#mooningsammy

[saintsurvivors]

five conversations that you never have. or, magda and sam ft telepathy

for @mooningsammy

one

teach me, magda does not say. she stares up at sam, looks right through him.

they are one in the same.

i’ll try, sam does not say, and then does not say anything about the tears in her eyes, the way her blood spills over his hands as she hugs him, the way he feels scars and revenge. she smells like blood and ash and holy water.

she smells like lucifer, and that is a longing sam hasn’t known for years.

two

you know me, magda does not say. 

she stares up at sam, this time she does not look right through him. no, magda has only eyes for the scars on sams stomach, the patches of skin took from him. you know me, she does not insist.

i know the devil, sam says softly, and takes her hands into his. not you.

her jaw is fragile in his hands, and sam has never known a pain like it when she closes her tear wet eyes and knocks their foreheads together.

you know me, she does not insist. 

three

wake up, magda does not say. she’s hovering at his bedside, wraith pale and ghost quiet. her lips are red and her eyes are redder. she’s been crying. wake up, samuel.

the cage fractures, helix sweet rituals, old age normality in looking into the eyes of someone and not saying everything you ever wanted to say. 

where were you? magda does not say. sam doesn’t say anything back. doesn’t think he can never quantify into the words just where he was.

he’s broken himself down enough times to know.

wake up, silly, magda does not say, and in turn, she is the one to cup his jaw in her hands, knocks their foreheads together. 

he thinks if he and jessica were to ever have a daughter, he would have liked them to be magda.

four

he is scared of us, magda does not say, and sam does not say anything about how she watches his older brother. 

he’s scared of us, he does not say. lies are a thing that do not cross his lips, not now, not since-

will he...? magda does not ask, and sam swallows a mouthful of rosewater blood in lieu of his coffee. the basement flickers, rope around his wrists, magda in front of him. blood is on her back.

leather lays waste to them both.

never, sam does not say. does not say about all the things that he will do if dean ever thinks of laying hands on either of them. never.

five

are you the devil? magda does not say.

i don’t know, sam does not say. i think i might be.

[dammitjensen]

I was tagged by @ruthiesconnells to do the ‘Describe yourself with ONLY pictures you have’ tag. Rules are: you cannot download or search any new pictures Tag 10 people.

So the selfies are because I’m always taking selfies with some sort of filter, never without it. The meme basically explains itself and the video (which I know I cheated but it’s me in a nut shell) is of me getting into a tiny ass plastic lag to see if I fit (it’s a joke between my friends and I) and my best friends boyfriend decided to lift me up 😂

I tag: @castiels-tight-grip @gracefuldean @starsmish @moonlightcas @mooningsammy and idk who else to tag. (You obviously don’t have to do this, just thought it would be fun!)

[saintsurvivors]

Talk boyking stigmatic Sam to me, Kel.

TO ALL THE ANGELS YOU EVER PRAYED TOO

you die. you die and you feel it, every excruciating inch. every nail dig, every lungful of desperation gulped down that can never fill the well that sits in the bottom of your belly.

you smell of frankincense, of grace, of blood; you’re choking on blood and air and they stare upon you. thousands of firefly eyes that look up on you, reverent, forgiving, holywater sin that you’re drowning in.

spreadeagle arms, your eyes stare upon the cathedral, nailed and held still, you think He’s looking upon you, and know that you have never wanted to burn but that is all you crave, at this moment. breathless, pure, bloodied.

the only thing that changes is whose blood it is.

blood in your mouth, your throat, your chest; you’re forever drowning in it. slit from navel to throat, maybe the only thing that will spill out is rosesweet holywater. 

maybe you’d swallow that down, too.

it always comes down to the blood in your mouth.

holiness and light and self hatred; pinned like a butterfly, coyote gold eyes. never again shall you be yourself. 

