Stranger Things
The Stonewall Inn
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EXPECTATIONS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
cherry valley forever
Today's Document
shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
will byers stan first human second
One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH
Love Begins
Game of Thrones Daily
Product Placement
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@justdelivers
#𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. independent & selective blog for SAM PORTER BRIDGES from Death Stranding, featuring an assortment of alternate verses. 𝟐𝟎+ 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀. — as written by Grandpa ( they/them ). est. 2019. low activity. personals dni. › expanding the network with: @m0naghan + @ca1amities
𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 ; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 . ( a series of kiss prompts . some nsfw material present . )
❛ 01 . a kiss to say hello . ❛ 02 . a kiss for the first time . ❛ 03 . a kiss after a long time apart . ❛ 04 . a kiss to apologize . ❛ 05 . a kiss to forgive . ❛ 06 . a kiss during a fight . ❛ 07 . a kiss to say what you can’t say aloud . ❛ 08 . a kiss in secret / a forbidden kiss . ❛ 09 . a kiss to prove a point . ❛ 10 . a kiss against a wall . ❛ 11 . a kiss on a rooftop . ❛ 12 . a kiss that seals a marriage . ❛ 13 . a kiss before one goes away . ❛ 14 . a kiss in the shower . ❛ 15 . a kiss that comes out of nowhere . ❛ 16 . a kiss first thing in the morning . ❛ 17 . a kiss last thing at night . ❛ 18 . a kiss during combat . ❛ 19 . a kiss during a fake relationship . ❛ 20 . a kiss out of desperation . ❛ 21 . a kiss on the cheek . ❛ 22 . a kiss on the forehead . ❛ 23 . a kiss on the back of the hand . ❛ 24 . a kiss on the neck . ❛ 25 . a kiss on the fingertips . ❛ 26 . a kiss on the stomach . ❛ 27 . a kiss to end the sexual tension . ❛ 28 . a kiss over a scar . ❛ 29 . a kiss over a wound . ❛ 30 . a kiss to say goodbye .
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"
Good morning pookies ily all and hope you've been well
"Mhm." It was a simple, quiet response. A hum of a focused man as he tended to the dark swelling around his eye first and foremost. Cleaning away bits of blood and debris carefully. Ice packs might would reduce some of the swelling, numb the pain for now. It'd be hurting tomorrow. Neil knew that much.
"Someone always has something to say about me Sam, being the ex-corpo dog and all." Neil took the lighter from his partner's shaking hand. Flicking the flame to life and holding it steady beneath the end of his smoke till it glowed faintly with embers. Pocketing the lighter he reached out to gently tilt his chip skyward, Examining the split on his lip. Despite what transpired inside, the merc smiled. Charmed by the protective nature Sam has when it came to him. Came to them. "Easy, caro... forget about him. Let's get out of here. Go ice that shiner and clean that lip."
The glowing flame before him gave him something to focus on, a means to breathe when the air in his lungs grew tight. The post-fight adrenaline that began to subside, leaving him with nothing but pain and a burning rage that still lingered beneath the surface. Hot coals, or embers down within, always ready to fight for those he cared for most- and these days it was he alone who took that place in his heart. His lover, his partner, his everything, sitting before him, tending to his wounds with a sense of calm he couldn’t understand. Shouldn’t he be mad? To know his reputation was on the line?
The cigarette would hang from his lips, tucked into the corner of his mouth while he was set on examining the extent of his damage. Sore to the touch, but he’d do his best not to flinch, even if his eyes stung and his nose ran, he’d let out a soft sniffle as his eyes would shift toward the ground. “Doesn’t mean we have to put up with it. It’s our reputation on the line- where you came from isn’t anyone's business…”
Like a dog, he’d tuck his metaphorical tail for the time being, following his lead, even if it meant swallowing his pride and heading home. Hands would dig into his pockets, nursing the smoke between his lips before he’d speak. “Digging up dirt on other mercs, makes no sense. Who gives a fuck if someone was a corpo dog, or some nomad in the middle of nowhere. Why they’d be so eager to dig up your dirt, I have no idea… It just didn’t settle right with me. Not about to let them run their mouths, especially with your name on their tongues.” Already his jaw began to ache, the taste of copper and tobacco lingering between his teeth. “Still think we should kick their asses-”
who is gonna run full force into sam's arms so he can catch them without hesitation or issue because they weigh nothing to him.
