#Sam/Zachariah

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 27

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: themes of self-harm, harm reduction, imperfect recovery, PTSD, tattooing, piercings, themes on nonconsensual tattoos and branding, angst

~

“Come into town with me,” Sam said, looking right at Isaac over the breakfast table.

Isaac’s hand tightened in a fist around his cereal spoon. “Um…” He glanced at Gavin, who sat next to him. Gray had already eaten breakfast hours ago and was out on a walk.

Isaac’s scars stung. He was going to… not use his knife, he wasn’t going to do that after breakfast, he told himself he wasn’t. But his skin itched and he needed to do something. He had been planning on holding an ice cube after breakfast until it disappeared into water, dripping off his fingers.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s in town?”

A faint flush warmed Sam’s cheeks, and a smile tugged at their lips. “Zachariah did some asking around, and it turns out one of the guys who lives in town used to be a tattoo artist, back down south. Zachariah is going in today to, uh… get his tattoo covered up.”

“Oh,” Isaac said softly. He chewed his lip and kept his gaze from flicking to Gavin with sheer will alone. “His…” He motioned at his own shoulder with the spoon in his hand.

Sam nodded solemnly. “His Stormbeck crest, yeah.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed. “How would they cover that up? It’s… huge. And dark black.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug. “But apparently the guy said he could do it. And I wanted to go, to support Zachariah. I figured you might come with me.” Their gaze shifted to Gavin’s. “Both of you?”

“That sounds nice, Isaac,” Gavin said gently, sliding his hand into Isaac’s free one. “But if you, um… need a break after last night—”

“No,” Isaac snapped. The embarrassment of Vera’s gaze and words hadn’t faded, but he was fucking sick of being the one having to be babied. Not after what Gavin had been through. Not after what Gavin had survived – after what he nearly hadn’t survived. Isaac wasn’t going to be the reason Gavin stayed inside, away from the sun and air and grass, because he was fucking embarrassed.

He shuddered and carefully put his spoon down. When he looked up at Gavin and Sam in turn, they were looking up at him in concern – or perhaps something deeper than concern. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he ground his teeth against the shame that prickled where their gazes touched him. His throat worked and he made his shoulders relax.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I hate being this on edge.”

“We know,” Sam responded without hesitation – but without judgement, too.

Isaac offered them a tentative smile. He squeezed Gavin’s fingers and glanced between him and Sam. “I appreciate you being concerned. Both of you. But… I’ll be okay. I think it would be better, actually, if… if you both believe I’ll be okay. And…” He returned his gaze to Gavin’s, and his smile grew warmer. “And we should get you outside as much as possible. Get some color in those cheeks before winter comes.”

Gavin laughed and drew his hand through his short-cropped hair. “Vera did say I look so white now I may as well be a ghost.”

“Damn, Vera,” Isaac muttered.

“She meant it as a joke,” Gavin said, still smiling. “I wasn’t hurt by it.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. But maybe she could wait until I stop seeing you dead in my nightmares before she starts joking about it? He pulled Gavin’s thin hand to his lips and kissed the bony knuckles.

“So… yes?” Sam said, giving them both a thumbs up. “Tattoo guy? Zachariah? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Isaac said with a nod. “Gavin?”

“You know I’m always interested in going into town,” Gavin said with a grin, and in that moment, Isaac’s heart swelled to bursting. There was Gavin, his old self – perhaps not his old self, but his true self, the way Isaac had seen him in the few months they had had together before Gavin had been taken – radiant and mischievous and sweet. In that wide, contented grin, the pain and fear had fallen away from Gavin’s face, the circles under his eyes faded, and the scars stretched until they were pale again. Isaac’s throat tightened and he drank in the sight of the thing he hadn’t truly believed he would ever see again: Gavin safe, home, and happy.

The intensity of Isaac’s attention made Gavin blush. “What?” he said, his smile growing wider.

“Just… looking at you,” Isaac murmured. His own face flushed and he looked away. “Sorry.” He glanced at Sam. They stared at him, grinning too. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said with a chuckle. “It’s really nice to see you two back together, is all.”

Isaac flushed deeper and snatched his spoon up off the table. “Yeah,” he said, and scooped up a bite of cereal. “Let’s finish up breakfast so we can head into town.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “I can’t wait to see what Zachariah is gonna get.”

