#samresonates

[wordsinhaled]

the weather gathers slowly on the horizon. an omen, or a promise. sam can almost taste the rain; the wet soil. he wishes he could be as new as soaked earth after a good downpour. 

he goes outside into the wide field that separates the house from the road. like him, it needs work—this house where they live now, with its rotting porch and leaning doorways and night sounds. 

sam lets the long grass tickle his bare feet. the deluge gathers at the back of his mind like those storm clouds on the world’s edge. the sky is pewter-gray now, the color of an unpolished knife blade. 

he waits and he waits, until he can hear the dying cough of dean parking the car a ways down the dirt drive. sam doesn’t know how long he’s stood there in the field. time makes puddles around him, viscous and ankle-deep.

dean says there are no ghosts in the house. 

sam doesn’t believe that, not in his heart where it matters. he wonders if he brought it all here himself: the creaking in the walls at half past midnight, the things that break after sam has touched them, and the sighing that no wind could make.

each afternoon the birds drift away on the wind. each afternoon the heavens grow dark. each afternoon, sam waits.

[crystalfeathers]

why don't you write about Sam playing with little fluffy bunnies while Cas watches him (he can't join bc his nail polish is still drying)

This is not what I expected but I appreciate it greatly

(How and why do they own bunnies in this? Who knows, I don’t and I don’t care because bunnies are fucking adorable and Sam and Cas are adorable so they should own bunnies)

—

Sam picks up another carrot, holding it out for the brown and white ball of fluff that’s wandering around his knees where he’s situated on the grass. Little Lily accepts the orange treat after a short but serious inspection and Castiel fondly observes his boyfriend’s smile from his chair. Sam picks up their second bunny, a smaller black one he carefully cradles against his chest like he is afraid it will break. Castiel drums the pads of his fingers against the arm rest, sunlight shining off the wet dark  blue polish on his nails. He likes how humans have found ways to put color on themselves, but sometimes they need quite some time to dry properly. That’s alright, because he can feel the sun’s warmth on his face and Sam is smiling, playing with their two bunnies in a moment of silence and it feels like nothing can harm them. There’s just the summer day, soft bunnies that make Sam smile and sunlight shining off color.

[ignisnoctscientia]

for the hp game: 17, 26, and 30!

Oh boy, thank you so much

17. Will you be a student who gets into trouble a lot? - No ;_; i can’t be bad and im too scared to break the rules.

26. If the team your house played against wins, do you think you'll be bitter towards the other team after the game? - Absolutely not. It’s just a game. It’s for fun and for learning new things.

30. If someone was to form an organization similar to dumbledore's army, will you join? - Totally yes! 

Send me a number

[glitter-lisp]

Lucifer froze something down deep inside of Sam, something that starts to melt once he remembers that it’s frozen. “It’s so hot, Dean,” he says, and Dean looks at the thermostat, down to fifty-two degrees. 

“Yeah, I know, Sammy.” 

A few days later, there’s Sam, dripping and pale after an ice cold shower, panting as he asks Dean if they can please, please turn the air down. Dean tugs his jacket tighter around himself and says it doesn’t get any colder, Sammy, he’s sorry. 

That night, he loads his gasping, burning little brother into the Impala and they drive as far North as they can on one tank of gas, the fans blasting and the windows rolled down. Dean shivers and clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Sam cries quietly next to him until he gags. He’s running a fever again. 

“It’s never going to be cold enough,” Sam realizes, when he and Dean have broken into some fast food restaurant after hours to stand in the freezer. Sam’s breath clouds in front of him and his bare feet are turning purple. “The world is burning, Dean. Lucifer wants me back." 

"He c-can’t have you,” Dean says. It’s been twenty minutes in here, and he’s freezing, but he’s going to be with Sam every step of the way. 

“I think I want to go back too,” Sam whispers. “It’s so cold in the Cage, not cold like here, cold all the way through you. They were snow angels, and the frost made patterns on my bones.”