"you're capable of sitting still, aren't you? not much of an artist like my parents, but I do wanna make sure this looks half decent." Hey
@peintson
“Good luck with that- you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
In truth, sitting still wasn’t the problem. The man was built to endure the roughest of conditions, a weapon sent on this expedition with intent. If he had to fight, he’d fight- if he was forced to jump, he’d go however high. This though? Was something else completely. Something that should have been as simple as breathing, but then again, he was far from any normal man. Such luxuries back home were not something he often dabbled in- where most would find passions in their practiced portraits- he was one that usually fell as a backdrop, a shadow within the paintings of day to day life. Never had he seen himself as something worth painting, not a muse, or a subject to find interesting at all. Yet here he was, determined to leave some mark that he existed on this canvas at all. When he was long gone, maybe this tiny piece of him would remain. And to be made by him? To be loved by his hands was a far greater gift than he could ever put into words.
It was why, despite his comment, he’d make no effort to move. Doing as he’d say, any request of his often met, even if he had to downplay his pleasure in doing so. Vulnerable for him and him alone- weapons and gear set aside- the loose ruffled collar giving way to painted scarred flesh beneath. Impurities for something like a canvas, a painter's worst nightmare, he’d imagine. Why his gaze would remain downcast, locks half shrouding his face as he was uncertain of the pose he desired. Warmth began to spread through him, feeling the gaze of the other upon him. Why he’d adjust his chin slightly, raising his downcast hues just enough to look his way for approval.
“You sure you want this? Plenty of others in the group to ask... It's not too late to change your mind, you know.”
Thinking about how strong Sam is, how much he endures, the things he carries, the mountains he climbs. How by nature one might expect him to naturally be rough, to have such strength and not realize it. Yet somehow Sam is capable of being so tender, so careful with his touch when it comes to his lover, trying to preserve his hands and wear gloves often to ensure they aren't rough enough to hurt his lover. The man works hard but loves his partner even harder when given the chance. Also he'd give good back rubs.
@ca1amities
“He hit like a bitch.” How quick he was to try and make a point, speaking in such a matter-of-fact tone, despite the blood that began to pool around the skin of his eye. Swollen, the bruising only getting worse by the minute, and despite the blood that began to dry upon his bottom lip, he’d pop a cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he’d speak.
“Dude thinks he's tight with our fixer, heard him talking shit about you, saying he wants to steal this gig out from under us. Fuck that.” Adrenaline still had him wired, antsy, hands trembling as he’d try to light his cigarette. “No one fucks with you- no one fucks with us- I’ll go right back in there and make sure he spends the night with Trauma Team-”
SHE ALMOST WHACKED HIM for talking about settling the score and paying her back for cleaning up a simple cut. She hadn't done it because she wanted, or even needed, anything in return. She had simply done it because he was there. Because it was right. Because he deserved care too after all he did for the world and the DHV. He deserved so much more than he was being offered and if she could knock some sense into that head of his, she would very much like to.
However, it wouldn't be very nice to hit someone that was so tired, nor someone who was already injured. Instead, she settled for a huff in his direction, pale eyes narrowing a little, hands on her hips as she wagged a finger at him sternly, making sure to get her point across, even as he stood taller than her.
“ You don't owe me anything - ” she said determinedly, voice steady for once as she scolded the poor man.
Ignoring the way her own cheeks burned when he said he was here for her. He probably said that for lots of people - she had to try hard not to read into it. At least, not too much.
“ W-We're all friends here! Co-workers! It's o-only right we look after each other! ” she insisted, fussing a little as she did so, checking him over while he stood up, making sure there were no other obvious injuries.
She was sure there were lots of hidden ones. Blisters, bruises, a whole plethora of colors mapped across his skin from the various terrains and things he had gone through to do his latest job. But there didn't seem to be any noticible blood at least - so she would allow him to care for the rest on his own. She wasn't about to ask him to strip after all - that would be too much at the moment.
“ B-But anyway! ” she began, trying to derail her own train of thoughts.
“ Go take a shower, you need it, ” she joked, giving him another bright smile after her little scolding.
“ M-Maybe once you're clean I'll let you cook for me sometime anyway, just ‘cause it’s an honor to hang out with me, um, obviously - ” she joked again, though it came out a little awkward and uncomfortable on her lips, but she wanted to lighten the mood.
Also cooked food did sound delicious.
