violnts

[violnts]

  𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑     𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ     𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖾     ﹠      𝖾𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗍         :      

@moorlight      /        cullen  matriarch  considers  it  both  blessing  and  curse  alike  to  enter  their  home  to  silence.   it's  a  rare  thing,    for  so  rarely  has  one  of  their  houses  been  devoid  of  one  or  another  of  her  children  for  longer  than  a  few  days  time.    she's  often  grateful  for  the  quiet,    grateful  for  it  allowing  for  her  to  complete  paperwork  and  lesson  plans  -  but  just  not  she's  all  the  more  pleased  to  see  at  least  one  of  her  children  around.      “      emmett.    ”    she  greets,    pressing  a  kiss  to  the  top  of  his  head  as  she  leans  down.    “      i  have  some  exciting  news,    i  think.    the  forecast  this  morning  called  for  a  storm  next  week.    if  aysel  concurs,    i  thought  it  could  be  nice  to  play  a  game  then - for old time's sake.     ”

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“      not  joking.   -    cross  my  heart.     ”     with  a  pretty  little  human  for  mayor  ⸻  all  that  would  left  was  to  get  one  of  the  more  self-starter  types  to  possess  him.    not  a  bad  plan,    that.    unless  she  planned  wrong  and  got  stuck  with  one  of  the  more  political  ones.    no  need  for  a  wannabe  king  of  hell  when  their  father  returned.     “      and  which,    kissing  or  killing  ?    'cause  honestly  i  think  that's  all  dependant  on  who  you're  asking.     ” 

" you might be joking, but i'll seriously do it. " jason smiled a bit to himself, but then straightened out his back so he could be taken more seriously. he could be the people's mayor. even if he didn't win the election. " doesn't that release some good hormones or something ? it could work for the better. "

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“      dean   ⸻  that's  your  brother,  right  ?     ”     brother,    partner  in  crime,    general  pain  in  her  ass  even  before  she's  met  him.    she's  done  her  research.    or,    rather  ⸻  the  winchesters  are  famous  enough  in  hell  circles  to  require  no  more  than  a  few  questions  asked.   still,    it's  not  like  she  hasn't  been  studying  them  for  months.    but  dean  ?    him  she  doesn't  care  about,    not  really.    no,    it's  azazel's  little  soldier  she  wants.    the  would  be  abel,    the  need  be  cain.    when  the  time  comes,    she'll  swear  she  doesn't  mean  to  lie  to  him  -  swear  it  was  all  through  fear  of  how  he'd  react  if  he  discovered  the  truth.    if  he  turns  on  her  as  quickly  as  her  eyes  turn  to  black.  she'll  offer  a  well-crafted  sob  story  about  a  demon  who  wants  to  do  good  ⸻  to  be  better  ⸻  and  use  her  knife's  abilities  as  leverage.    “      and  don't  sweat  it  ⸻  next  time,    then.    even  if  something  tells  me  you'll  play  dirty  again.    ”    words  carry  a  lascivious  note  as  she  smiles  right  back.    there  will  be  a  next  time  -  she'll  make  certain  of  it.    “      do  you  hustle  all  the  girls  at  pool,    sam  ?    or  was  i  just  special  ?     ”

Seems mundane here among the crowd that haven’t seen the hellmouth.     He feels old here.    Aged beyond his years     —     growth upon his stomach like that of a leeched trauma.     Some inherited curse of the ancestors he had never met,    yet here he wears their skin like a plain thief.     (    And where is the son that John had left?     Certainly not with you.    You’re too pigheaded,   remember?    What the fuck is there to be proud of now?     )     Seems about right.    He’s sitting next to a beautiful woman and John is wriggling around in his brain.      Worm-rot of the century.        “Hey,   we do what we can.     I’m just hanging in there    [ … ]    for Dean.”       A dry swallow    —    shit,    was he talking too much?       He’s nodding along to her update,    enjoying how it feels to be a part of this crowd,     rather than swimming against the current.     A neutral thorn in the side,   rather than the infected one.      “If you want higher stakes,    you should try to beat me in another game of pool.”       A tease,    mildly flirtatious,    half-grin following the challenge.    He knew she’d bite it.     That side of her that wanted to prove herself as well     —    something he easily could relate to.       “No pool tables here,   though.    I guess you’re safe.”

[violnts]

*recognizes that im feeling geniuine human emotion* ok, troubling

[violnts]

               #   𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒏𝒕𝒔   :      private   blog   for   dependent   muse(s)   :         𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘺  as   written   for   fangstv   studying   the   concepts   of   :    𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 ; 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 - 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 ; 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 . if not a member of fangstv do not interact.

ruby, threads.

