#inthelightofsalvation

[academyofdespair-blog]

hello hello!! sending in my app for sam winchester, with prior reserve! ouo

Welcome to Hope’s Peak, Weenie Baby!

You will be roomed in apartment #111 with your new roommates P5 Protag and Sorey. Don’t think about escaping the city because you never will, upupu!

☣ chainsaw mod

[guiltyangle-blog]

inthelightofsalvation replied to your post:Sam was always her least favourite of the two.

OKAY FIRST OF ALL

i am sam winchester and i am going to bang on my highchair and make a lot of noise

[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." 

[laruaobelisci-blog]

CONJUNX, conjugis. ⁂ sam.

  Ruby was always creature of pride. In witch status, she'd   find happiness in successful spells and hexes, especial   when it was that of her first time attempting them so. Demonification   only brought the rise as like chemical reaction to spoken of   attribute, only causing waves to swell over time as she   swore work and life under Lilith and Lucifer. Her target, easy   to deceive, whom would always prevent own brother from   ever truly taking the knife to ‘ her ’ flesh and blood and   existence beyond such physicalness. In most common   present phrase: Like taking candy from a baby, it was so easy,   but she was more, in reality, ever giving it to the, hah, poor   man any time he wanted, in frank literalness.

                                                                                             She'd come to him, and he'd                                                                                              risen her up so high, as if                                                                                              personal throne. O, the glory. It                                                                                              was loveable.

                                                         Lilith, indeed, dead; Lucifer, of course, in turn, risen;                                                          Ruby, killed by both brothers yet still roaming some                                                          stretch of earth here and now amongst the                                                          common maggots. It brought muscles to narrow                                                          her eyes as tongue swept gently along bottom side                                                          of molar collection, physical acts as thought                                                          conjured and mixed. She'd been undoubtable                                                          witness, and remembered well as if own's echo the                                                          searing in her chest from graced blade. Pupils                                                          flicker back and forth in their focus of direction.                                                          Brought back into existence for some purpose or                                                          another, yet no word of how so or more importantly                                                          of why, and so demon must speculate for herself.                                                          Not work of God nor angel, any; it was never even                                                          something to be thought even by maddest man                                                          ( though, can she really give such estimate ).                                                          Shifting of one singular eyebrow upwards. Lucifer's                                                          work, perhaps. Perhaps she'd been set to find                                                          someone. Something. In prayer to him would she                                                          find out truth, and this is in fact second time she                                                          has brought musing to herself over this.

                                                Carry hope, must she so; unless she was                                                 truly brought here for no reason, work                                                 beyond the Star's, and that was oddity                                                 beyond oddity and did strike minor fear in her.

  Staring onto the airport from afar does she find him, and   the coyness of her lips is immediate in feeling yet forms   in patience. Of course, excitement is in bloom, fireworks   to work inside of meatsuit's gut and head tilts slightly   against her palm and fingers, folded. She can only   imagine and delight in reaction. Yes, one half killed by   this man, corresponding part she knew to be in   existence here. There was most definitely purpose for her.   Great purpose, just as before, and she would fulfill   accordingly and more. Filling the glass with too much   wine of finest brand that it leaks and flows unto   below surface was never always negative occurrence.

                                                         She walks, in her swaying of hips, and stops some                                                          feet behind him.

                               “　Hey, Sam.　”

             Calling, almost soft and              succubus - esque in              sense, but still can be              heard swell.

[walkingtheinferno]

♪ ♫

♪ a song that reminds me / fits my muse.

Pretty Girls Make Graves – If You Hate Your Friends, You're Not Alone

♫ a song that reminds me of one of my muse’s relationships ( Castiel, post mental breakdown ).

Little Wasted Angel – Cosmo Jarvis

[intheshadowofdamnation]

Seated by the cafeteria window as he ate his supper, fading rays of sunlight beating warmth down upon his shoulders, Dean nearly choked on his sandwich at the impossible sight he could've sworn he'd just seen. The tall, familiar figure didn't pass directly by the window, but he was still close-- though each step took him in the direction opposite from where Dean reclined in an uncomfortable plastic seat. Almost tempted to plunge head-first out the glass, Dean snatched his jacket and wormed into it as quickly as possible, keeping his eyes fixed on the individual's back all the while.

He only looked away to bolt out the door.

Not quite running, but definitely not walking, Dean traversed the sandy shores in heated pursuit of the figure. It wasn't hard to catch up-- it wasn't as if the man knew he was fast approaching, not until he reached to slap a hand against the other's shoulder, instant recognition prying a name from his lips before he could stop it: "Sam--?"