The girl was selfless, so eager to put others' needs before her very own. He knew well from experience where that could lead, being stretched too thin, never expecting a thing in return. He wouldn’t allow it, not if he had a say in it. The last thing he’d ever want is for her to end up just like him. Battered and bruised, a broken and lonely porter, the man who delivers- and hardly more than that. She had years ahead of her to become something better, give back to the world in a way less demanding on body and soul. And if he could help lighten that load? He’d do anything in his power to see it come true.
“Thanks.” Simple, but he meant it, a brief flicker of a smile touching his lips before he’d nod. “Yeah? Guess I gotta work for your presence, huh?” He too could return such playful banter, even if he was hardly good at telling jokes, or teasing for that matter. “I’ll get cleaned up- maybe later you can meet up, and I’ll hold my end of the bargain. If you’re willing to try whatever I can manage to cook up on this boat.” Truth be told he didn’t spend much time in the living quarters, so fickle and fleeting, he hardly put much time into seeing what the Magellan had to offer. He’d have to do his research, or come up with something to make on the spot- and with his track record of feeding Lou, he wasn’t all that good at guessing what foods went together. His biggest critic was also the smallest, once upon a time.
"I'll see you later- and thanks again."
Shoes would scuff along the metal floor, dragging his weary body from her room. Despite his aches and pains, his body felt light, that smile never seeming to fade, even as he made his way down to his own cabin. Shower- then food- What would she like? What does she like? The thought of what to do already lingering in his mind, something he'd mull over once in the shower, kicking himself internally all the while. He probably should have asked. With luck, she wouldn’t be too picky when the time came to impress.
@justdelivers sent: He’s short, stocky, but the biggest mistake was anyone ever underestimating his strength. Stubborn, this man would move in front of the other, giving him a moment of eye contact before arms would slip around his waist. Crazy, maybe, but he was determined. A soft grunt would escape him, bracing himself to try and lift the other off the floor for a time. Head pressed to his chest for support, he’d take slow and careful steps, shuffling to the nearest place to sit just to prove a point. Wasn’t much, but he could get him where he needed to go. A hand would press to his chest, before gesturing to the seat behind him. “C’mon- you think I can’t handle you?” His tone was playful, a smile threatening to show as he’d take his wrist, falling into the seat with the hope that he’d follow his lead. “You think you’d break me? Nah- take a seat.” Not on the couch, but his lap, more specifically. A single pat to the thigh proving just how serious he was. If he was too much? He’d deal with it- but he wasn’t about to be a coward. Even he deserved to feel small sometimes.
"I don't know if you could handle it." He waved Sam off for the moment with the stone hand... and then Sam all but dead lifted him off the ground by the waist. Woah, okay this is happening, was going through his mind as HB's arms lifted up to try to balance himself while Sam literally carried him over to the nearest seating area just to prove a point. He wasn't expecting Sam to take him up on it, nor was he expecting him to literally sit on down on the chair and pat his lap. "You sure about this, pal?" There's only the slightest hint of amusement, but he was all for it- if Sam thinks he could handle it, let him try.
"You think you'd break me? Nah- Take a seat."
Alright buddy.
He shrugged his broad shoulders and took him up on the offer. Stone hand hooked behind Sam's shoulders for balance before he all but eased his weight onto the smaller man's lap. There's a bit of complaint from the chair beneath them at the sudden weight of a 300 pound half-demon being added to it, but after a few moments of adjustment, everything seemed fine. For once, HB wasn't the one doing the lifting, he indeed did feel a little small, and small felt good for a change. He could get used to it. Golden hues peered down at the source of the lap he sat on before checking in.
"You alright down there, big guy?"
To anyone else it may have been a death wish, then again, when it came to him, he really didn’t have anything to fear. If anything, it was more of a quick respite, hardly more than an inconvenience for a man who couldn't die. Why he couldn’t help but crack a grin as he’d approach, the sheer weight of the other being enough to break the average man. Thankfully he wasn’t any normal man. His body was built to endure, to withstand such strain, and even as the chair creaked and groaned, his eyes remained fixed on the other with determination. The realization began to hit when the numbness began to set in, instinctually grabbing at his thighs, as if he could lift him to adjust himself comfortably beneath him.
“Shit-” Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, his forehead making contact with his barrel chest, attempting to hook his arms around his legs to make an effort to move him. Still nothing. He’d silently accept his fate, knowing it was what he asked for, so he couldn’t bring himself to complain in the slightest.