something is growing inside of you, with each stuttering exhale, with each swallowed down grace shard that they press to your mouth with theirs. they take your jaw, mouth to mouth, kiss you with a tenderness you think you never wanted to know from them.

a great something is born, and it knows only cages, knows only cages and shackles. only blood and pain, holiness and light and revenge and you have borne it with familiarity. 

you have lost count of how many times you know this pain. the slick slice of nails, in wrists, in ankles. the hyperextension of your chest, blood and grace, holy rosewater replacing the breathlessness.

eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani! cried, hollered, swallowed down in angelic sweet mouths that give only grace and no life.

you haven’t forsaken him, but he has you, but maybe that’s the secret. 

maybe that’s the thing that you’ve never been able to get through to your head. you close your eyes, old age rituals, suicides always go to hell you know. but this is not like all those years before.

before your home, before dean, before everything.

in the end there was you, your brother, your angel.

before everything, there was only you and the morningstar forever burning bright, light-bringer, other half of your soul that you never wanted.

you burnt him out of you, and even then it’ll never be enough.

(that’s the secret.

you were burned, you were about to burn, you are still on fire.)

in gerber, oaklahoma, it’s three am and here, here you’re drowning in feathers, in grace, in blood, in the forgiveness you force yourself to feel as they crowd,

live, the angels, the demons, your brethren say. rise, rise rise!

you cannot hear for the blood.

you’re thankful for it.

INTERMISSION.

now.

now there is only you. only you, and those coyote gold eyes.

you arise, you arise and you arise. you are bent wood and rusted nails, something inside you have been borne anew.

messiah they breathe, they pray, they holler.

they took your body into their arms, fashioned themselves into your cross.

in the trench site of your heart, yarrow flowers bloom and wither in seconds, far deep beneath your ribs, your heart, everything you ever knew. .

from your hands, your feet, your back, your ribs, blood pools, slick and black and glistening. your crown of thorns are rotting, splitslick with your own blood. you do not feel the pain of it.

your brethren fall to their knees, angels and demons alike, your brother, your angel, they alone stand in the fields. your angel, your warrior, he gazes upon you, veins black, splattered, dismorphing, leviathan teeth grin.

lightbringer, one calls upon you. they are slit, navel to throat. no. no, you are not the lightbringer, not the morningstar.

you swallowed him down, and down into your belly went michael too

holiness, and light, and revenge.

[saintsurvivors]

for @mooningsammy​

one.

you awake. you’re surrounded by angels and never have you been so sure of your death. angelic sweet rituals, you bleed upon their hands and they shout, they holler, choir sour notes.

you dream. you’re surrounded by angels. this time, they take your jaw in hand, kiss your mouth with theirs, bloodied, sweet. you swallow down grace and rosewater.

you gulp down desperation in the visions of angels.

two.

poppy red smeared, rosewater thick, you drink down blood in lieu of coffee. you’re choking on it. devouring and devoured, angels cry within your throat. the heavens below and only hell above.

you’re choking on that too; both of them, sliding, day by day, sideways, into you. 

three.

five stitches long, two ribs deep. you’re opened up from navel to throat and you’re laid out with all the delicacy of angelic mourning fingers.

he bends close, mouth to ear; ozone thick and sheet lightening that isn’t. you’re electrified beneath those calloused fingers. you breathe in his grace, and breathe out life.

you smell of blood, of frankincense, of holywater sin.

four.

hosanna, blessed be the lord, you hear the earth cry. you cry too, rosewater blessed and frankincense in the back of your tongue.

you breathe it.

only heaven below and hell above. 

five.

for christ sake, says he, your brother. enough with all the blood, sammy.

blood is all there is, you think. you’re drowning in it, after all.

[saintsurvivors]

for @mooningsammy​

ONE.

Your returned king has been long awaited. He strides into Hell with nary a trouble, coyote gold eyes and a wild smile for a mouth. He strides into Hell and you are borne anew. He sits upon his throne and you fall to your knees. He is ash and fire and grace, and you bow before him.