∴

Isaac didn’t know what he found more intriguing: the man’s tattoos, or his piercings. Isaac had seen all kinds of piercings before on the team’s missions – rings all over the ears, in nostrils, in lips, in eyebrows, in nipples – but he had never seen, or at least noticed, anyone who had pieces of metal seemingly embedded in their skin like the tattoo artist did. And he had them all over his face – on his dimples, cheekbones, and above his eyebrows. Isaac couldn’t stop staring.

The man seemed to notice. He gave Isaac a long glance, which had him shifting his gaze down sheepishly. When the man turned his attention to Zachariah, Isaac used the distraction to look at his tattoos.

They covered his skin – or at least, his left forearm and hand, with some stretching up his neck to wind across his jaws as well. His right forearm was almost completely bare, and the half-rolled sleeves of his shirt and pants obscured the rest of him from view. But across his left arm twisted the impossibly complicated shapes of skulls, birds, and geometric shapes, all in a gritty swirl of black and gray and red. The designs shifted with his muscles as slid his hands into his pockets. He stood only a little taller than Sam, and was even more slight in stature.

The shop itself was actually just a glorified shed attached to the feed store, but it looked like it had been completely made over to accommodate an array of tattoo supplies – plus a chair in the center of the large shed that looked like it could be unfolded to be like a bed. A few stools lined the walls as well.

“So,” the man said with a thin shrug. His dark, baggy clothes seemed to hang off him. “You said shoulder, right?”

“Um… that’s, that’s right,” Zachariah said softly. He rolled up his short sleeve and stared at the floor as he revealed his Stormbeck tattoo. Sam reached out and put a hand on his arm.

Isaac’s throat tightened. It’s bigger than I remember.

Still, the man nodded, seemingly unbothered, his eyes moving over the tattoo. He tilted his head. “Any ideas for what you wanted instead?”

“Oh… no,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just whatever works. I know it’s… it’s bad.”

The man snorted. “Definitely not the worst I’ve seen. You ever try to cover one of these up on the face?”

Gavin gasped. “Who the fuck tattoos on the face?” he breathed.

“The Torrs,” the man said with a dry chuckle. “When they’re feeling particularly shitty. A bull in the most god-awful blocky style, right here on the cheek.” He motioned to his own cheek, bare except for a dot of metal. “Or on the neck. Still, I think I’d prefer that over the Stormbecks.”

Gavin went rigid beside Isaac. Isaac could hear his throat click as he swallowed, watched his lips tremble as he opened his mouth and asked, “Why… would you prefer a face tattoo over the Stormbecks?”

With an easy shrug, the tattoo artist pulled up the sleeve on his right arm and exposed the brand over his bicep: the head of a raven, surrounded by vines. By the look of the scar, it was a decade old at least.

“R-right,” Gavin whispered. “Stormbecks brand.”

“Hurts like a bitch, too,” the man said with a chuckle.

“So you were owned by my— by Benjamin Stormbeck?” Gavin croaked. His eyes swam with tears.

“Yup,” the man said. When he didn’t continue, Isaac’s gaze shifted from Gavin and pinned the artist where he stood.

“You know who he is.” Isaac’s mouth was dry. His hand inched toward his gun.

“I suspected,” the man said gently. He shrugged again. “No hard feelings, though. I mean. I heard some of the story, so I know that’s not even your real name anymore. And I heard you were in town. So it wasn’t hard to guess. But like I said. No hard feelings. You think I haven’t done shit? I wasn’t branded for no fuckin’ reason. It was because I got caught selling Stormbeck playthings to a higher bidder. So.”

Gavin went pale. “You sold—”

Isaac fell back a step, pulling Gavin and Sam with him. “Let’s—”

The man raised his hands. “Holy shit, here’s a good first impression. I did it so I could feed my little sister and her kid. And I didn’t exactly enjoy it. And once I escaped, I didn’t start again. Fuck, I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Zachariah. “Well, I might have entirely fucked this up. Sorry. But I would like to help you out, still.”

Zachariah stood frozen, his eyes darting between the man and Sam. “I… um…”

“Start over, maybe? My name’s Brandon.” Brandon held out a hand and shook Zachariah’s. “Good to meet you, man.”

Zachariah’s hand swallowed Brandon’s, but his was shaking. He squeezed Brandon’s hand in a quick handshake. “You too, Brandon,” he said, shuffling his feet.

“And you guys, too,” Brandon said, his relaxed demeanor slightly giving way. He held out his hand for Gavin to shake.

“Gavin Uriah,” Gavin said, his eyes still downcast.

“Yup,” Brandon said with a nod. He held out his hand to Sam.

“Sam,” they said, their mouth turning down at the corners. They kept their arms folded awkwardly across their chest.