“I’m alive, which is probably more than most could say.” His attempt at a terrible joke, playfully prodding him where he could. “Should have bet on it- because I’m handling better than most would. Do you feel like a princess yet? Spoiled on your throne?” The man was a brick wall, and from the view below, was enough to make a wave of heat wash over him- quickly attempting to downplay it as he’d lean back in the seat, accepting his place beneath him. “Have to admit, the view isn’t that bad. Guess I could get used to a view like this- not that I really have a say in it.”
a small nod at sam's statement, fragile choosing to believe what he says rather than second guess and mull over words longer than necessary - she trusts sam will be always honest with her, this topic being no different than any other before. "i know, it's just ..." frustrated sigh pushes past lips, uneasy about pointing out how it's not gone unnoticed how they both tend to overdo and pretend it doesn't burn them out in the long run. whatever piece she needs to say is promptly shoved aside when he kisses her knuckles, gaze softening at acts of gentleness so foreign.
"it's crazy out there," she says eventually, shoulders dropping some as hands find sam's again. truth is, fragile couldn't imagine a world where sam is not part of her life anymore - she tried to for a while, and it made her miserable to say the least; and sure, sam's abilities might be an adavantage compared to others, but that doesn't make it watching him leave every time any easier. "i might have underestimated how hard this would have been."
her dad had that way of making this lifelong mission feel so light, the man seemed to be filled with so much hope for the future from an outside perspective - now fragile can't help but wonder if he felt the same way whenever she wasn't looking. "i'd like to spend more time with you," she confesses then, fully aware of how detrimental that would be for their mission ... still. maybe she could join sometime, for deliveries close to base. "awake, preferably." not that she minds their poor excuse of a nap they call sleeping.
“Tell me about it- but I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine.” Endure, that’s all he ever seemed to do, so accustomed to hardship, it was almost all he ever knew. Some days were harder than others, it was true, but returning to those who cared for him lightened the load, more than he’d ever care to admit. She too had her fair share of struggles, and it was she who somehow still managed a brave face, despite it all. If she could endure, so could he, and he would, just to make it back to her time and time again.
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You could always give me orders to stay aboard the ship- or sneak off with me, let Tarman cruise around for a while.” They could hold down the fort, but then again, he didn’t want to force her out into the harsh conditions of Australia just to spend time with him. “Not to deliver, maybe just to take a break. Fresh air- maybe hit up a hot spring. I’m not about to force you to lug around cargo for my sake.” Thumb would brush idly over her knuckles, admiring the softness of her skin, taking note some time ago how the rain had reversed the damage Higgs had done. Thankful they could wash away some of the marks he’d left behind.
His eyes would shift to the room around them, taking in her quarters, the little trinkets and items that lay scattered about. A direct reflection of her, taking note of the pictures of her and her family beside her bed. Quietly he’d guide her, finding their place beside the bed, where he’d lower himself to sit, with the hope that she’d follow. A gentle look of admiration reflected in his gaze, a smile solidifying it all the more. “C’mere-”
SAM'S TIMING COULD BE BETTER; Heartman practically bounces out of his room (having only a few minutes before returning to the beach) when he hears heavy boots against the metal floors of the Magellan, dragging Deadman behind himself. His hands reach forwards for the package a little impatiently, until he suddenly remembers his manners and withdraws just an inch. "It's always a treat to see such a vintage make its way safely into my hands."
Politely, he brings his arms out to receive it, a little more decorum than before but his smile says everything. One must begin to wonder [ ONE MINUTE REMAINING ] how on Earth (or any planet, really) Heartman still has all the space for his collection onboard a ship with such small cabins (and then, one must deduce that a major factor in convincing him aboard was the promise of a cabin suited to such needs).
"You know, I've been searching for this particular album for years now. And to find out it had somehow made its way all the way here, to Australia--" One could say his eyes had started sparkling, if they hadn't gone completely white before regaining a different hue altogether. With a few blinks, Deadman's expression sours. "Ah. What a shame. He would have loved opening it himself. I was told it was still in its original packaging, too."
