Bobby Singer - Tumblr Posts

i think its so funny how like sam and dean and just hunters in general were so fucking sure that some things just didnt exist. idk if that makes sense but like

"i kill demons and ghosts and wendigos and things that go bump in the night and i Know theres a Hell but angels are NOT real!!" (then he gets fucked hard and raised from perdi-*GUNSHOTS*)

or like their first assumption being that dean was abducted by aliens and not fairies. like they were so sure that fairies, things with a fuckton of folklore and shit behind it, were not the culprit and considered aliens first.

like am i the only one who thinks that is SO funny

….still the best option. Just don’t leave it around where a Winchester can pick it up…

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Cas: *the kind of person to collect cool rocks*

Sam: *the kind of person to identify the rocks and their uses*

Dean: *the kind of person to throw said rocks at people*

Bobby: *the kind of person to sit back and watch the carnage*

On a trip with the boys

Part 2 of the new Supernatural Tarot Cards I was gifted. The amazing artwork is from Matthew Skiff. I love the simplistic color choices and how easily you can tell who everyone is from the first glance.

“So stay safe, keep fighting and kick it in the ass.”

- Bobby Singer, Supernatural S10:E17 “Inside Man”

And from the same episode:

Okay but can we talk about Bobby Singer for a minute?

It was made very clear in the beginning of his character development that he had once had a wonderful wife of which he loved dearly despite the fact that he killed her. Later it was kind of implied (maybe confirmed?) that he and Ellen had formed a relationship. When Dean meets up with Bobby again in the new and improved heaven, they are at the Roadhouse. Is this implying that Bobby’s heaven is with Ellen? Is this just a good meeting point for greeting Dean in the afterlife? Does he live nearby with his wife and just visit the old dive while killing time in the afterlife?

I guess what I’m really asking is what happened to his original wife? Because his whole backstory as a hunter revolves around her and I feel like that got forgotten and ignored like so many other things did during this finale

The writers of Supernatural Missed out on a BIG opportunity to have Dean try to raise Cass from the Empty the same way Cass had risen Dean from Hell all those ears ago.

Like, that would've been an insane parallel instead of the last two episodes of the show being wasted on shit that didn't amount to anything.

Besides, it's not like Dean COULDN'T raise Castiel from the empty, we've seen it Done in the show before by Nick with Lucifer. So the fact that the writers let that opportunity go to waste is a let down. Especially when it's later revealed to us through Bobby during episode 20 of season 15 that Jack had raised Castiel from the empty again anyway.

I love you

Dad!Bobby x reader

Summary: You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

a/n – Sorry, I really like angst fanfics! Hopefully I’ll be able to get part two to join the hunt out next week sometime, but bear with if not as I have a training course for work. Feedback appreciated :)

warnings – angst, demons, bleeding out, blood, blade.

word count: 1109 

You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

“Fuck!” You yelled. You had just finished the salt and burn, the grave glowing oranges and yellows, the ghost haunting and killing young children put to rest, when suddenly a sharp pain stabbed you in the side. You looked down, a blade was stuck in your side, it felt like poison was flooding your body, you could feel your t-shirt getting wet with blood. ‘Fuck! Why are hunts never so simple’ you thought to yourself, the pain becoming more and more unbearable, paralyzing even.

You coughed a little, blood splattering over your hand and dribbling down your face. The coughing moved the blade within you, and a new wave of pain rushed through your body. Whoever or what had gotten you was hidden in the darkness, but you could hear it, footsteps getting closer.

“My, my, my” A deep voice emerged, surrounding you, it sounded as if it was coming from all directions. The creature stepped out in front of you, in body clad in a black crisp suit, dark red splotches scatted on the material. Its hair was slicked back, styled smartly. It emerged from the shadows, into the slight light the salt and burn was casting, blue eyes, switching and turning black, the smell of sulphur and rotten eyes overpowering your senses.

