I’m so endlessly proud of and inspired by the beauty that is Sam Winchester. He deserves all the love and happiness in the world, and he is the purest, kindest lil baby I’ve ever had the honor to watch develop as a character.
There are so many things I’d kill to be able to tell him.
Thank you for teaching me that it’s okay to move on from my mistakes and forgive myself.
Thank you for teaching me to love myself.
Thank you for showing me how to be brave.
Thank you for reminding me to value my family.
Thank you for inspiring me to always do the right thing.
Thank you for changing my life for the better.
I love you, Sam Winchester. Happy 34th Birthday you goofball. 🖤
It’s the luminous and lovelythundersshadow’s birthday, and as per the usual, I gift her (and the rest of you, if she’s magnanimous enough to share) a birthday snippet. I panicked a bit over this one because I feel like I’ve already posted half the chapter in snippets and I have to leave some things to the imagination, but then I realized that I could actually build upon this one, the original bday snippet (which has changed slightly since then), which is the beginning of the chapter and thus won’t be giving too much else away, and yay everyone wins!
So have an awesome, amazing day, Sam, and enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. =D
Here’s to Sammy.the boy that never got to know his mother.the boy that was poisoned with demon blood when he was just a baby.the boy that was raised by his older brother and absent father.the boy that wanted to be normal.the boy that spent hours and hours searching about monsters,rituals and mythology ever since he was a kid.
Here’s to Sam. the man that desobeyed his father and entered Stanford University.the man that wanted to be a lawyer.the man that saw his girlfriend burning on the ceiling,and went away with his brother to look for the father he had left.the man that was chosen for something he never asked for.the man that trusted a demon,just to save his brother.the man that would’ve done anything,even dying and going to hell in his brother’s place,just to bring him back.the man that got addicted to demon blood thinking he was going to save the world,and lost his sanity and his brother’s trust because of it.the man that thought of himself as a freak all his life.the man that was lucifer’s shell himself,that fought against him,and volunteerly threw himself in a cage to have his soul tortured by the devil himself.the man that was cold and merceless once,and wanted to repair all his mistakes,even if that cost his life - again.the man that went through a living hell inside his head,that went to hell and back.the man that would put anything in front of himself,because he thinks he’s not worth being saved.the man that only cares about saving as much people as he can,doesn’t matter how much it costs.the man that loves his brother above anything.
Here’s to Samuel Campbell Winchester. the boy,the man,the hero.
Also, it’s Sam’s ( @crossstitchedonmythrowpillows ) birthday! Happy birthday my good friend <3 This one’s for you :) (go wish them a v happy birthday!!)
tw for abusive home situation.
My father always warned me about the Sirens. Vicious mere-people with sharp teeth and persuading beauty they were, according to the stories.
Though, I can’t imagine them being scarier than my own father.
My parents had been yelling again, and when my mother came to my room she told that right now it would be best if I would go visit a friend.
“Don’t you and Penny have something to work on for school? Go, go and pay your friend a visit.”
My mom hasn’t been herself lately, she’s, well, a bit confused lately. No, Penny and I don’t have anything for school to work on, it’s summer vacation. My mother has seem to forgotten, though.
I don’t blame her. My father’s been getting worse. When my mother came to my room her eyes were red and her arms were covered in red handprints. I wish I could protect her from my father, but she wouldn’t let me. She thinks she needs to be the one protecting me.
I know I wouldn’t win from my father. I’m only fourteen and my body hasn’t grown into itself yet. My mother is right when she tells me my father would hurt me if she didn’t stand in between me and my father. There’s no way that I would win that argument, but I don’t think she understands how much it hurts me, seeing her like this.
So now I’m outside, expected to go to Penny, but I don’t want to constantly bother her family when mine is fucking it all up again. I’m walking towards the rocky part of the beach, to watch the waves as they come and go.
I know the Sirens are real, I wonder if I’ll spot one. When Penny and I were younger we always used to be out looking for the Sirens. I think Penny has stopped believing in their existence, but I never have. I am sure I’ve seen one of them once. A dark green tail is all I saw that day, but I know it didn’t belong to a normal fish–like I said, the tail was dark green–I know it was a Siren.