@justdelivers
There was never a dull moment when it came to boarding the Magellan. Even if he’d never admit it aloud, the hollow halls and cabins off the ship began to feel like a home he longed to return to. It was a welcome change, to be wanted, needed by those aboard the ship, bringing back supplies when needed to make sure everyone was content on board. Why he wasn’t surprised to hear movement, the moment the doors hissed open on the elevator, turning the corner to be met by a familiar face.
“Got back as quick as I could-” but clearly it wasn’t quick enough. The one minute warning between them was enough to have his own heart jump, quickly reaching into his pack from over his shoulder to present the metallic case the contents were stored within. Yet it seemed he was never quick enough, watching how in an instant, the once eager Heartman quickly shifted into the warmth and familiarity that could only be from Deadman. Lips would press into a tight line, as if saying sorry to the man who was now wandering the beach. “Guess you can surprise him with it when he gets back, better late than never, right?” Carefully the case was offered to the other, eyes flickering to the contents, before meeting his gaze once more.
“You ever listened to this stuff? Is it any good? I kind of miss having records of my own- collected a few back home to play for Lou…” A memory he didn’t care to dwell on for long, a hand instinctively shifting to the pod against his chest. “Is Heartman starting a collection or something? Didn’t think he’d have the space-” Then again, he’d never spent much time prodding around the ship apart from his own, cramped room. “Wouldn’t mind looking through it sometime, if you think he’d let me.”
Lockne wasn't exactly sure why she hadn't been expecting Sam to simply drop everything to come visit. Perhaps it was the years of self isolation and quiet abandonment from family and friends after Målingen's accident, the severity of which she had never truly known until it was too late. All she had was her work. That's all she was.
Even after reuniting with Målingen and being bound to her, merged with her, it was hard to shake old perceptions of herself. No matter how hard Målingen tried to convince her otherwise.
She was largely left alone with her thoughts in recent days, with her sister exploring the Beaches as often as she could, alongside Heartman. A new adventure every day, and she always had fascinating things to tell Lockne when she followed their Bond home. In spite of feeling closer to her than ever, Lockne frequently felt painfully alone. Unimportant to the rest of the world, unless she was needed for some new code or system rewrite or if her hands were needed to work on Målingen's projects. Most of the time that was fine. She liked being useful. It kept her mind occupied.
But it was lonely. One might've thought she'd gotten used to lonely.
A quiet chime from her (Målingen's) cufflink indicated Sam's arrival; in spite of the rings, she always felt reluctant to completely throw the cufflink away as "obsolete". Her heart tightened in her chest, though it was always hard to tell when it was her reaction or her sister's. Who could really say? Regardless, she was happy, excited even, that someone they had both grown to care for was visiting.
Had he arrived so soon, or had time slipped by her again?
Staying clear of the holo-projector, she began speaking as soon as she heard Sam's voice; she was a bit of a mess, dressed in Målingen's slightly-too-loose clothes instead of her own, barefoot, her hair only barely pulled back, and Målingen's glasses set atop her head for safekeeping. Definitely not her usual put-together self she liked to portray.
"Sam! Come on in. I'm opening the elevator door for you, off to your left. I'm down in the safehouse. It'll be just us for a while, so come on in and make yourself at home."
@justdelivers | ref
The hiss of the automatic door would be enough indication on where he needed to go. The sound of his climbing boots would echo against the hollowed shell of the building, finding his place within the elevator before he was quick to snap shut. Straps were adjusted on his aching shoulders, a hand brushing over the scruff on his face. With luck, he didn’t look too bad- all things considered, given his line of work. Some days were worse than others, but thankfully he wasn’t soaked in tar, blood, or both- so with luck she wouldn’t be too off put by his appearance.
A few moments would pass, and soon enough the door would open to the living quarters beneath the shelter. The air was cleaner, filtered, the walls and floor spotless and shining. Spending so much time in the wild almost made him forget what it was like within civilized spaces. At times it made him nervous, the concept of seeing people- but she was different- her presence was one he longed for. All fears and doubts that may have stirred inside were quickly extinguished, the moment he’d enter her private space. How long had it been since he’d seen her? A year? More? Time felt like an eternity anymore, days long and strenuous when he was left alone. Yet in a moment, none of that mattered, seeing her stand there before him.
There was something akin to butterflies that struck him, his heart rate jumping, seeing her dressed so comfortable. Had he come by when she didn’t anticipate him? Time often escaped him when he was alone. Either way- it wasn’t an unwelcome sight, in fact, she was something to admire. She was human, and in a way that was so rarely seen these days. To think, only a short time ago he was just the same, living a casual, domestic life, free from worry apart from how to feed his kid. With luck, she’d found such peace in her own life, allowing herself a chance to live, even after her sister was long gone. Both of them had suffered with loss, and it was only fair that people like them could feel peace.