The demon laughed, more like cackled as it walked towards you. If you weren’t incapacitated you would have fought back, but the searing pain froze you to the spot you were stood in. The vessel the demon was occupying was definitely attractive, but that didn’t matter. The demon got closer, until it was a few inches from your face, it grabbed at your face, leaning forward, inhaling your scent. “My, my, my” it repeated again, leaning in towards you, its hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“Who would have thought that I would get the jump on the infamous y/n Singer” it whispered, its voice sweet almost melodic, but the sinister undertone was still there. “I can’t wait to tell your dear old father” it continues, running a finger over your cheek, down to your side, where the hilt on the blade was sticking out of you. Its hand wrapped around it, wiggling it up and down, the pain surging again, as your knees weakened, and you collapsed to the floor with a gasp. The blade puncturing more of your insides as it stayed in the demon’s hand when you fell.

“Oh, yes!” it giggles manically, “I can’t wait to tell dear old daddy, but first you get to suffer” It kicked you in the side, dirt and mucked adding and mixing into your wound. It turned to look at you, smirking before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. You could feel the blood pouring out of your side faster than before, laying down you curled into a ball, trying to maintain body head. You could hardly feel your hands and feet by now, your body going into shock with the blood loss, but you willed yourself to dig around in your pocket, pulling out the phone, and calling the only man you had on speed dial.

The phone rings a few times, your close to giving up, conserving your energy, when a gruff voice finally answered.

“What have you done now, Idgit” The voice askes, the undertones soft and gentle, caring.

“Dad” you whisper, more blood pouring out of your mouth, you breath in shakily, pain rippling throughout you. “I need to visit you soon; it’s been too long” You try to keep your voice cheerful, not allow him to realise anything is wrong

“What’s wrong y/n” His voice is hard. Of course, you couldn’t fool your dad, of course the infamous Bobby Singer knew when something was wrong. The concern in his voice rolling in waves through the phone, you could imagine him now, standing in the yard, dark eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“Nothing’s wrong Dad” You squeak out, before a coughing fit overtakes your body, droplets of blood being expelled out of your mouth.

“That’s Bullshit, y/n!” He yells, dad could always tell when you were lying, but you ignored him, continuing with the story, that nothing was wrong.

“I just wanted to call you Dad, it’s been awhile s’all” You whisper, energy draining from your body quicker after you stopped coughing. Though a smile planted itself on your face, thinking of your father and the memories you had with him.

Bobby takes awhile to respond, you can imagine the cogs in his head turning, trying to figure out what was going on and how to help you. But you knew you weren’t long for this world, and you needed to tell him one last thing.

“Dad” you gasped, it was getting harder to breath, your eyesight had started going black around the rims, almost like those stylised photos you saw every so often.

“I love you Dad” Your energy was almost depleted now. Body cold and blue, most of your blood on the floor underneath you. Your ears had started ringing, your brain going foggy. Closing your eyes, it was easier to concentrate on your father’s comforting voice.

“Y/n! What is going on?” He yells down the phone, impatience and fear radiating from his voice.

“I love you Dad” You responded, a happy smile slipping over your face as you got to tell him something you didn’t say often. A hunter’s life was one of gore and hard-faced people, not a life full of lovey moments, though you wished you had said that you loved him more.

You couldn’t open your eyes anymore, eyelids to heavy to move. Your chest felt like the weigh of the world was rested upon it, organs shutting down one by one. Your heart slowing, trying to pump the last remaining blood around your system, your lungs hard inflating with much needed oxygen. It was your time. “I love you, Daddy.” You mustered up the last of your strength, taking the deepest breath you could, before repeating the three little words you wished you had told your father more. Your soul started to slip from your body, the ache in your side becoming more distant, your senses becoming numb, fading. Your dads voice distant, yelling and pleading your name over and over again like a broken record. You smiled as darkness encompassed you, your life slipping away, peace holding your hand as you crossed the line between life and death. Happy as you got to remind your dad that you loved him one last time.

---

Main master list 

I love you

Dad!Bobby x reader

Summary: You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

a/n – Sorry, I really like angst fanfics! Hopefully I’ll be able to get part two to join the hunt out next week sometime, but bear with if not as I have a training course for work. Feedback appreciated :)

warnings – angst, demons, bleeding out, blood, blade.

word count: 1109 

You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

“Fuck!” You yelled. You had just finished the salt and burn, the grave glowing oranges and yellows, the ghost haunting and killing young children put to rest, when suddenly a sharp pain stabbed you in the side. You looked down, a blade was stuck in your side, it felt like poison was flooding your body, you could feel your t-shirt getting wet with blood. ‘Fuck! Why are hunts never so simple’ you thought to yourself, the pain becoming more and more unbearable, paralyzing even.

