♛ a little bit cursed ;

0 deaths | 0 executions | 0 kills you and me, we're all that's left. so if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together.

[aubreyplcza-deactivated20160107]

Season 1 Sam + Smiling for eleventhbowtie

[templarsalad]

[exaggerated fart noises]

[feandra]

9 seasons of Sam Winchester being a little brother, supporter and friend

[feandra]

Happy Birthday, yaelstiel! ♥

[vanaiza-deactivated20201025]

The Boy King

The Righteous Man

Angel of the Lord

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

✩ || ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ sᴛᴀʀ || ✩

     In retrospect, maybe his choice of potion wasn't quite the best. He'd been, in all honesty, too deep in thought about his choices to fully understand the extend of the possible transformations. So while he selected the vial labeled with 'angel potion' in delicate handwriting, he hadn't yet realized that he wouldn't have the effects he was hoping for. Angels back home were next to omnipotent. If he were to become one, even for just a limited amount of time, he could simply teleport himself and Dean back home and they would never have to think of this school again.

     That was all the encouragement Sam needed to down the liquid in a matter of seconds.

     The change felt almost instantaneous. The moment Sam pulled the empty vial away from his lips, he could feel the potion pumping through his bloodstream, altering not only his body but his soul as well. A few seconds more and the potion became excruciating; his veins feeling as his liquid fire pumped through them and his skin was boiling. There was an oh so familiar (and painfully loud) ringing in his ears and a blinding light he could see now matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut. With the overwhelming sights and sounds, it was no surprise Sam didn't even notice the guttural scream of pain that ripped itself from his throat.

     And just as quickly as it had began, it all stopped-- the sudden silence was almost painful in comparison. His arms, his legs, his whole body trembled with something like relief or fear or... power. Perhaps he wasn't stronger at all, perhaps the potion had done nothing but offer the experience of being possessed by an angel and a sudden change in ego. But oh, did he feel fantastic. Sam stretched out his hands, feeling nothing but strength in the small motions of his wrists and fingers. Then his shoulders, and with a tilt of his head to each side he cracked his neck. Ah, and of course he couldn't forget the new additions to his back. While not visible to the human eye, the mangled and ragged shadows would follow him whenever he chose to stretch his wings.

     Perhaps he'd forgotten the more powerful of the angels to possess his body in the past. But the overwhelming feeling of finally being confined to a human form that didn't strain under his sheer power was more than enough to jog his memory; and maybe not in the most righteous of ways.

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

they saw that blood on your ( h a l o )

[ebonyguts]

Send me questions about my character's series

[roguetype]

{ closed } yer a winchester, roxy

      this place was fufu lame as hell. there was a part of you that knew there was a good chance that you would never make it out of sburb alive. you chose not to face it but that nagging fear was always there, regardless. now you were stranded in the middle of fuck knows what ocean alive and well, ready to be served up for murder, again. some things just never changed no matter what. apparently, your life was never going to be safe and being alive was more of a luxury than an actual given.

     lucky for you this whole cycle of kicking the bucket over and over again was old news. it was almost like traveling from one game to another but for the most part the same rules applied. you had gone from rogue of void to shsl hacker in 5 seconds flat and today you were actually staying true to your title. you had taken various programing books from the library to brush up on your basics. a computer would have been preferable to the old fashioned text but most people knew it was nearly impossible to get your hands on such a device.

     over the span of an hour you had created quite the spread of information across a very colorful towel. you had tried to work in the library but the bloodstained carpets were enough for you to consider relocating. the shade of a palm tree had been inviting and it helped that the beach was nearly empty. unfortunately, it was quite a breezy day and one gust of wind was enough to send loose papers flying. you jump up to retrieve what had been swept away but are met with an individual who had been very literally hit with your information. an abnormally tall student was now standing before you with a ripped page skewing his vision.

     "they never told me there were giraffes on this island." the wind stopped as you peeled the page away from the stranger’s face and you couldn’t say you were unhappy with what you were met with. "a handsome giraffe, though."

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

     Sam didn't spend his time at the beach very often. He wasn't much for swimming or sunbathing, so really, on the off chance that he was there, he was probably just out for a walk. Hunting didn't give the Winchesters a whole lot of free time (especially when they could spend it at a beach) so the younger spent his time outside simply taking in the sights. So the fact that he should completely miss seeing a girl not only reading on the beach, but chasing after loose papers as well was hardly a surprise. In fact, he only realized the presence of someone else when the loose page was pulled from his face before he could do it himself.

     His gaze met with that of a girl considerably shorter than himself (and probably younger too; who wasn't on this island?). He gave a small smile, opting to offer up an apology and be on his way again, but his eye caught the words on the page and the titles of the books on what was supposedly her towel not far away. Various books on progamming sat on the fabric-- some titles even Sam himself had had the time to read or heard Charlie mention once or twice. He rarely used computers for anything other than research, but needless to say nowadays back home hacking and programming was becoming more and more useful.