[violnts]

“      maybe  you  should  run  then.    ”    demon  suggests,    and  she's  nearly  serious.    it  would  be  amusing,     for  a  minute  at  least    -    to  have  the  townsfolk  led  by  someone  whose  big  wish  was  that  people  made  out  more.    “      that  could  be  your  platform    -    no  killing,    lots  of  kissing.    ”

location : bellefleur's bar & gril

" y'know, people would be much happier if they just made out every now and then. i don't understand the big deal about all of this. " jason took his cold beer and took a quick swig out of it. he looked like he was lost in thought for nearly half a minute before turning to the other person. " how hard is it to be a mayor that doesn't kill people? even i could do that. "

[violnts]

“      i  can  imagine.    hotel  rooms  don't  exactly  make  for  homey  spaces,    sam.     ”      but  then,    nor  do  the  pastels  her  meat  suit  had  thought  best  suited  her  apartment  -  pink  plush  pillows,    lavender  shag  rugs  and  old  cheer  uniforms.    it's  just  short  of  being  straight  out  of  hello  kitty's  wet  dream  -  and  yet  enough  that  she  can't  wait  to  burn  it  to  the  ground.    not  exactly  the  best  way  to  get  a  hunter's  trust  though,    that.    even  if  it  would  allow  them  a  great  sob  story.    stolen  eyes  turn  from  where  they'd  been  falsely  watching  the  game  to  focus  on  the  younger  winchester.      “      but no. not  by  a  long  shot,    our  star  player's  already  been  benched.     ”      at  least,    she  think's  he's  the  star  player.    the  crowd  had  certainly  cheered  him  hard  enough.      “      but  that  just  raises  the  stakes.     ”

*    ◟ @violnts

It was a brief introduction    —     the brothers had only just arrived in Chance Harbor from being on the road for a full day.    She attends the local university.     Studious,    had a spark in her eyes that classified her as a tad mischievous which in all honesty was refreshing.       Jess’ face,    however,   remains latched in his mind.     A haunting static screen of replay after replay,    it left him nauseous.     Unsettled.     Sam left behind death    —   what was different about this woman’s fate?      Not one to allow himself to feel out of place or without confidence,    he takes the empty seat beside her.     A hockey game,    innocent enough.    Dean thinks he’s at some cafe.     Knew that if he said anything about keeping company with a local   —    one who he had been flirting with just days ago    —    he’d be parked outside ready to intercept.         “Thanks for the invite,   again.     I needed to get out of the hotel room.”     A breathy chuckle,    hand brushing through his hair as he shoves his other inside the pocket of his coat.      “Are we winning?”

[violnts]

#𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, #𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉, #𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌

one:   𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤   𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

birth   name:   𝖴𝖭𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶𝖭.   alias(s):   ruby, ruby ramos.   age:   twenty6.   gender:   demi   woman.   pronouns:   she   /   they.   orientation:   bisexual   /   biromantic.   species:   human ( formerly ), black eyed demon.   loyalties:   to herself & lilith & lucifer.   

two:   𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴.

unwavering  loyalty  to  the  unseen  -  the  humans  might  have  their  gods  but  so  too  do  you  -  and  your  faith  requires  sacrifices  ;   carefully  avoiding  the  truth  behind  well  crafted  lies  and  saccharine  smiles  ;  lipstick  stains  the  corners  of  lips  before  blood  is  spilt ; eyes  of  night  reveal  the  truth  of  your  soul  -  shattered  and  sold  as  it  had  been  so  long  ago.

three:   𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

then,

if  asked  -  you  would  answer  no,  no  you  don't  remember  much  of  what  It  means  you  to  be  human.  it  was  too  long  ago,  and  a  year  on  earth  is  far  from  equal  to  the  time  in  hell.  what  you  do  remember  is  chanting,  praying  to  an  uncaring  god,  and  the  burning  of  the  plagued  all  around  you.  it's  not  much  -  but  it's  enough  to  know  you  do  not  miss  it.  there's  power  now,  that  even  in  humanity  -  even  in  witchcraft  -  you  could  not  find.  

throughout  hell,  there  is  a  voice  in  your  head  that  continues  to  cry  out  for  more.  you  possess  greater  cunning  than  most  demons of  your  kind,  and  with  it  you  hold  so  much  potential.  it's  noticed  -  and  along  with  the  voice  comes  another.  this  one  agrees  with  your  boasting  -  declares  you  could  be  more  -  if  only  you  did  something  more.  what  would  thoust  give?  it  asks,  to  become  more  than  you  are.  anything,  you  reply.  and  so  it  begins.

now,

ruby  ramos  is  a  college  student  -  a  transfer  student  from  straight  across  the  country.  her  parents  died  years  ago  -  leaving  her  with  few  loved  ones  to  look  for  her.  she's  ripe  for  the  taking  for  you  when  the  time  comes  for  a  new  vessel,  and  how  you  thrive  with  her.  she's  a  pretty  think,  draws  attention  but  not  too  much.  the  perfect  honey  to  lure  in  the  flies  and  bears  alike. a carefully laid trap designed with a single target in mind - but you are too soon, for no righteous man has yet shed blood - instead you linger in sight, watching and waiting and drawing in your prey with saccharine smiles and words of comfort. your  knife  never  leaves  your  side  -  a  gift  from  she  who  you  are  most  loyal  to  -  until  the  time  comes  you  will  need  to  use  it.

[violnts]

KYLIE VERZOSA via tiktok

[violnts]

Don’t talk about your illness. Men hate that. Cleo from 5 to 7 (Cléo de 5 à 7) 1962, dir. Agnès Varda