and duct-taped.

[safetypinned]

PSYCHIC: sī-kik. (noun) a person who is sensitive to nonphysical or supernatural forces and influences. often possesses strange mental powers and abilities such as the ability to predict the future, to know what other people are thinking, or to receive messages from dead people. often marked by extraordinary or mysterious sensitivity, perception, or understanding. SAM WINCHESTER! from supernatural. divergent. kripke 1-6 focused. highly selective. mutuals only. private.HEAVY & TRIGGERING THEMES. 25+ ONLY. guarded by: dixon.

important links! rules. divergence. memes. verses. headcanons. sam's playlist. mirror. musings. board. off-dash. g.c. extended nav. coming soon!

in the drivers seat! (heavily affiliated) @qapsiel , @trickheaven , @bansheeslain , @avaspn , @cainevesson , @eladead , @fallenangelwings / @nichtsehen , @chyremn , @thewiickedones hunting partners! (affiliated) @cursedhunting , @crispyblonde the library! (mains) coming soon! message to be added!

the family business! (exclusives) @cainevesson , @eladead what i wouldn't do for you! (ship exclusives) @eladead

where can you find me? @bloodsalted - dean winchester! @garglemyballsack - soldier boy!

[faithwounded]

"Is that the tall one? It is the tall one!" Cocksure grin spreads across features, tugging cheeks into a grin he has been told is handsome. And his ego has delightedly embraced. "That means you're the younger one. Oh, and no older brother? Just between us, you do have the prettier smile."

"How do I know you? Sweetheart, you're famous. And I'm at least halfway good at my job when I want to be. Plus, ya know, everyone else is running away from the grave, you're the only one heading toward it" Hedge shrugs, the expression landing somewhere between the most obvious thing in the world, and an extreme lack of bother about the whole situation. "Seemed a safe bet."

"Forgive me," tone of someone who is aware of social graces only to flout them, "I have you at a disadvantage - and not the fun kind. Name's Hedge. Friendly, house-trained and good with strangers. Do require regular exercise, or I may chew the furniture."

Posture remains relaxed as though his skeleton has relinquished control of his stability to the gravestone. Despite the apparent lack of concern in his tone, the image is deliberately crafted. Hopes the nonthreatening posture will buy him long enough to talk his way into survival when the hunter either identifies him as a demon, or he's forced to out himself.

[safetypinned]

okay. so logically, the guy's on point. what makes sam do a double take after computing the reasons why he's immediately recognized is the whole you're famous bit. fuck. okay. that can go two ways. either indifference or what did my dad do to piss you off or make you hate us all? cause lately? that's about the only two options he's ever seen in the wake of someone recognizing his last name and connecting it to his family. nevermind the faint warmth on his cheeks at being called sweetheart. totally not there. totally not a little awkward about it cause.. not many people call him that. well, many, outside women who want to come up and pinch his cheeks and give them a shake back and forth.

add that to the prettier smile comment? don't think he missed it. he didn't. sam figures they might be on the good side of this guy. better than indifferent. definitely better than having a gun swung in his face the second his last name hits the air.

a sharp laugh chases the introduction. twin rows of white teeth bare in the ear to ear smile. "please. i wouldn't put any furniture in the places we stay anywhere near my mouth but if you want to?" shoulders rise and fall, a lightness soon filtering into a gaze that, lately, has been far more reserved than it was before 'ending up back on the road'. "all yours. have at it. most of the time? don't think you could tell much of a difference when you're done.."

"nice to meet you, hedge. so. um." gaze wanders through gravestones and mausoleums. massive willow trees and faded flowers, colors muted by the night. "did i interrupt a job of yours? anything i can help with? or were we both just.. weird place at the right time?" so far? sam doesn't seem to pick up on exactly what he's talking to. give the psychic some time. a ticking alarm's planted in his head, after all. one that keeps going off whenever it wants. it's been a grand old time dealing with that.

[seasononesam]

2x13 // 4x04

I wanted to believe ... so badly, ah ... It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And ... there's so much evil out there in the world, Dean, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up...I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. I've got demon blood in me, Dean! This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak! And I'm just trying to take this - this curse... and make something good out of it. Because I have to.

[safetypinned]

@chyremn -- i'm gonna throw up.

[chyremn]

a relentless flow, the water continues to run so indifferently into the rusted drain as the young man folds himself onto the cold, stained tile floor. arms lower, but castiel remains standing ─ battered hand still enclosed within his own, eyes lingering on the trembling human skin. torn and bloodied, but warm, despite the chill of the room. fresh liquid gathers again where nails have dug too deep. he keeps holding him. hands never leaving the hunter's as he crouches down at last before him. movement a bit awkward as his vessel settles onto one knee against the harsh ground.

it's never coming out.