The sun has already gone under when I sit down on one of the rocks. The waves splash against my rock, but I’m sitting high enough not to get wet. I have my knees pulled up agains my chest, my arms hugging them whilst he rest my chin on my arms. A huge sigh leaves my mouth.
I close my eyes and force myself to relax. Mom will be okay.
I hate myself for being so weak.
When I open my eyes again and look at the water I see a pair of eyes looking back at me. I jump and almost fall of my rock. The boy–it a boy, around my age–seems to be frightened by my sudden jump and sneers at me before it ducks back under the surface of the water. Only a second later I see the boy’s dark green tail, and he’s gone.
I crawl to the edge of the rock and look at the sea, but there’s no boy, no Siren, there to be found.
The next evening I’m back at on my rock, waiting–hoping–to see the Siren again. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the boy. He had black, half long hair and a reddish-brown skin. No matter the short look I had gotten, of one thing I was sure, I was intrigued by his beauty. I wanted to see him again.
Sadly, that evening, he didn’t show. Same for the day after that. And the day after that.
I felt alone.
Tonight, as I sat on my rock, I was crying.
It hadn’t been my mother who had come into my room to tell me to go see Penny this evening, like normally. I had been sitting on my bed, covering my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear their screams when my father stormed into my room.
“Out!” was all he said to me. I cried for my mother like a six year old. I didn’t know where she was. I still don’t know.
I’m hugging myself as tears after tears make a path down my cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” I hear a soft but clear voice say.
I look down into the water and see the same pare of eyes, the same boy as a few days ago, staring back up at me. My eyes grow wide in surprise. This time I have a lot more time to take the boy in. His eyes almost the same color as the sea surrounding him, only more gray. His eyes are round and droopy. His whole complexion is incredibly sharp for a boy of his age. (It makes me wonder how old he actually is.)
“You can talk?” I ask him, I don’t know much about Sirens. Only the stories the people’ll tell you. Those stories are about women that would lure sailors to shipwreck with their enchanting voices. Those stories had never scared me. How can people be so sure of the story when all the people that had seemed to be actually there when the story had unfolded, had died. Who had been the one that had told the story when no one ever survived? When I was younger the story used to make me giggle.
My mother used to tell me different stories about Sirens than all the other people did. She told me about societies of mere-people that lived on the bottom of the ocean in huge palaces that they shared with the fish. She told me the sirens were friends with the other sea creatures because of their beautiful voices. The Sirens would sing to make life under water happy and beautiful.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to talk? You assume I can only sing?” The boy asked.
I don’t know what I’d assumed. Just not talking. I shrug.
“Why are you crying?” The boy asks again even though I’m pretty sure my tears have stopped.
“I think I’ve lost my mother,” I say and I feel my eyes water again.
“Did the Sirens steal her?” The Siren boy asks.
I stare at him for a moment. His eyes, his eyes his eyes. I want to get closer.
“No,” I tell him and then I ask him, “Are you here to steal me?”
“Do you want to come with me?”
I think for a moment. “Yes,” I answer.
“Than it wouldn’t be stealing, would it?”
I smile at him and lean closer to him. I want to touch him. I want to know if he’s real.
“You can come into the water if you want,” The young Siren says. I nod and strip down to my briefs before I slip into the water. The water is cold but I don’t really mind. I get as close to the boy as I can get without making him look uncomfortable, which is pretty damn close. Our noses are almost touching.
“Hi,” I say and I feel lame saying it. The Siren boy just grins. “What is your name?” I ask him curiously.
“Basilton?” I say. “I guess that fits.”
“Just calling me Baz would be okay, though.”
My legs are moving, kicking, to keep my head above the water. Sometimes my legs brush against Basilton’s long green tail. It makes me smile for some reason.
“Do all Sirens have green tails?” I ask him.
“No, why would you think that?”
I just shrug.
“Do you want to swim together?” Baz asks. I’m still smiling and I nod.
Baz swims so much faster than I do. (It’s because of his tail, it isn’t fair.) We don’t stray far from my rock when we swim, or at least I don’t.