     "Yeah, I, uh, get that more than you might think." That and moose, of course. He spoke absentmindedly, disregarding her 'handsome' comment as he pulled his gaze away from the books behind her. "You're into programming, huh?" He gestured to the books, casting a quick glance that way as well. Again, Sam gave her a smile, although this was much more genuine. Dean could call him a nerd all he liked, he was happy to stumble across someone with some of the same interests as himself.

     "I'm guessing if you're at this school you're not just picking it up for fun." Even if the books did seem to cover mostly just the basics. "Hard to keep up a hacking hobby in a place where there's no computers. I'm not sure there'd be internet even if we had any, though." His eyes widened a bit as he realized he hadn't yet introduced himself and in an instant he had extended one hand for a handshake. "Sorry about that. I'm Sam-... Winchester." His own name felt foreign on his tongue after years of different aliases. However, with his distinctive look, there wasn't much use in lying about his name anymore. Plenty of people knew who he was without even having met him.

[intheshadowofdamnation]

When you’ve been trapped on an island for months on end, a man really learns to look on the bright side of things. Sure, people were getting wasted left and right. Sure, the two people he considered family had brutally murdered people and gotten executed for their actions. But at least the cabins were always warm. Too bad that seemed to be doing little for him today, bundled up under his covers yet still shivering cold.

Swollen throat made each thick swallow painful. Like a trail of breadcrumbs in a children’s fairy tale, piles of discarded tissues and snotty, wadded toilet paper littered every inch of the room he’d visited. All across the sink in the bathroom, on the floor by the table, on the nightstand by his bed. Sam and Cas were going to have fun cleaning up that mess; Dean’s entire body felt weighed down by lead— there was no way in Hell he was moving from this bed any time soon.

Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been this ill, but one thing was certain: being sick sucked shit. It wouldn’t be long before he stirred from uneasy slumber to find he’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep without even removing his shoes… not to mention the thin trail of drool trickling from open mouth.

That Dean Winchester had always been a charmer.

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

     Dean had made his younger brother aware of his illness long before it had even set in. Now that they weren't on a hunt all the time, they had the spare time to notice a bit of a stuffed nose or the occasional sore throat. And Dean, being the whiner he was, had made Sam overly aware of every little ailment he felt, followed by 'I think I'm comin' down with something'. So when the younger brother walked through the door, cutting off his own sentence at the sight of the mess scattered about the room, he wasn't particularly surprised.

     Sam watched with a grossed out look as the older rolled over in his sleep, revealing his pillow and the drool/snot/other fluids leaving it soaked. Oh yeah, Sam was never washing his sheets with Dean's after this. He stepped carefully around the tissues on the floor with occasional cringes as if he was avoiding landmines. It wasn't long until he was standing at his brother's bedside, permanent marker in hand that he retrieved from a short detour over to the room's desk.

     Gripping the lid between his teeth and the marker in his hand, he leaned over to the only space on Dean's face that wasn't covered in miscellaneous fluids. He had to write quickly, but the letters G O O B E R were unmistakable in the bold black marker on the older brother's forehead. Sam glanced over his shoulder to the door before quickly putting the cap back on the marker and tossing it over to the desk. He figured Dean would stir from his sleep soon enough, and sat back on his own bed to untie and remove his boots (which he did as slowly and casually as possible).

     It was absolutely justified revenge for 'peeboy'.

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

♬ + ♮

♬ - a song that reminds me of an event in my muse’s life, past, present or future

switzerland - bison (on the road with dean between hunts)

oh switzerlandi never thought i'd have you as a friendi'm praying it was not at all pretendi need you nowto help pick me up from off the ground

♮ - a song, album or artist that i listen to while writing for my muse

the moss - cosmo sheldrake 

but have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moonor the cow who hopped the planets while straddling a spoonor she who leapt up mountains while whistling up a tuneand swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom

[goredemo-blog]

SEND ME ONE OF THE FOLLOWING FOR AN ANSWER.

♪ a song that reminds me / fits my muse. ♩ a song that reminds me of your muse. ♫ a song that reminds me of one of my muse’s relationships ( state whom ). ♬ a song that reminds me of an event in my muse’s life, past, present or future. ♭ a song that my muse would listen to. ♯ my muse’s favourite song. ♮ a song, album or artist that i listen to while writing for my muse.

[spngifsets]

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

{ ooc: woops, i've been super inactive here lately since school's started again and all that. but i'll be trying to get back into the rp groove now that i've gotten all settled in!! }

[tinymanwithflute]

So get this, I'm not a Djinn | Aladdin+Sam

     His footsteps are soft, nimble as he maneuvers around. Perhaps he’s more cautious, as if he’s unaware of what he was doing, or why he was doing it. Aladdin didn’t have fear, or at least he thought he did. He was told that after he died, during their trial they had found the one who killed him. That helped to bring back some of his memories, but his island life still was fuzzy and he feared it may never become clear.