' you bore no responsibility for what happened to you as an infant. ' he's not here to reprimand him. that was never his intention. yet, every word he speaks carries an unintended edge, because compassion is still something castiel has yet to master. hands press carefully around a ruined one, cerulean hues steady on the face before his own. ' the first corruption was inflicted upon you. you know the others were not. ' tears gather, exhaustion playing out ; red-rimmed eyes searching desperately for something. answers. relief. absolution. things the angel cannot bestow. ' sam, ' he continues, ' i don't believe you are beyond recovery. but i do believe you are in grave danger. ' a pause. ' i also believe that every choice you make moving forward carries greater weight than the last. consider them carefully. '

castiel is no stranger to corruption, nor to resistance. he's witnessed it all before. the way righteous ones have fallen, and broken ones have endured. he holds sam's gaze, grip loosens. ' if this were beyond hope, i would not be here. ' and with that, one hand reaches toward the sink, the other kept gently over sam's knuckles. handle groans beneath fingers as he moves it. water slows. stops. room finally quiet.

[safetypinned]

sam doesn't mind the way his arm's raised up so cas can keep hold of it. honestly? the angle feels better as the blood towards the torn skin slows with less gravity alievating some of the pressure. not that sam cares. or minds how much rolls down his wrist or drips into the swirling, iron smelling water flooding down the drain taking ribbons of crimson with it on the way down. bleeding was the entire point. the pain. the ache. the panicked rush that can only be invoked by carving into himself. dean doesn't know he does this. (isn't the first time he's tried to claw his way down to his bones in hopes of making himself clean again.) that'd break his brother. yet again. never works. never. never coming out. remember? never.

pleading hazel stares at the descending angel as he moves to crouch on the floor. sam's hand's stopped shaking. soothing warmth quells the worst of the vibration. only his pulse racing through jagged, ripped skin remains. there's no outward sign of pain as both of cas's hands encompass his. sam seems to be clinging to every edged word offered. he knows castiel's own unique way of connection. of attempting to make his point clear. doesn't stop the burning in his eyes. doesn't make his admission any less self-damning. tears fall in the wake of fluttering blinks meant to keep them back. large ones that drip from wet lashes and streak down pale cheeks.

seeking out anything more than blunt honesty is foolish. undeserved. what could he ask for from a being that's the opposite of everything sam sees in the mirror? damnation. tainted blood. a black-rimmed soul destined to fall while begging that a heaven he clung to since he was a child would one day open up and save him from the dark shadows that linger always out of direct sight but never go completely away. waiting. lurking. whispering. god turned his back on you before you were made.

the weight of warning takes what's left of his resolve and sends it on a freefall. least he's not beyond saving. what's that supposed to do? fix him? how? sam nods, guilt ridden eyes underneath wrinkled eyebrows never leave cas's watchful stare. the silence is deafening. "i should've stayed dead.. i understand what dean means when he says that now. but it's different for him. i'm not good. when i died.. whatever's in me was gone. i saw him, you know? i saw everything. when i was dead. no one knows. no one sees that i didn't come back the way i was before. how can i be saved? what's left in me to save?" swallowing, his features buckle and he has to look away so he stares at his hand instead. how cas's skin's tainted red and it terrifies him as if what's in him could sink in. corrupt one of the only holy things that sees him as a person. "you need to wash that off.."

[daggerdoggy]

wish i could go missing for a little bit and no one would freak out and then i could come back and they'd be like "did you have fun going missing" and i'd be like "yeah, thanks" and then i could do that every couple of months or so and it wouldn't be a big deal

[cur4tor]

kit trusted sam, but he didn't really know him. the younger man didn't talk much about his life. kit assumed that was for good reason, but that wouldn't stop him from wondering. even still, kit had his own secrets, which might be why he'd found sam in his office, somewhere he definitely wasn't supposed to be.

the heavy thud of the doorframe rattling faded into a quiet hallway, leaving only the sound of sam's ragged breathing. kit didn't let go of his shoulder immediately, instead keeping his hand flat against the heavy canvas of sam's jacket, not to pin him or threaten him, but instead to offer some sort of grounding weight before slowly dropping his arm back to his side. eyes remained warm, with no anger or judgement. he stood there, his broad frame relaxed, taking in the exhausted picture of a man too young to look the way he did. kit saw the frayed sleeves, the way sam's jacket hung too loosely on a frame built to carry muscle, and the panic humming right beneath sam's skin. kit knew that specific brand of deep starvation - the kind that came from running and never being able to stop.