There are half-frozen tears on his eyelashes and his voice cracks. “Dean, I’m burning.”

[storybooksam]

Sam used to love the stars. They were the angels that he hoped- dreamed-willed to watch over him and his family. Shining, luminescence full of deeper meaning. He prayed to them every night.

Sam used to love the stars. They were the sparks in Jessica’s eyes, the blue-white that dotted her canvas. He could have looked at them for hours on end and felt at peace.

Sam used to love the stars. They were just something that he and Dean could look at together. Not important, not complicated, not a miscommunication. Just there. It was one of the few things they both understood with all of their hearts. Sit on the impala, crack open a case of beer. Watch the stars.

Sam used to love the stars. They were harsh where they had once been comforting, cold where they had once been warm. Lucifer burned bright and crisp, after all. And he had the eyes to show for it.

Sam used to love the stars.

[wordsinhaled]

i feel like those lyrics "i'm ready to suffer, and i'm ready to hope, it's a shot in the dark and the end of my rope" is so sam that it hurts. he's undergone so many horrible, horrible things and he's still ready to take on whatever the supernatural has to throw at him. he's ready to suffer and believe and it's inspiring, in a way

yes!!!! i love that song for sam ;;;;

[propinquitous]

happy birthday!!! i hope it's as wonderful and lovely as you are =w=

;____; thank you!!

[korviday-blog]

Heads up I haven’t watched an of spn since 9.06 or something

Also heyy @samresonates and @merry-glispmas ebcause you guys like Rosie and Sam so ahhaha

She knows pretty much instantaneously. It’s to be expected really- it’s her job to know things about him, to understand what’s going on. Behind her eyelids is his life and she’s seen all of it and this.

Well. She doesn’t know what to do with this.

She’s just a kid still, and no matter what the yellow-eyed man has taught her so far, there’s no way she can do this.

She was always meant to be the King’s Champion but frankly she’s eleven years old and.

Well, she’s eleven. What is she supposed to do? Go to hell and fight Lucifer himself?

She started in screaming in math once she realized what was going on, not the first time so her teacher just sighed and Rosie, go to the office. I can’t handle you disrupting class like this all the time.

Sam is in hell.

And she’s eleven years old, but they’re both Azazel’s children and she can taste the bitter iron taste of her father's’ blood and she can see her brother behind her eyes because they are a family.

She’s only ever met either of them in person once, as a baby, but.

Sam’s the King. She’s his champion. And right now her King is in hell and he needs her.

The yellow-eyed man, Azazel, their father by blood and bond comes to her later while she’s frustrated at the extra math homework she’s been assigned and shows her how to work out the problems.

Then he starts to tell her about the charms she’ll need to master before going after Sam.

The yellow-eyed man split her left forearm elbow to wrist and drags his thumb down and then.

It’s kind of beautiful- the tattoo or mark or whatever. The scar is going to scare her parents again but she’s used to that and they don’t look much at her anymore. So long as she wears long sleeve ‘til it’s paler she’ll be fine.

The yellow-eyed man doesn’t stop with the witchcraft lecture ‘il her mom comes to wake her up and she wonders if she was asleep for any of it or.

She’s tired and she’s eleven and the yellow-eyed man is teaching her to travel to hell’s nucleus to rescue her brother, her King and she’s tired.

She wonders if Sam is tired too.

She wears a t-shirt and her parents don’t notice the mark. Her teacher does but.

Well her father taught her memory spells for a reason.  And it’s doesn’t matter much anyways. She’s going to hell.

It’s where she’s meant to be, she’s its Champion, left hand lady to the King and whoever he decided to be his right. Still.

She’s eleven and she’s going to hell.

She’ll come back too, with her King, and it’ll be okay because the yellow-eyed man is helping her and.

His blood is bitter iron and.

She cuts her other arm and watches it bleed and this house is cold to her and.

She’s eleven and she’s going to hell.

She wonders if Sam will make her come back here.