“Sweet.” Brandon didn’t skip a beat. He reached out to shake Isaac’s hand.

“Isaac Moore,” Isaac said flatly. He only barely held himself back from grinding Brandon’s knuckles together in his grip. Instead, he released his hand quickly, so he would be able to reach for his gun if it turned out he needed it.

“Okay, cool,” Brandon said, rubbing his hands together and glancing at the four of them. “It really is my bad for bringing up the plaything… thing. Not exactly something I’m proud of and it’s honestly not something I bring up a lot. If you don’t feel good about moving forward, totally cool. But…” He peered at Zachariah’s tattoo again, taking a step to the side as if to look at it from a different angle. “I think this is totally doable, depending on what you go with.”

Anger and distrust churned in Isaac’s gut. The door called to him, but more than that; this entire town felt absolutely crawling with people he couldn’t – or shouldn’t – trust. Just being in the same room with someone who had sold stolen playthings made him sick to his stomach, and to know that this same man had also brought up the Stormbecks knowing who it was that stood in front of him…

After everything Gavin has been through, after having that history carved into his fucking arm…

“What do you think, Zachariah? It’s up to you,” came Sam’s voice, winding through his distrust – and below the distrust, as there always was, was fear.

Zachariah wrung his hands and looked to each of them in turn. “Um… I would… really like to have it covered,” he said weakly.

“Then let’s stay and have it covered,” Sam said with a nod. They glanced at Isaac, and he felt their gaze like an admonishment.

He forced himself to nod back, forced his shoulders to relax.

“Okay,” Brandon said with a gusty exhale. “Sounds good. Um. I do a lot of my designs freehand as long as they’re simple, but I have the stuff to do a stencil too. So. If you don’t have any ideas, um…” He pulled up a stool and sat down. Everyone else remained standing. Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “What kind of things do you do? What do you enjoy?”

“Um…” Zachariah spread his hands. “I don’t… really know. I uh… I played soccer with my siblings, but that was more for them.”

“Hm. Okay. What else?”

Zachariah glanced at Sam and blushed a furious red. “I like… Sam,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard.

“No go. I don’t do couple’s tattoos.” Brandon waved the idea away. “Used to be bad luck in case you broke up. Now I don’t do it in case one of you dies.”

Isaac let out a sound like he’d been punched.

“Way less likely up here, but a superstition is a superstition,” Brandon said with a shrug. “Let’s think of something else.”

“Um…” Zachariah twisted his hands together. “Finn and Ellis have… a cat that’s really friendly, and I like him…?”

“Mm, could be promising,” Brandon said. “What are the main colors?”

“Oh, he’s all black,” Sam said with a grin.

Brandon leapt up from the stool. “Bingo,” he said, and went to his table of supplies. He paused and glanced back at Zachariah and lifted his eyebrows. “Does that work? Black cat tattoo?”

“You… can really make this work?” Zachariah murmured, glancing to the others hopefully and back to Brandon.

“Sure thing,” Brandon said. He pulled on some gloves and began preparing the tattoo gun. “Only thing to settle is payment.”

Isaac’s stomach dropped. “We don’t have any—”

“Yeah, I know, nobody does,” Brandon said with a good-natured wave of his hand. “But I have a small tree that’s been about to fall over in my yard for a few months. I don’t have a car to pull it over and I don’t have the strength or… frankly, the fuckin’ time to chop it into firewood when it does go. Help me pull it over, then give me like four hours of chopping? Whatever amount of wood that makes?”

“Th-that’s it?” Zachariah said softly. “That’s… all you want?”

“Yeah, dude,” Brandon said with a snort. “Believe me, it’s worth it to me.”

“I can start tomorrow,” Zachariah breathed.

“You’ll start once this is healed,” Brandon laughed. “You don’t want a tattoo this big getting infected. Especially not up here where I don’t have a lot of the stuff I would need to treat it.”

“Thank…” Zachariah swallowed hard and sank into the tattoo chair. “Thank you.”

Brandon turned around and rolled his tray of supplies closer to the tray. “Oh yup, just make yourself comfortable. I already wiped the chair down before you got here.” He gestured to the stools along the wall. “The rest of you want to have a seat?”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and gave Zachariah a reassuring squeeze on his arm. They and Gavin each went to a stool and sat down.

“I’ll stand,” Isaac said coldly.

Brandon shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sit down if you feel woozy.” He poured disinfectant over a cloth and smoothed it over Zachariah’s exposed shoulder. “Did the old tattoo heal okay?”