'actually, i'd rather you stay,' kit said softly, taking a half step back, only to give sam some breathing room. eye contact remained, though, and kit found strength enough to allow the corners of his mouth to lift into something friendly but lopsided. 'i'd also like you to be honest about what you were doing in there. but that can come a little bit later,' he glanced down the hall toward the front of the building then back at sam, reaching out to gesture vaguely toward the stairs that would lead up to his apartment over the shop. 'come sit with me. i'll make you some tea,'

[safetypinned]

the touch lingers and sam doesn't seem to know quite how to process the comfort of a grip meant to soothe and help him tether himself back to the present rather than have a mind shoot off like a firework. exploding in different directions all sparks and glittering, guttering pinponts of light that will soon fade only to burst yet again as the next wave rises and greets the shadow of the last. desperate for kit to believe his apology, not mindless words meant to be translated into don't call the cops, but gut wrenching guilt that is summed up in what so many use as a means of dismissal of their mistakes without truly owning up to them. yet that touch--it sticks. swells a rock in the back of sam's throat that a sharp adam's apple bobs harshly in an attempt to swallow.

sam wishes he could choke on it. would serve him right--see? no one punishes him harder than he punishes himself. always has been like that. the price of growing up the way he did. you're always your own worst enemy and the blame game never hits as hard as it does when you're the one swinging the bat. distance given and sam knows why. kit's offering room to breathe. warm eyes and a softened expression meant to quell the anxiety that's turned fair skin whiter. made his heart rush and thrum heavy and hard inside a jugular that thrums in a long neck.

i'd rather you stay.. relief floods in and the tauntness in sam's frame seems to, finally, loosen. not all the way. he hasn't let himself relax in months. longer. even in sleep, he's guarded. the faintest sound jerks him awake. thank god. cause the horror movie that plays behind his eyelids isn't something anyone would want to see. yet--it's always there. waiting for him to drift off before it can creep back in. tongue catches his lips, he rolls them between his teeth and endlessly searches kit's gaze. the offer for tea earns him a small smile. fleeting when the price tag is him talking about why he was here where he didn't belong but there. a glance towards the hall and the stairs, head tucks down in agreement. "okay.. yeah. i owe you that much." sam waits for kit to be the one to lead then follows. almost dutifully. default mode engaged. always the one behind until he forced his way to the front. "thank you.. i just--i wouldn't have blamed you if you told me to leave and never come back. so? thanks.."

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Visit Original Link

Rage Against the Machine - Killing in the Name

[safetypinned]

@vascend || inbox meme reply || accepting!

[trail] for sender to run their fingertip along receiver's jaw. (Could be menacing, could be playful, could be serious. It’s Astarion so 🫠)

a trail of blood bubbles over a reddened lip runs warm down the corner of sam's mouth. the taste is like a memory haunting his veins. rust. iron. his own. the hunter's back is against the wall--gun filled with rounds of bullets minted from a blend of iron and dead man's blood lays useless feet away where it landed once the vampire knocked it out of his hand and kicked it to the side.

pale hand and cool skin circle a long, slender throat. sam's rebellious even with the threat of death hanging above his head like poe's pendulum swinging back and forth, back and forth as it creeps closer and closer. no fear in his eyes. just rage. boiling over. spilling red hot through his veins and leaking everywhere. not all of it is towards the monster he attempted to put down. no.

some of it's towards being here in the first place. he wasn't supposed to go back to this life. wasn't supposed to be firing rounds of tainted bullets towards nightmares in the flesh. no. sam got out. sam was building something. sam had goals and now. they're. all. gone. the illusion ripped away in one painful night. took the skin right off with it. a fingertip slides along the edge of a defined jawline. hazel eyes stare into crimson. "do it. if you're going to do it..." lips curl back, he bares red streaked teeth. "do it!" why not?? this is the life he doesn't get out of, right? doomed by the narrative! stick with the story, then! ignore the fear, ignore the ache, ignore everything and just.. fucking fight. nails dig into an ivory wrist they wrap around, blunt edges form crescent shapes in flesh. not once does he blink. or look away. or beg. he won't beg.

[usermischief]

[trickheaven]

                              "BIG WORDS FOR A BIG GUY." Gabriel grins broadly. He thinks he likes Sam being all sassy and proud, especially about his dick. It's a good dick. Nicely shaped. Lots of human guys have either issues with their cocks or show blatant arrogance, and it's nice that Sam is neither of those. 