You coughed a little, blood splattering over your hand and dribbling down your face. The coughing moved the blade within you, and a new wave of pain rushed through your body. Whoever or what had gotten you was hidden in the darkness, but you could hear it, footsteps getting closer.

Keep reading

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 [𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑] [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

First Supernatural fic! A little short (in my standards), may conjure up another part if it goes well. This takes place just shortly after Sam gets his soul back and he's still coping.

SUMMARY: Y/N is a well renowned hunter who keeps to herself. After losing her sister (among many other family members) during a hunt to a devastating monster, she locks herself in for good with nothing but rage pumping through her veins.

It's rumored she holds a weapon that, besides the colt, can kill anything. It's become a big deal in the past, many hunters trying to take it for themselves, only to be cursed, injured or even dead in the process. That was until it was revealed who had given it to Y/N.

What will happen when she runs into the Winchester brothers during a hunt for the very thing that has destroyed her family?

Written in third person, female!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Very novel-esque writing. i'm sorry. i got carried away

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 4,390

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

The forest lay draped in an eternal shroud of darkness, the silvery glow of the moon casting faint, ghostly beams that struggled to penetrate the dense web of ancient trees. The atmosphere was thick with an otherworldly chill, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Tall, gnarled trunks rose like skeletal sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens in silent supplication.

Eerie whispers, like faint echoes from another realm, seemed to drift on the breeze. Soft susurrations carried the promise of secrets, secrets that the forest had guarded for centuries. These spectral utterances mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint creaking of branches, creating a symphony of sound that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Amid this haunting tapestry of shadows and whispers, a lone figure moved with a desperate urgency. A slim young woman, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as her heart pounded in sync with the frantic rhythm of her footsteps. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with her every stride, her bare feet sore from each scratch and scrape from twigs, rocks and leaves underneath, each footfall a desperate plea for escape.

The forest's inhabitants—creatures of the night and unseen beings—watched from their hidden sanctuaries, their eyes glinting with a luminescence. Yet, none could compare to the ominous presence that stalked the innocent woman.

In the ethereal twilight, illusions took shape like phantoms conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind. The voices of fellow hunters, once allies and friends, one even her own older sister, twisted and distorted into a chorus of accusation and betrayal. Their spectral forms advanced with a relentless determination, a parade of torment born from her own insecurities.

"Disgusting!"

"You're not strong enough! You don't belong with us!"

"You never did!"

"YOU ONLY HOLD US BACK!"

Countless insults and howls, hurls of venom and anger were thrown at the woman. As she sprinted through the labyrinthine woods, the cacophony of voices swirled around her like a tempest. The shadows themselves seemed to coil and writhe, mirroring her inner turmoil. But amidst the maelstrom of chaos, one face emerged from the torment—Y/N.

Y/N's expression was a mosaic of sorrow and anger, anger for all of this to be happening, anger for her sister as this creature manipulates her. Her eyes twin beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness. "Emily, Emily!" The voice behind her cried, far different from the others, "It's not real! Fight it!"

Emily turned around to face the direction of her sister's yells, her body jerking slightly with her movement as she catches a glimpse of Y/N, running with her arm reaching out to her. Quickly, she turned back, hopping over a large boulder she would have tripped over. Panic pumped through her veins, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.

Amid the twisted labyrinth of trees, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she closed in on her sister. Her footsteps were swift and quick as if she drifted through the air, each one a prayer to reach Emily in time, to pull her back from the precipice of the consuming darkness. Emily's breath came in ragged gasps, her panicked sobs echoing like haunting melodies of a woman in white through the shadows drenching the forest.