     Sam Winchester. He knew him, not well, but he knew him enough to feel bad. He was Dean Winchesters younger brother, the man Dean spoke of with such adoration that Aladdin was almost jealous. He’d never share such a bond with anyone by blood, no matter the bonds he created he’d never attain such like they had.

     Aladdin did not resent him. For anything. Not even for killing him. It was a mistake, and even then he could be considered a monster. A magician with exceptional powers he may be, but that does not ignore the fact that he’s supposed to be dead. Not even before he came to the island, he was supposed to be dead long ago but thanks to his mothers magic had he been saved.

     Not that he liked that he was saved.

     Sam was not hard to miss, he was tall and he had hair that needed a trim. Aladdin stood there, watching him silently, his breath bated. "Sam?" Aladdin asked eventually, his voice not nearly as sound as he intended it to be. There was nothing to fear, he was there and there was no way he would hurt him again. "I wanted to see the face of the one who killed me." 

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

     Sam's execution wasn't the most painful thing he had experienced since arriving on the island; not by a long shot. He considered his mistake to be a far sharper pain to his chest. He had spend the majority of his life hunting down all those nasty things that go 'bump' in the night, and one of the times it truly mattered most, he made a huge oversight. Only looking back on it did he truly acknowledge the flaws in his thinking.

     Sam had always been the more empathetic in his family; the odd one out. He always thought himself to have far more mercy and understanding than both his father and brother. However, after a short time on the island, he had already proved himself a hypocrite. So much of his life was spent making mistakes and preaching that it's your choices that make you a monster. no one's born that way. And how could he possibly justify that speech now, having killed an innocent child simply because he considered him a monster?

     The boy was far too easily recognizable. With both his vibrant hair and tiny stature, there was no mistaking him. Sam swallowed thickly as the boy spoke, his throat already growing dry with nervousness. It wasn't every day that he had to face someone he killed -especially when they knew he was their killer- and having to face an innocent victim was still a difficult task for the Winchester.

     "Aladdin." The word was little more than a meek croak. Sam looked to the ground for a moment, using the period of silence to clear his throat. "So... they told you, huh?" He paused for another beat as he looked up the small distance needed to make eye contact with the boy. "Look, I'm not going to try and justify what I did. It was wrong and I deserved an execution, really. And I... I'm sorry, Aladdin. It shouldn't mean much to you, but I wanted you to know that this whole thing is my fault. I made a mistake and I shouldn't have killed you for it."

[imperatrixing-deactivated202111]

Morrigan isn’t one to return things she borrows.

In fact, it would be more accurate to say she has never borrowed anything in her life, asides from books at the very least; people always wish to give her things… So the fact that the coat hung over her shoulders is merely being ‘borrowed’ almost makes her laugh.

And a chuckle does escape her lips as she catches sight of the man who gave her the coat in question simply wandering around the hotel. With a smirk, she practically skips silently over to the male, drawing up her thin hands behind him and placing them gently over his eyes. "Guess who~"

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

     It wasn't difficult for Sam to work out just who was standing beside him. Nevermind the sultry tone of voice, the slender fingers covering his eyes were a much more dead giveaway. He knew few females on the island, and only one of them was likely to put her hands on him, let alone speak to him in a voice that was little different than a beckoning purr.

     Sam briefly considered her lucky, seeing as she had snuck up on him. Sure, he had still jumped when she placed her hands over his eyes, but he hadn't turned to attack her (although after seeing her beat his brother at arm-wrestling, he wasn't confident he could do too much damage). Still, he made sure to take caution in grabbing her wrists to pulls her hands away. "Morrigan."

     "You're not really, you know, all that hard to recognize." He shot a small smile over his shoulder, not quite turned around yet. But once he was, he spoke a little more freely. "So, do you need something? You might wanna try the kitchen if you're looking for Dean. He's never been the best chef but believe me, he'll take any chance he can get for a home-cooked meal."

[troubledidiots-blog]

                                                      ℕo sleep,                                                  ℕo nightmares.

[inthelightofsalvation-blog]

△ Has there ever been a moment where attaining power meant going against your morals?

     "Not at the time, but... Yeah. Drinking all that demon blood meant I could stop Lilith-- or, I guess, I thought it would. I could exorcise demons and the person they were possessing would have a good shot at surviving. Hell, I could wipe out demons without hardly lifting a finger... But it was just wrong, you know? I was turning myself into a freak, a monster, for no reason. And sometimes... I still wanna drink it. It was so easy. To just have that much power, so accessible..." He pauses for a good couple breaths. "...An eight, by the way. I guess that's an eight."