Sometimes Baz disappears for moments underwater and then tries to sneak up on me, hoping to make me jump. Eight out of ten times, he succeeds.
“You’re tired,” Baz says after a while.
“I’m not,” I lie.
“I want to stay here.”
Baz smiles at me, comes closer and takes my hands in his. I can’t help but blush.
“You could come with me,” he says.
“Wouldn’t I drown?”
Baz was silent for a moment. “I’d have to turn you. If I bite you, you’d become a Siren. You could come live with me.”
Baz seems excited, but I feel a little scared and mainly unsure.
“But–” I say, “I need to wait here.”
“You said you lost her.”
“I need to find her again. Baz, she will come back for me. I need to wait here. I need to find her again,” I tell him desperately.
Baz’s face falls. “You won’t find her here,” Baz whispers.
“I have to wait,” I tell him, whispering as well. I lean my head forward a bit so our foreheads touch. “Will you be here again tomorrow?”
Baz nods and I give him a weak smile. Before I know it Baz pressed his lips against mine in a firm, quick kiss. He ducks under the surface of the water so quickly that I can barely see his face after he pulled away from the kiss. Though I’m sure he was blushing.
The next few days are a mess. I don’t visit the rock. Leaving Baz like that makes me hate myself. I hope he understands, if I see him again.
It’s almost a week later when I visit the rock again, crying again. I’m still wearing the black clothes of my mothers funeral. No one knows where I am. Penny knows I went on a walk after the funeral, but no one knows I’m here. No one knows why I’m here.
“You’re crying again,” I hear Baz say.
I look up and I nod. “You came.”
Baz looks unhappy. “I came every day. I told myself today was the last day I would come to see if you were here. Why are you crying?”
“My mother… She’s gone.”
I shake my head, but then I say, “I think my father.”
“Why do you think that?” He asks, but I just stay quiet.
“Simon?” He asks again, but I don’t answer. I just strip my clothes off and get into the water. I swim towards Baz and wrap my arms around him when I am close enough. I clung onto him and cry. He wraps his arm around me and holds me tightly.
The two of us slowly sink under the surface of the water. Neither of us cares.
Only when I’m desperate for air I kick myself up. My head appears above the surface again and I inhale. The crying has stopped. It’s only a second later when Baz’s head pops up above the water as well. He just stares at me.
“I want you to turn me,” I tell him.
He nods, though he doesn’t look happy about it the way he did last week.
“I want to be with you,” I say.
Baz nods again and then he kisses me. I sigh into the kiss, wanting to cry again. Though this time it would be tears of relief. I feel sure of this, I feel sure of him. I feel safe and that is something I’ve never felt in my entire life.
I hold onto him and I kiss back. I relax, I feel. I’m good, even though so many things are so far from good right now. This, this is good. Baz is good and I want to stay with him.
“Baz, I want you to turn me,” I say against his lips.
Baz breaks away from the kiss and looks me in the eyes. I look back. His eyes are beautiful and I love them.
“Okay,” Baz tells me and he presses a kiss to my cheek. And then a kiss on my neck.
And then teeth, before all goes black.
I feel weird when I wake up. You’d think I’d feel out of place, but no… just weird.
Though when I open my eyes and look around I know all is good.
Happy birthday @kurootetsru :3 thank you for introducing me
to Troye Sivan, and
unknowingly sparking an idea for a MakoHaru fic where Makoto is Troye and all
his songs are about his unspoken feelings for Haru X3 AO3 Link
In order to get the full reference of this fic, and to enjoy
Troye’s greatness, Ihighly encourage watching his three-part Blue Neighbourhood MV
“Hee hee! Look, Haru-chan! We can put our pinkies inside
the keychains coach Sasabe gave us—they’re like little finger puppets!”
“Shh, Makoto. If we’re not quiet, your mom will scold us for staying up too late.”
two childhood friends huddled close together, taking refuge underneath
the sheets of Makoto’s bed with nothing but a flashlight and the keychains they had received from their swim club earlier
that day. Mrs. Tachibana had already come into the room once to remind
the boys that they had school the next day and needed their rest, but
her efforts proved futile considering the pair had felt restless ever
since playing house with the twins.