"Emily! Emily, it's me!" Y/N yelled once more, a lifeline of vague comfort in the midst of it all. Her arms stretched out, fingers yearning to grasp onto the fleeting fabrics of the younger woman's clothing. Emily's movements were wild and uncontrolled, her form swaying as if caught in a cruel dance with harsh winds.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of the expression on the face of her other half. "Emily, please, look at me. You're not alone. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with a potent blend of fear and nausea, a plea for Emily to recognize how real she is and how fake everything else is.

Emily's cries were a symphony of agony, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. "Y/N, make it stop! Make it stop, please!" Her voice cracked. She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing Y/N's arm as if seeking refuge from the torment that consumed her.

Y/N's heart bled as she closed the final distance, her arms enfolding Emily in an embrace. She could feel the violent tremors that wracked her sister's body, the very essence of her being gripped by a bitter chill. "I'm here, Emily. I won't let it take you," Y/N whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against Emily's sweat-dampened forehead.

Yet, even as Y/N held onto her sister, a sinister current coursed through the air. The shadows seemed to thicken, a malevolent presence looming ever closer. Emily's cries escalated into agonized screams, her body convulsing with the force of the darkness that sought to claim her. Y/N's heart raced, every fiber of her being consumed by a profound and paralyzing fear.

As Emily's eyes met Y/N's, a chilling realization dawned – the vibrant blue that had once sparkled with life was fading, eclipsed by an encroaching grayness that spread like tendrils of frost. Y/N's grip tightened, her own voice trembling with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Emily, fight it! Hold on!"

Emily's voice wavered, words barely audible through the guttural moans that tore from her lips. "It's so cold, Y/N. Everything's so cold...so dark. Make it stop, please..." Her voice trailed off into a pained whimper, the shadows swallowing her words and leaving only the haunting echo of her suffering.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Emily's clammy skin, the chill of the shadows seeping into her very soul. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Y/N fought against the consuming void, her voice a soothing murmur. "I won't let it take you, dammit!" Anger boiled inside, "Get the hell off of her!"

Just as the darkness threatened to claim Emily completely, a distant rustling broke through the sound of struggle. Y/N's heart leaped as figures emerged from the shadows—the real, other hunters, their expressions etched with concern. They had followed Y/N's trail of yells and cries, arriving in the nick of time.

Y/N's voice trembled, a mild wave of relief as she sees the others. "Help her! We need to help her!" The hunters rushed forward, their hands reaching out to lend their strength. Together, they formed a shield against the darkness, a defiant stance against the malevolent force that sought to tear Emily from their grasp.

Emily's cries and convulsions intensified, her body wracked by spasms as the battle raged within her. Her hair was etched in a misty black, while her clothing was oozing with the same. Y/N's heart ached as she held onto her sister, her voice a fervent plea as she looked to the heavens. "Please, don't let her go! Not like this!" She sobbed. She held Emily tight, rocking her back and forth. She had lost so much, most of her family was already dead or turned. She'd barely consider other hunters as anything more than allies. She was terrified of becoming too attached.

And this is exactly why.

Silence. No movement, no cries, she didn't even breathe. Emily's petite figure went cold and limp in her big sister's arms, a shriek tearing through the cold air.

"EMILY!"

The veil of unconsciousness lifted, tearing Y/N from the depths of sleep into a realm of disorienting wakefulness. In an instant, her senses snapped to attention, an electric surge of panic and anxiety coursing through her veins. With a sudden jolt, she sat up, her chest heaving as if she had finished running a marathon. The room around her was shrouded in sunlight pooling in through the old vintage curtains.

A strangled cry forced itself through her lips, a raw and primal sound that echoed through the empty walls. It was a cry born of a terror she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blankets below her hands, huffing.

Heartbeats drummed in her ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her thoughts. The sweat-soaked tendrils of her hair clung to her forehead. She drew in ragged breaths, each inhalation a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the dream and the waking world.

Tears blurred her vision, the remnants of her subconscious torment mingling with the harsh reality of her surroundings. It took precious moments for the room to come into focus, the familiar contours of furniture and shadows coalescing into a semblance of order. Yet, even as the nightmare's grip loosened, a residual ache settled deep within her chest.

"Emily..." The word escaped her lips in a choked whisper, a tremor of grief lacing her voice. The name hung heavy in the air, a fragile thread connecting the terror of her dreams to the ache of her waking heart. She clung to the sheets as if they were a lifeline, her fingers curling into fists against the overwhelming flood of emotions.

