I breathe sharp —
Your lips, the weight of your fingers on my stomach. Delirium. Nobody warned me of falling in love with a songbird. Nobody told me of his siren and the jagged path of his soul. His cheekbones cut like Italian marble, and I am no Michelangelo, I cannot create us into better people. He sings nightmares when father isn’t watching and I play them on my ceiling fan, like our home movies. How much would it take to unravel our history?
I can close my eyes sometimes and fall back to sleep —
Brother, I see you, live wire, underneath my hands. I am blushing, lost in the cadence of your hello. Hear the carols singing, you know what you do and you do it anyway. The pine sticks to your leather jacket, and I watch you like girls watch stars. We were christmas lights in the middle of July, surreal.
Alone, as usual —
God, send help. His name is a prayer and I’ve never believed in anything before. Tell me what to do, so I can do this right. I am afraid of losing this again.
But, wanting like before —
Lazarus left me a voicemail saying he never wants to see me again. Heaven didn’t call back and mailed me your heartache instead. It was a pretty postcard of the Grand Canyon. I love you too much, I love you too bad. You are the bullet wound I could never stitch up solo. Please don’t go.
How can I demonstrate my abilities without exceeding the
limits …? I have a daunting task. I must paint the perfect picture inside a
canvas that has already been placed inside a magnificent frame. ~Kyoyo Ootori
Sam gets a dog, but it’s not just any dog. 1300 words.
Sort of a continuation to this ficlet, an 11.09 tag in which Sam befriended a Hellhound puppy in the makeshift cage with Lucifer. You don’t need to read it to understand this. Written in celebration of Sam’s 33rd birthday.
Sol is a good dog, as good as any Sam’s ever met, but he’s not like other dogs.
That’s okay, really. Sam isn’t like other people. They both have a touch of the infernal in them, scars on their souls. Both were raised for something terrible. Both overcame it.
Sol knows Sam is his before the two of them leave Hell, and Sam knows the same. Hellhounds come in all shapes and sizes, but Sol’s big paws promise that he’ll be a tall one. Dean, of course, is more than a little cautious once they get out, and Sam makes sure to keep the puppy away from Dean.
The interesting thing about Hellhounds, Sam learns, is that they can sink their teeth into anything. They’re on a hunt just a bit north of Lebanon–a cakewalk; run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit–and Sam loses his focus for just a second, just long enough for the spirit to knock Dean into the wall and pin Sam to the fireplace, her ruined face twisted into a mirthless grin and eyes blazing with delight.
Margaret Justice died in fire, and Sam can feel embers at his feet (too familiar, too much like there) and a fire blazes up inside of him. Michael, he thinks, please stop. Please.
He’s choking on the rising heat, mumbling and pleading in Enochian, when the grip on his throat loosens and the fire inside him abates.
Thank you so much @orphanblack!!! Was so excited to get this today. Because I already have the DVD, that will be shipped to my Sestra @tatiananmaslany. Gotta spread the clone club love. You guys are the best!