“Um, yeah,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just a little itching. The Storm— um. They gave me a good tattoo cream for the healing process.”

“At least there’s that,” Brandon said with a one-shoulder shrug, peering at the tattoo again. “Let me just…” He uncapped a black marker and drew a few swooping lines across Zachariah’s shoulder. “There. That’ll be the general idea. Like I said, I can add more detail if you want, but…” He stripped off his gloves and passed Zachariah a mirror. “Take a look. Do you—”

“How did you do that?” Zachariah whispered, eyes wide, staring in awe at the mirror in his hand.

Sam jumped up off their stool. “They me see,” they said, grinning. They stared at the drawing on Zachariah’s shoulder. “I… wow. I didn’t… so you’ll fill in that part and that part?” They held out their left hand to point.

“Okay, now I have to see,” Gavin said as he slid off his stool, too. His eyes widened as he looked at Zachariah’s shoulder. “It’ll be…” He wet his lips. “It’ll be like it was never there.”

Isaac ground his teeth and stepped around Zachariah, unable to contain his curiosity. The drawing was simple, but the lines were clear; once they were filled in, the image of Nata curled on Zachariah’s shoulder would fully cover the black Stormbeck crest that marred it now. Peeks of Zachariah’s skin would even show through to show the cat’s eyes, nose, and whiskers, and his tail curled around Zachariah’s bicep.

“I love it,” Zachariah rasped. “Seriously, I… I love it. Let’s do it.”

Brandon clapped his hands together. “Awesome. Let’s do it.” He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and switched on the tattoo gun, dipping the tip of it into the small pot of jet-black ink beside him. “We’ll take this at your pace, okay? Shouldn’t take too too long, but if you need me to slow down or if you need to just tap out, no problem. We can always go again another time.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. Tap out?

Zachariah nodded vigorously and pushed out a slow breath. Sam pulled their stool forward and reached out, taking his other hand. Isaac watched in confusion. They’re acting like he’s about to give birth, what—

The needle touched Zachariah’s skin and he let out a hiss.

Isaac fell a step forward, his eyes fixed on the needle in Brandon’s hand. “Does that hurt?” he said, before he could stop himself.

“It’s…” Zachariah’s eyes went wide and he stared up at Isaac. “N-no,” he stammered. “No. It doesn’t. I… it’s not that bad, I promise it’s—”

“But it hurts,” Isaac said weakly. “Right? Like, does it always hurt?” He could feel Sam’s gaze on his face, but he ignored it.

Brandon wiped his mouth on his shoulder. “Depends on the person, and on the body part getting tattooed. And on what’s being done. But yeah, tattooing hurts, man. It’s needles going into your skin at like 10,000 times a second.” He chuckled and glanced up at Isaac. He immediately sobered when he saw the expression on Isaac’s face.

“Do you…” Isaac swallowed dryly. “Do you tattoo over scars?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Brandon said, and turned back to his work. “I work in the North. If I didn’t work with scars, I wouldn’t have a job.”

“I mean… do you…” Isaac’s hand shook as he fumbled for his sleeve. He wordlessly pulled his sleeve up to reveal the scars at his wrist and forearm.

Brandon paused his tattooing and looked at Isaac’s arm. He looked for a long time, so long that Isaac flushed with embarrassment and yanked his sleeve back down. Then, Brandon drew in a deep breath and said, “Of course I do work over those kinds of scars, man. But I can’t tattoo over broken skin. You’re gonna have to stop doing that if you want any work done by me.” Without another word, he turned back to Zachariah. He switched on the machine again and deftly moved it over Zachariah’s skin, wiping, tattooing, wiping, tattooing.

Isaac fell a step back and sank onto the stool next to Gavin. His scars prickled where the air had touched them. Still, as he watched Brandon work, he imagined how it might feel to have a needle slide into his skin 10,000 times per minute leaving ink in its wake, making designs instead of scars. He shivered as Gavin slid his fingertips against his palm and laced their fingers together.

“You doing okay?” Sam said gently.

“Yeah,” Zachariah said with a tight smile. “Really, it’s not bad at all.”

“Damn,” Brandon murmured, as if to himself. “This is gonna be a really cool piece.”

Continued here

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[shanastoryteller]

Dean’s minding his own business, sipping on a beer and leering at the bartender, when a guy that admittedly has about four inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him storms over and shoves him in the arm.

He tenses, getting to his feet and preparing for a fight even as he’s wondering what he did to piss him off. Maybe the bartender’s his girl? