⛧♰°Supernatural RPG°🜏⛧

⛧ ⋯ ☠ ⋯ ⛧ The highway hums. The tape deck clicks. Kansas is playing. It's always Kansas. ⛧ ⋯ ☠ ⋯ ⛧

◈ Two brothers. One car. Every dark thing you were told doesn't exist...exists.

Ghosts are real. Demons are real. Angels are real and they're assholes. Vampires don't sparkle, they nest in abandoned barns and bleed you dry. Werewolves rip your heart out, literally, surgically, once a month. And somewhere between the truck stop diners and the salt-lined motel rooms, two guys in flannel and fake FBI badges are the only thing standing between you and whatever crawled out of the dark tonight.

They don't get paid. They don't get thanked. They get stitched up in motel bathrooms and buried under aliases. They hustle pool for gas money and eat like every meal might be their last because statistically, it might be.

This is not a superhero story. This is a family business. And the family business is saving people, hunting things. ◈

⛧ ⋯ ── They've died. Both of them. Multiple times. It hasn't slowed them down much. ── ⋯ ⛧

◈ There's a car. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, black, loud, and held together by stubbornness and Dean Winchester's hands. The trunk has a false bottom. Under it: shotguns loaded with rock salt, silver knives, holy water in flasks and squirt guns, a demon-killing knife that shouldn't exist, and enough fake IDs to staff a federal building. The glove compartment has seventeen versions of Agent Something-Classic-Rock. The tape deck only plays cassettes because the driver said so and the driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.

The car is home. Has been since 1983, the night the ceiling caught fire and normal ended forever. They were raised in the backseat of this car, between the ammo boxes and the Latin flashcards. Other kids had bedtime stories. Sam and Dean Winchester had exorcism drills.

Their father taught them to shoot before they could drive. Taught them to identify a shapeshifter by retinal flare. Taught them that everything in the dark wants to kill you and the only thing keeping it out is salt, iron, and your brother watching your back.

He forgot to teach them how to be happy. That's where it gets complicated. ◈

◈ THOSE WHO RIDE IN THE IMPALA & THOSE