grab a newspaper, thankfully the headline was also being broadcasted on the News Channel as well at this exact moment.}       

                     _{❝Hey Sammy, you might wanna see this.❞}

     _{sam never particularly likes when it’s raining.  sure, it can be beautiful, but it generally means he and dean are trapped in a motel room or in the impala when they should be working a case.  today, it’s a motel room. attempting to make the best of it, he’s sat at the table with the laptop, looking for something,  a n y t h i n g . but it’s slow work, as much as he does like research, and so dean’s call falls quite favorably on his ears.}

                          _{❝ what is it? ❞}

angelicalxcosmo:

         _{Her eyebrows raise as she watches him closely and tries not to laugh. Humans. Silly creatures when they were intoxicated. However, quite amusing. At least to her. The angel took a step closer to him and smirked.}

                     _{”I do have to worry. It’s kinda my job and I believe that you may be drinking tequila. I’m not too knowing of alcohol.”}

       _{❝ s‘not tequila. ❞}

                _{he eyes his cup warily. wait. what is it? he can’t  q u i t e  remember. frowning, sam sniffs at the drink and proceeds to take another large gulp. huh. still can’t tell.} 

 _{❝ your job? who  d i e d  and made you king? —-}

                                                      _{[ a quick once-over. ]}

                                                                                         _{—- queen? ❞}

                                                                                                           _{[ a very attractive queen.  ]}

fractaviri:

     ❝Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏғ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴ’ ғᴏʀ, sᴀᴍ?❞

     disorientation and intrusiveness, integrated into an alluring unification, flashed upon his countenance—but not before the muscles beneath creamy skin began to recline. jaw languid, eyebrows webbed in fortification—the perfect concoction for a genuine analytical contortion, mirroring that of a child having lost sight of their mother in an overly-populated vicinity.

     his expression was not meant to be forced in such a manner; regardless, it was excessively portrayed whether or not it was intended to be so strained, and one could not help developing such an impression from his cast.
        did sᴀᴍ truly have prior information on what they were hunting?

       _{❝ i —- yeah, of course, it’s probably a….} 

                  _{[ he scratches his head, squinting. ]}

                            _{—- okay, no, but maybe there’s something weird in the archives. ❞}

   _{plus, it’d be neat to look through the files. tedious, sure, but come on, how many towns had actual  p a p e r  archives? besides, they’ve got nothing, so they might as well look through the old news for anything strange.}

           _{sam grins at dean, face cracking with the expression}

                                               _{❝ come on, man. didn’t anyone ever tell you your face’ll freeze like that if you hold it for too long? ❞}

casontopofthechristmastree:

                   _{Useless explanations and no time to give them, he’s running out of it and soon he’s going to have to come back. Then again, Sam doesn’t really look like he’s gonna trust him any time soon. But he needs to try, he has to stop everything.}

                    _{“My name is Castiel. I am an angel.”}

         _{okay, this is just getting weirder and weirder. an  a n g e l ?  there was a time when sam would accept this, would take it at face value. a part of him still wants to, still clings to the belief that there is a god —- that angels are watching over him. but he’s been proven wrong time after time, and he knows now only to believe what’s in front of him.}

                                              _{❝ an angel. you’re an angel? ❞}

              _{he can’t hide the hope that hides beneath his scorn, because damnit, but he still prays, every day, and he has to hope that there’s something out there, even if it’s not this castiel.}

thesouthernsun:

                                     _{Rude, she noticed.}  

                                             _{Completely and utterly rude.}  

        _{Susan could feel her desire to scold the stranger come to the surface, which she tried to quell as much as possible as she stood out from behind the wall confidently now with her two hands resting upon her hips and her brow furrowed in irritation. “You don’t quite look like a security man,” she exclaimed as she scrutinised him as much as she could in the dark. There was something off about the corridor that she found herself in: the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she stood closer to the wall. “Plus, where on earth am I supposed to go? I don’t…well, I don’t live around here.”}

     _{sam’s impatience was rising. he was itching to move on, to find whatever remains the nasty son of a bitch had left behind. every minute he wasted was another minute dean could be in danger, and he’d already wasted quite a few. but he breathes deep, because sam winchester is kind, and clenches his stomach against the ever-present anger that rolls like the sea in a storm.}

                 _{❝ well, i am. ❞}

       _{she’s right, but sam doesn’t have time for statements of  f a c t .}

                                  _{❝ —- look, kid, i don’t care where you go as long as it’s not here. this building’s dangerous. ❞}

mexmienta:

      _{“They’re called microexpressions.”}

_{Sam may be the smart, witty savior of the world, but Ale can read his thoughts like an open book. It’s a talent of hers. She can spot a liar and she can spot secrets; plus, he’s inordinately bad at hiding them.}

_{“And yours are crying out for attention. What’re you so guilty about?”}

                _{❝ —- i don’t know what you’re talking about. ❞}

     _{he closes down, fighting the scowl on his face. what is he guilty about? ha. the better question is what is sam not guilty about? his brother’s trip to hell, his mother’s death, his betrayal, his addiction, his   f a i l u r e  . he prays for dean to have faith in him but he knows it’s hopeless. if he were dean, sam wouldn’t believe in himself either.}

casontopofthechristmastree:

                      _{A small but indifferent scowl creeps in his face briefly, that feeling of stubbornness in the Winchesters has always been perceptible no matter the situation. He motions to Sam’s hand quizzically.} 

                    _{“You’re the one with a knife in your hand, if I represented any threat to you, I assure you I’d have done something by now.”}

    _{he does have a point. sam  f r o w n s , lowering the knife somewhat. damn it. he’s nearly tempted to trust the man, but then again, he seems to have a weak spot for wanting to see the good in people. if dean were here, he would’ve skewered whatever-the-hell-he-is six times by now.}

                                                 _{great. sam shifts his stance, eying the man warily.}

           _{❝ who are you, anyway? ❞}