With a final sigh, Y/N hunched over with her head down. Her eyes shut, a tear falling into her lap, the drop being absorbed by the thick comforter snug tight over her legs. 

Mornings were never easy for Y/N. Each new day dawned as a reminder of the relentless challenges she faced, a testament to her resilience in the face of an unforgiving life. Even on her days off, a lingering unease nestled itself within the corners of her mind, stuck unto the wonders of impending danger. The cocoon of security she had woven around herself provided a shield, but it could never quite dispel the remaining possibility of danger.

She went about her normal daily routine. Eat, bathe, study—it was a day-today cycle she'd repeat without fail. The steady rhythm of these activities became her anchor, a lifeline that kept her tethered to a semblance of normalcy she lacked during her teen hood.

The simple act of nourishing herself felt like a small victory. The warm water during her shower offered a brief reprieve, a blanket of warmth throughout her entire figure. It was possibly the only place she could ever truly let her guard down—ignoring the many knives and handguns tucked away in every corner and crevice. And when she immersed herself in her studies of the unknown, her mind was at ease, eager to learn more like an intelligent child at their elite school.

She'd decided to take a bath that morning. The sound of the faucet turning on was a familiar symphony, the rushing of water a comforting melody that eased her eardrums. The room soon filled with the gentle hiss and gurgle of water as it flowed, a lullaby of sorts to her senses.

As steam gradually wafted through the air, tendrils of warmth caressed her skin. With each passing second, the room transformed into a retreat, the steam swirling like ethereal wisps that danced in the air. She undressed with a easeful grace, each garment slipping off her body and pooling onto the floor in a crumpled heap. The clothing, once a shield against the world's harshness, now lay forgotten as Y/N stepped out of its confines. The act of disrobing was more than a physical shedding; it was a ritualistic release, a shedding of layers that went beyond mere fabric. Each piece of clothing fell away, like a separate piece of heavy armor.

With a swift step, Y/N stepped into the tub. The warm water greeted her like an old friend, pooling around her calves. A sigh escaped her lips as she settled into the depths, the water rising to envelop her in its comforting embrace. Her mind was clouded with bliss, the weight of the stress not yet touching her core.

The water cocooned her body, its warmth seeping into her very bones as she closed her eyes. With each breath, she felt herself surrendering to the serenity of the moment, the rhythmic ebb and flow of her surroundings lulling her into a state of an addictive detachment.

The world beyond the bathroom door seemed distant, the sounds of the day muffled by the sanctuary she had created.

With ease, her fingers trailed along her arms, the soft glide of her touch a soothing ritual that whispered of self-care. The steam-kissed air enveloped her, carrying with it the subtle scent of her favorite from the bath salts that had dissolved into the water. As she reclined against the porcelain expanse, her muscles gradually surrendered their tension, each fiber yielding to the tender persuasion of the tranquil waters.

Slowly, Y/N's legs found themselves lifting, her knees bending as she settled into the contours of the tub. Her feet, once grounded on the porcelain floor, now found their resting place on the opposite end. The gentle swish of water accompanied her movements, a loving chorus that serenaded her senses.

Closing her eyes once more, Y/N let her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her mind now ebbed and flowed like the gentle ripples that lapped against her skin. The warmth enveloped her limbs, cradling each contour similar to her mother cradling her very essence in her tender hold from when she was a young child.

Her fingers dipped below the surface, the gentle tug of water playing a delicate dance with her touch. She traced the outlines of her own hands, the pathways of her palms etching stories of resilience and strength from each hunt, each death and heartbreak. The subtle currents tugged at her fingers, a gentle reminder that life was ever-present, a force that moved in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Minutes slipped through her grasp like grains of sand, a fluid passage of time that seemed to stretch and contract with each breath. Y/N allowed herself to linger in the embrace of the bath, the world beyond the bathroom door fading into the periphery as the symphony of her senses took center stage.

