Dean Winchester

Maybe it’s about what we inherited.>

felt a weight like this pressing in on my chest, we were about to dig up a box the size of a man. I can still smell the pine and blood.

Whatever’s under this church, Dad didn’t just bury it. He locked it down.

And if it’s trying to get out now… Then maybe this isn’t about what we hunt. <

into the wood around it. Symbols Dean Winchester doesn’t recognize? That’s when I start to worry.

Sam’s pacing now. Says we should call in backup. Says it’s probably nothing, old magic playing tricks. But I can tell he doesn’t believe that. Not really. Truth is, neither do I.

The last time I <

Said he found something under the old church on Mason Ridge. Said it had John’s name carved into the seal. Said he wasn’t sure if he’d live to regret it.

He didn’t.

We found Ellis with his throat slit, wide eyes frozen on a trapdoor he never managed to open. There was iron scorched into the <

of truckers. Sam still talks about that like it was some grand moral failing. I call it survival.

We came back because a hunter named Ellis went quiet. One of Dad’s old drinking buddies from the "don't ask too many questions" files. Left us a voicemail that sounded half-drunk and half-terrified. <

remember the name of the town until Sam said it out loud. Cold Creek. Nothing special. Just another dot on a map where Dad dumped us for a few weeks back in ’93. One diner, one gas station, one sad little arcade where I taught a kid three years younger than me how to hustle quarters out <

** New Story incoming with @clownsrscarysw.bsky.social. Check it out. **

What We Bury

< Some places hit you before the Impala even rolls to a stop. Not with a memory... those you can brace for. But with a feeling. Like your bones recognize the land before your mind catches up.

I didn’t even <

- Camille O'Connell
- Not new to char 5yrs + as Camille
- Not new to rp or fandom.
- Ships W/ Chem
- Looking for detailed SL'S & banter
- MC MV 25 + Detailed/Literate
- NO DM RP's
- RT And Like

> Henrie Winchester
> Middle child of John & Mary
> Sister of Sam & Dean
> We have to save the world
> Hunters of Supernaturals
> Crossovers welcome
> No DM RP
> SL's and Banter
> 25 + Only
> Please Like & RT

♬ Ꮛɱ︎ɱ︎ყ ƇαƖƖ ♬
♪ Female AU of #EmbryCall
♩3rd In Command of The Black Pack
♪ Only Female in the pack
♩ Health Care Assistant, Musician
♪ Not #LifeAndDeathRP
♩ #TwilightRP #AU #MC #21+
♡︎ @behindmypack.bsky.social ’s Girlfriend!

Blackstar Archer.
The green arrow.
Felicity and Oliver's daughter.
Mia Smoak.

— NSFW in dms only
—Non/Lewd
—Mature Themes
—MS /MV.
—Story focused
—⚤ (no lean )
—drama denied
—-parody account
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

That doesn't sound like me... *side-eyes you and quietly unscrews my flask of holy water just in case I need it*

at him. “Hey. You sure you’re good? Not hunter-good. Not ‘fake it and keep moving’ good. I mean you good?” *

There’s something off about this place, deeper than the weird. The kind of “off” that gets under your nails and makes your stomach go quiet.

I set the cup down on the roof and reach for the trunk key. “Let’s suit up. Salt, silver, maybe a muzzle—just in case.”

Then I pause, look over my shoulder<

“Guy said his wife started barking like a dog, then chewed through a screen door & chased the mailman,” I say, glancing at Sam over the rim of my cup. “So either we’re dealing with a hellhound possession… or someone spiked the lemonade at the church potluck.”

I crack a grin, but it doesn’t stick. <

** Starter for @clownsrscarysw.bsky.social **

Motel coffee tastes like burnt regret.

I’m halfway through a cup anyway, leaning against the hood of the Impala while the sun fights through a fog that smells like sulfur and rotting corn. Welcome to Iowa. Population: cursed. <

“Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good…”

If something’s in the dark, I’m already hunting it.

No heaven in this story, just roads, regrets, and pie. Name’s Winchester. No miracles. Just a loaded trunk and Sam (@clownsrscarysw.bsky.social). smarter, taller, and still not driving.