                               The candy shop isn't far, and Gabriel, luckily, decides to put his genitals away before slipping out of the enormous beast of a car. Can't have anyone calling the cops on him and preventing a much-needed sugar intake, right? "What, going candy-shopping with some arm-candy named Sam Winchester? Yeah, it's pretty high on my list of things I dreamed of," the archangel remarks casually, though there's a mischievous, flirty glint in his eyes as he opens the door with a flourish and immediately grabs two baskets, which he fills up in record time with chocolate, gummy bears, caramel, and taffy. He spends most of the time in the international aisle and seems to know exactly what he's grabbing. Gabriel? Definitely a candy connoisseur.

                               The bored-looking teenager behind the counter rings him up for a staggering $389.15. Gabriel looks only a tad apologetic. "I kinda don't have my credit cards on me after being tortured for years, Sam."

[safetypinned]

thank you, gabriel. for not potentially traumatizing anyone that might be in the shop once they walk in. by putting your dick back in your pants! hey! celebrate the small things. not the dick. the gesture! right?? sam follows along watching in awe as the candy man goes absolutely bonkers over filling his baskets full of sugary junk that'd rot the teeth out of ten people. lucky for him? he's an angel. archangel. one of the most powerful beings to exist. and he's got a sweet tooth to match it. hasn't said much past gabriel admitting that candy shopping with him has been a dream. the tint of color on his skin's lingered since.

noticing a couple of things in the international isle that perk his interest, the hunter grabs a few boxes. matcha and taro pocky. a little spread of mochi. leave it to him to find the sort've more healthy options and go for them with a happy glitter in his eye.

lips part at the total. gabriel's gonna--yep there it is. gonna make him pay for it. sam smiles awkwardly at the cashier and hands her his $9.23 worth of goodies to add in. then pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands over a freshly minted card noticing she's looking oddly at gabriel who so casually mentioned being tortured for years. sam's quick to mouth he's a little drunk, offers an apologetic smile and gathers their bags to carry out fast as he can. "don't think i've ever seen someone spend almost four hundred dollars on candy before. impressive, gabriel." could it be? sam's getting his door for him and handing the bags over once gabrield's inside? oh wow! got to live up to the expectation of a dream, right?

wouldn't be very gentlemanly not to.

[safetypinned]

// hey. ever think of that time where sam was getting influenced by a monster of the week and decided that he was going to shoot dean in the face and actually pulled the trigger repeatedly before getting knocked the fuck out cause dean handed him an empty gun? yeah. me neither.

[bansheeslain]

                              EILEEN HAS HER PHONE POISED AND READY. The moment Sam walks out of the closet, she snaps at least 10 pictures of him. "That's going into the spank bank," she tells him with a broad grin. What? He's hot. She doesn't know how she managed to land someone who could very well be an underwear model, but she'll take advantage of his six-pack. Maybe she also wants to brag at the next high school reunion.

                               "And no, we're not going as sheet ghosts, that would be boring. And we know that ghosts look nothing like that." Anyway, she had her fun; now it's time to put Sam out of his misery. She bends down, careful of the sleeping infant in her lap, and pulls a bag from under the bed. Inside, there is a chiton, a plastic breastplate, a plastic helmet with a red panache, and one of those leather skirt things Greek warriors wore. All in all, Sam will only show a little skin above the knee now and naked arms. "C'mon, it's cold out there. Did you really think I'd let you walk around half-naked? You'd get the man-flu." Instead of man-flu, she signs death, which, honestly, is the same thing.

[safetypinned]

queue an instant peel of laughter that bubbles out of a half-naked guy standing there wondering if she's really going to make him go to a party dressed like this. "did you just say spank bank? you did.. okay. no more hanging out with dean for a while." sam makes the sign for bad influence with a frown and shake of his head that only lasts two seconds before he's back to quietly laughing again. spank bank. he'll never forget the day his wife used those two words together and threw him in with them.

awkward head tilt--sam watches her drag the bag out from under the bed before walking over and giving the contents a little peek careful not to wake dj as he lifts each piece up and inspects them. there's the saddest little smile when the thought of charlie crosses his mind. she'd love this. never let him live it down. then would take everything and recreate it to something way better made than plastic. the ghost of that memory disappates quickly though and lips pucker in thought as he gives the helmet a try. slaps it on his head and shoots her a wink. "does that mean i get to see you in one of those really hot low cut dresses the ladies wore in 300? you better say yes. you know? spank bank material goes both ways when the checking accounts are linked." oohhh!!!! so what? she's hot, too! let him enjoy the gorgeous woman he ended up married to! by putting her in a stola.