As the soft glow of midday sunlight danced through the window, casting a warm embrace upon the room, Y/N's attention gravitated towards the sprawling tome that lay open before her. However, the once discerning gaze of the seasoned hunter seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of printed words that now merged into an abstract mosaic, their essence slipping through the sieve of her distracted thoughts. Within the confines of her mind, conflicting currents clashed - the steadfast determination that usually defined her, and an unsettling undercurrent of restless uncertainty.

Amidst the encroaching mental haze, a sharp ring pierced the air, jolting Y/N from her reverie. Swift and purposeful, she retrieved the phone and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking from the startling event. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end carried an air of authority, a trusted hunter's tone that brooked no pleasantries. "Y/N," the voice began, a solemn cadence that bore the weight of urgency. "Got a case for you."

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the open book, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the pages, a rhythmic dance of distraction. "Mirian," she acknowledged, a blend of reverence and intrigue imbued in her tone. The name held weight, signifying that when the hunter spoke, it was time to heed.

"There've been incidents," the hunter continued, unfolding a tale of unsettling attacks that painted a somber tableau. "Looks like the Chimera's up to its old tricks again."

A shiver coursed through Y/N's spine, a subtle reaction that betrayed the gravity of the name. Memories of past encounters surged forth like specters, a haunting tapestry of battles fought and won against this formidable adversary. Especially Emily's death. Mirian’s words wove a narrative of danger and enigma, a reminder of the stakes at play.

Her responses remained poised, a veneer of calm that masked the storm beneath. "I understand," she murmured, her gaze breaking free from the book to meet the world outside the window. "And where did everything taken place?"

Location after location was recited by the older hunter, each name etching a somber mark on the canvas of Y/N's consciousness. She absorbed the information with a hunter's precision, each detail a clue to decipher, a thread to weave into a strategy. As the conversation progressed, an immediate plan unfurled in her mind, a mosaic of tactics and resolve that began to map out her forthcoming endeavors.

"Understood," Y/N finally affirmed, her voice a testament to her unwavering commitment to the task ahead. "I'll take it from here."

The unknown hunter's approval resonated through the line, a nod of satisfaction that lingered in the air. "Good. Other hunters are staying away from this one. Leaving it to you. Be vigilant, Y/N. Take it down for good."

The call ended, leaving Y/N alone with her ruminations once more. Her gaze returned to the open book, yet now, the printed words seemed to regain their clarity, each letter a beacon guiding her purpose. With a heavy sigh, Y/N shut the book, standing herself tall. Her gaze settled on the ancient leather-bound tome, its pages brimming with secrets of old, a knowledge bank she had accumulated over the years. With a decisive nod, she turned away, her steps carrying her towards the intricately carved wooden desk where her arsenal awaited.

Quickly, Y/N began to gather her essentials. She retrieved a leather-bound notebook, its pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams of past encounters. A sense of reverence accompanied each turn of the pages, a reminder of the blood swear and tears put into every hunt. Beside it lay an assortment of vials, each containing concoctions brewed from rare ingredients, tailored to counteract the unique attributes of queer entities.

Her attention shifted to the polished surface of the desk, where an array of weapons gleamed in the subdued light. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife, its blade etched with protective runes to enhance its efficacy. A revolver lay nearby, silver bullets meticulously loaded.

Yet, the centerpiece of her arsenal rested against the desk's corner—a sickle of exquisite craftsmanship. The black handle was adorned with intricate patterns and symbols, a labyrinth of gold engravings that seemed to dance in the faint light. The handle fit perfectly in her hand, a natural extension of her unequaled wrath. The blade itself gleamed wickedly, a crescent moon of lethal sharpness. Its edge bore the scars of countless battles, slick and sharp—a gift from Death himself.

As Y/N lifted the sickle, a surge of familiarity coursed through her veins. This weapon was an extension of her identity, a manifestation of the strength and purpose that had driven her. Its weight was comforting, grounding her in the face of vengeful intent.

With her arsenal gathered, Y/N slung the duffel over her shoulder and made her way to the doorway. As her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, her gaze flickered to a small weapon hanging by the frame. It was a talismanic blade, a last resort concealed within easy reach. The hilt bore sigils of protection, a final safeguard against unexpected threats.