A smile would touch his lips, relief to see her alive and well. It was rare that emotions got the better of him, but how he couldn’t help but close that space between them, half tempted to drag her into a hug as he stood before her. What to say? What to do? His mind raced with a million things, yet the words escaped him before he had much time to think at all. “You look good.” Healthy, happy, the things he wished most for her in their time apart. “Hope you haven’t been working too hard- hopefully no one has been giving you trouble since I’ve been gone.” It was something unspoken, that protective nature he’d felt for both her, and her sister. Ready to fight for her at a moment's notice, do whatever was needed to ensure she was content and safe. “How you been holding up?”
coming to a tumblr near you: the amazing dynamic of verso dessendre and sam porter bridges @justdelivers
sam and verso are about to be such a good pair i love them sm.
Let it be known that Sam showing trust and love, a form of love language, would be him eating the leftovers off his lover's plate. The man is capable of being a bottomless pit, so take him on a date he's the guy that will gladly eat off the plate across from him so long as it's allowed.
Verse: Hellboy
Much like the other verses I’ve established for Sam, I try to keep some general outline of his original story within each universe. That being said, there will be some things that are different for the sake of not completely torturing Sam.
Sam’s parents died at a very young age, and to keep a similar timeline, I would assume it would be under a secret government organization run by Bridget. Bridget herself would still stay the same, an extinction entity who, after being responsible for the deaths of Sam and his parents on an expedition, takes on the responsibility to adopt Sam out of an act of compassion. Sam, being young, doesn’t remember his death, but in that act of being sent to the afterlife, gained occult powers and was rendered incapable of death. Heaven nor hell would take his soul- thus turning him immortal. Upon death, his soul will remain in limbo until able to return- souls ushering him back to the land of the living. In doing so, they leave their mark upon him, phantom prints like those that are seen within his regular verse.
Sam doesn’t discover this talent until some years later. With his mom being a part of the government, Sam feels obligated to serve and support. Sam, since death at a young age, has had a connection to the other side. Sam has Clairaudience / Clairsentience, as well as being a Medium to the other side. Because of this, Sam struggled making connections growing up, seeing and sensing the dead with little to no understanding from those around him (similar to his DOOMS.) Once he reached a certain age, however, the reality of why he experienced these things became real to him. Sent out on a job, Sam got caught in the crossfire of a shootout and was announced dead on the scene of the job. Since Sam had not crossed over to the other side since he was young, an extensive period of time was needed before he returned to the land of the living. When he awoke, Sam found himself on the table of a morgue, his body healed, but it was clear to him how long he had died for. Autopsy scars had rapidly sealed, as the mortician stood horrified at the job that was cut short. Sam was a living dead man, who quickly grabbed his things and went home.
Because of this, Sam was quickly transferred to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, having to learn how to manage moving through the world as his clairvoyance only became worse from there. Sam became a field agent, and his powers in speaking to the dead and being granted visions of death became useful at crime scenes and investigations. Spirits will often offer insight and visions of the last moment of death, getting a brief perspective of those who were murdered, trying to point him in the right direction to help. This frequent connection to the dead leaves Sam hesitant to touch, since spirits will often touch, grab, pull him, and leave their mark on him. Sam is also very cold to the touch by nature, feeling like a corpse as he can die and return to life. It’s only those he has a close connection to that he allows physical touch, and will enjoy being warm in the presence of the right person. Sam’s personality is more outgoing in this verse depending on who he works with, feeling more comfortable with other paranormal or supernatural beings, as he has a closer connection with those who can understand him. Sam also has a soft spot for animals, and if living within the Bureau, would consider having a cat. Sam smokes regularly in this verse as well, seeing how he assumes his body can’t rot or die off, so in a way it’s almost punishment alongside addiction.
In terms of combat Sam is capable of using most regular weapons, guns, knives, and often will practice close quarters combat and lift weights to keep his strength up. He doesn’t like being poked and prodded at by doctors, but it’s inevitable given where he works. He often also struggles with wanting to drop off the radar, leaving the work behind to fade away- but his past always seems to haunt him, and he can’t ever truly get away.