He is upon his throne, and he is your returned king. He opened his chest wide and took from himself the Sigil of Lucifer carved upon his chest. He yawned his body wide open and you settled your allegiance into his body. Lucifer loyalists live and die by his hands.

You bow to your returned king.

TWO.

Your returned king is mighty. He swallowed down Lucifer, swallowed down Michael; He swallowed down Hell and Heaven and everything in between. He grins with Leviathan sharp teeth; a million teeth trapped in the maw he calls a mouth, ruby red and glistening. Too many even for demons, you think. He grins, and you fall to your knees.

You are terrified of your returned king,

Your returned king is mighty, trapped in fragile human skin that knits back together, he drinks nothing but the black ash of your disgraced winged Fallen’s. Angelic sweet rituals have never tasted to demonic.

Even G-d, you think, would fall to Their knees, beneath the might of your returned king. 

You live and die by his hands, your returned king. It feels a lot like ecstasy.

THREE.

Your returned king is kind.  He steps forth unto Hell, ten wings spread wide, grace and ash cracking his bones, his skin; he is everything and nothing. He is your returned king and you know nothing of what he is. 

Your returned king is kind; he does not let you look upon his true form, not fully.

You never tell your returned king that such a kindness is selfish; you would lay at Lucifer’s feet to glimpse such glorious ruin.

FOUR.

Your returned king is merciless. He steps forward, bares years of Leviathan teeth, of Cage fractured and remade jaw. Cain trembles beneath his might, and the smell of his fear is deep, intoxicating. Your returned king steps forward, and steps on a bug that you think Lucifer would have struggled with.

Abel stepped forward, and Cain broke beneath the might of it. Your returned king stepped forward and Dean Winchester broke beneath the might of it.

Your returned king is merciless. His brother, Cain and Abel replicate, sweet helix rituals, dies.

He lies in his brothers undug grave in Cold Oak. Graveyard dirt and Azazel blood sworn.

FIVE.

Your returned king never trembles, never quakes, never quivers. He steps forward, coyote gold eyes and too many teeth for that terrible maw he calls a mouth. 

Your returned king steps forward, and you welcome him. Your returned king steps forward, and you never tremble beneath his gaze.

You will always give yourself fully over to him.

[dammitjensen]

🎃 ummm uh my favorite halloween movies are Halloween (the very first one with Jamie Lee Curtis) and uhh The Nightmare Before Christmas! am i doing this right? I really adore you and i want you to have the best life can offer goodnight

ouu I love both those movies, great choices! aww youre too sweet thank you. I adore you and your blog and hope you have a good life too.

-

url: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | jensen’s singing

icon: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | misha’s smile

desktop theme: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | jared’s laugh

mobile theme: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | jensen’s freckles

posts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | misha’s nose scrunch

overall: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | jared’s s14 scruff

following: no, sorry | f+ | yes❤️ | forever and always

blog compliment: beside your themes, I love everything about you blog. I love seeing your posts on my dashboard and they make me smile. You seem like such a sweetheart and would love to get to know you

want one of these?

[poirot]

may i join? my name is bethany and my birthday is october 2nd 🌙

sure, you’ve been added to the page !

join my birthday page

[dammitjensen]

🐰☀⚡💛

Thanks for sending these babe!

-

🐰: what is one secret that you’ve never told anyone?

I actually can’t think of anything. I’m an open book and whatever isn’t obvious I just tell people lol

☀️: what do you like the most about your best friend?

She’s always checking up on me, even if we both have super busy days, can make me laugh about anything and everything, and just an amazing person in general!

⚡️: if you had any superpower, what would it be and why?

I wouldn’t want any other ‘super power’ than to change the worlds flaws. People without food and shelter, that would be taken care of, etc.

💛: if you could tell your younger self something, what would you say?

Already answered!

Send me emoji asks or anything really bc I’m bored