The weight of the sickle at her side was a reminder of her internal hatred, a beacon of hope to finally destroy this Chimera once and for all. Y/N stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby's house exuded a sense of warmth and home, its well-worn interior serving as a refuge for the trio of hunters seeking respite from the world outside. The worn leather armchairs bore the marks of countless conversations and the shelves lining the walls were crammed with dusty books, relics of knowledge accumulated over decades of hunting. The air was tinged with the aroma of brewing coffee, a constant companion in the dimly lit haven.

Bobby sat hunched over his desk, his calloused fingers deftly dialing a number on his phone. The room seemed to hold its breath as the line connected, and he brought the receiver to his ear. His gruff voice echoed through the room as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

"Hey there, it's Bobby Singer. Listen, I've been hearin' about some strange happenings over in Pinehaven. Yeah, it's that little town off County Road 9. There've been a series of deaths – odd ones. People droppin' dead with no explanation, like they just gave up the ghost." Bobby's brows furrowed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing increasingly grim.

Sam and Dean Winchester exchanged wary glances, their senses heightened by the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the room. They leaned in, their attention fully captivated by Bobby's conversation.

"You don't say... Well, that sounds like a real mess. Yeah, it's been goin' on for a few weeks now. The victims – they're different ages, different backgrounds. Ain't nothin' connectin' 'em on the surface. And here's the kicker – their bodies are all found with these... bizarre markings carved into 'em. Like some sort of symbol."

Bobby's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and intrigue as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, I know it sounds like some pagan ritual, but that's where it gets even weirder. There's nothin' in any lore I've come across that matches these symbols. It's like some new kind of nasty is in town."

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "So, what's our next move, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Sam and Dean before turning his attention back to the call, hanging up. "Look, I've tried gettin' some hunters interested in checkin' it out, but they're all keepin' their distance. Say it's too risky. Hell, even Garth – and you know he's usually up for a wild goose chase – turned it down."

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Well, Garth's got a point. But if it's got you scratching your head, Bobby, it's definitely worth a look."

Bobby nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "Damn right, it is. I've got a bad feelin' about this one. We'll head over to Pinehaven, check out the crime scenes, see if we can find any leads."

Sam and Dean exchanged a nod. "You think it could be witches?" Sam asks.

Bobby scratched his scruffy beard in thought, his expression contemplative. "Could be, given the nature of the attacks and the symbols that've been showin' up around town. But we won't jump to conclusions just yet. Gotta gather more information before we start pointin' fingers."

Dean's lips curled into a half-smile, "Well, you know us, Bobby. We're always up for a good ol' witch hunt."

Bobby chuckled, a gruff sound that held a warm combination of amusement and fondness. "Just make sure you don't stir up trouble before you've got solid evidence. Last thing we need is a town full of pitchfork-wielding locals."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We'll be careful, Bobby. Promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bobby clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, gather your gear and hit the road. I'll keep diggin' on my end, see if I can find any lore or references that might give us a clue."

Dean couldn't help but interject with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Bobby, remember that time in Oklahoma when you tried to use a hex bag and ended up with green hair?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he shot a pointed glare at Dean. "Oh, don't you start with that again, boy. You two idjits were laughin' your heads off, like a couple of hyenas."

Sam smirked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Come on, Bobby, you gotta admit, you rocked that look."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Just make sure you boys pack some extra salt. We're dealin' with somethin' that's givin' hunters the heebie-jeebies."

With a shared glance, the two stood, their resolve strengthened. As they gathered their gear and headed for the door, Bobby's voice carried after them, a stern warning. "And no more hex bags, you hear me?"

The echoes of their laughter lingered in the air as they shut the door. As Sam and Dean made their way toward the sleek black Impala, the gravel crunching under their boots, Sam couldn't help but break the silence.

"You really think this case is the real deal? Witches? Haven't seen any Pagan witches lately."

Dean slid his hands into his jacket pockets, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "Bobby seems to think so. And you know how he is with research."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you're right."

Dean's expression turned more serious as he locked eyes with his brother. "Just gotta stay sharp, Sammy. If this thing's as nasty as Bobby says, we need to be on our A-game."