[chyremn]

@safetypinned: [012] in a hidden corridor [R] presses a blade to [S]’s throat before realizing who it is.

the corridor was narrow, air damp with that faint, sour tang of decay ; the giveaway sign of the godforsaken arachne nest they were tracking. castiel carried himself without the need for light ─ vessel's optics sharp in the gloom as he made his way forward. the sound of skittering had lured the angel deeper until he saw it ; a tall, darkened figure shifting at the edge of his vision. and oh, castiel didn't hesitate ! angel blade swiftly came to his hand in an instant - its point maliciously kissing the hollow of an unsuspecting throat. he was ready to strike right there and then, but then it hits him. oh. that familiarity. not the acrid stench of a monster, but that human warmth. it was just sam.

' oh. ' recognition snaps through his form, hand relaxing at once as he lowers the weapon. ' i'm sorry, ' castiel starts, his voice firm, though a bit framed with awkwardness as he takes a step back. ' i appear to have mistaken your . . . large frame for that of an arachne. ' he watches as hunter's breath rush out ─ humans were fragile. yet they react so strongly to things that haven't even happened yet.

[safetypinned]

boots creep silent as possible through long corridors that reek like hell. nose scrunched, the younger winchester keeps his gun at the ready. sure, he thinks they got them all. not a sign of life anywhere. doesn't mean he's right until they scour every inch for stowaways. turning to his side--sam makes the stupid, stupid mistake of having his gun on the hand opposite of his lead. dean would never let him live that down--a thought that'd come to mind as he rounds a corner and is stopped by the blade point resting right against the dip of his throat. adam's apple bobs as his air's immediately sucked in. hazel eyes wide in the dark. adrenaline laced anxiety floods his veins, pupils swallow themselves. two pinpoints of black in a mirage of hues.

heart hammering in his chest, he squeaks out a silent cas merely moving his mouth before his voice catches up with a second attempt lacking any oxygen to make it much of anything. "cas??" oh. he says?? silver glints in the dim light as not enough distance but distance is quickly put between the blade and his neck. breath rushes out as his lungs cave in relief. "you.. you wh--you scared the hell out of me." hand swings up to clasp the angel's shoulder. gives it a little shake. all's well, he figures. that ends with him not stabbed in the jugular?? shaking his near death experience off as much as he can, sam murmurs. "you see anything? i think we're clear.." sounds a hell of a lot like.. i want to get the hell out of here, please and thank you??

[qapsiel]

@safetypinned sent: [ TXT ] : you don't have to ask, i'm already on my way.

[text: Sam] Thank you, Sam. [text: Sam] The bleeding has stopped, I think, but it is pretty deep. I think I'll need stitches

[safetypinned]

[text: Cas] jesus, cas! [text: Cas] what happened? don't move too much. [text: Cas] i'll see what i can do when i get there. [text: Cas] i'm pretty good at stitches. ask dean.

[mischieflawed]

❝ Okay, soooo maybe I need to get rid of a body; kind of figured a little fire and a big hole were the way to go.❞ Stiles is already searching around for matches, making a mess in the process.

❝ And the gun is to just see if you would give me a weapon, most people go No Stiles, you can't be trusted with one. Let me tell you, you almost shoot someone by accident in the head, and they never let you forget it.❞

[safetypinned]

the look of sheer and utter bewilderment etched upon angular features could be a case study in how well an expression can suit a set of adjectives so damn loudly. sam stands there with his palm covering his mouth, brows jerked high enough they're disappearing behind a mop of dark hair and how lost can one person be?

the answer to that? as lost as sam winchester is watching this scenario unfold.

dropping a set of long fingers to his side, slack jaw clamps shut and lips work around an attempt at speaking til--okay there's his voice! MIRACLES! let's celebrate the small ones! "you.. okay. no gun. sorry." tidying up behind the tornado, he grabs the matches first and shoves them in his pocket. "i'll hold onto those, too." cringe and a shrug. "just in case. let's just.. um. you take the shovel and lead the way. fair?"

[safetypinned]

@mischieflawed || random as hell inbox reply || uh???

" Sam, I need a gun, a shovel, gasoline, and some matches."

"okay. um. sure.. just--i??" brief pause as he attempts the most basic logic to the sheer level of confusion and disaster scenarios instantly springing to life in his mind--in unison. "..got some questions. okay. one actually.." pointer finger aimed skyward, he twitches it towards stiles asking him to hang on and indulge him in one answer. first. before they.. uh get to hiding a body. or soon to be body seeing as how a gun was mentioned first and foremost.

"...why?"

[unspokcn]

@safetypinned and I just belting out songs in comments, nothing to see here.

IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT'S THRILL OF THE FIGHT...

[safetypinned]

RISIN' UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVAL! AND THE LAST KNOWN SURVIVOR STALKS HIS PREY IN THE NIGHT!