Sam's gaze held a mixture of determination and concern. "I know, Dean. But something just doesn't feel right. If a bunch of hunters won't go near that thing, it can't be a witch. They woulda already tackled it by now."

Dean's jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again. "Yeah, I noticed that too. It's like everyone's walking on eggshells. We'll keep digging. But first, let's focus on finding out what's behind all these deaths and disappearances."

As they slid into the Impala's front seats, the engine roared to life with a familiar rumble. The brothers shared a determined glance before Dean put the car in gear.

My personal thoughts on Supernatural so far as a newcomer (spoilers!):

Season One: Fun! Nice, simple story, nice introduction to this world, it's good.

Season Two: Pretty good season. Some of storylines I feel like could've been longer, like the brothers dealing with their father's death and Azazel bringing Sam and the other powered humans together. Overall, I liked it. Ellen and Jo were badass, the adventures got better and more interesting compared to the first season, and it was all around more fun.

Season Three: Personally, this season was honestly not as memorable compared to the others that I've watched. It's definitely not bad, it has some cool stuff. I thought Ruby & Bela were cool, the entire "Mystery Spot" episode was one of the best episodes of the show, and Dean's fear of going to Hell was a tear-jerking storyline. I just didn't find most of it to be memorable.

Season Four: I still regard the angels as the coolest supernatural creatures. You see so many different personalities, different views, they're alot of fun. The storyline with Sam's addiction to demon blood was engaging and led to some good drama, I love Chuck the Prophet, and of course, Castiel's storyline about self-doubt and loyalty is awesome (still love that guy!)

Season Five: The theme of this season is very engaging, discussing the idea of free-will and whether or not we are tied to fate or if we create our own destinies. The return of the trickster, the introduction to probably one of the coolest interpretations of Lucifer, and the grand climax, it's a lot of fun.

Season Six: I'm split on this one. On the one hand, many of the plotlines go nowhere (Dean finally finds a family to be with, you don't see them for most of the season. Samuel returns & they found out they have family, they go away anticlimactically. The mother of all monsters appears, barely does anything.) However, it's still pretty fun and I was still entertained, Castiel's turn to the dark side, the return of Crowley, and the discussion of God & free-will being the best parts of the season. I guess it's stupid but alot of fun.

Season Seven: I like to think that this was the perfect mix of silly humor, adventure, and drama. The Leviathans are cool, Bobby's storyline is both awesome and depressing, Sam and Lucifer's storyline are both horrifying, sad, and hilarious. It was a really good season (though I wish leviathan!Cas stuck around!)

JOHN, MARY AND BOBBY!!! i adore bobby look at him oh my god

Decided that even tho Sammy is the "oddd one out" in their family, hes still a unicorn like mary and john, where as dean, while he is the perfect little brainwashed son and hunter, hes an earth pony which causes resentment on johns behalf. His "good" son isnt a unicorn, while his "bad" son is. Mwahahah angst >:) once again @chxrrylungs is the inspo!! GO CHECK OUT THEIR ART!!! ITS LITERALLY AMAZING OH MY GAWDDD

Sooo... @chxrrylungs inspired me to draw Sam, Dean and Cas as ponies...

HEAD EMPTY ONLY SPN PONIES RAUGHHH

These two frames were shown right after each other. Love the symmetry. The more I look at it, the more similarities I find ! Two many to mention tbh. I don’t believe any of this is unplanned. This cinematic of this show is incredible. 

Happy Mother’s Day! - or happy parental appreciation day 🌻💚

I know it’s not the same date all around the world but here we go :)

It’s as good as any day to give your loved ones a call ✨ have a fantastic Sunday 🐝

Things that totally happened on Supernatural: (10x17 - “Inside Man”)

GO MY CHILDREN. ASK AWAY

Dearest Tumblrs!

My arrival on Tumblr has raised a few questions like, “Misha, what the hell?” and “Crap. Should I just delete my blog now?”

In order to address these pressing concerns, I’m doing an Answer Time tomorrow (6/13) right here at 4:00 pm PT/7:00 pm ET.

See you at the rendezvous.

-Misha

Can we just

Top ships 💘💗💕💋💍

Can we just

Top ships 💘💗💕💋💍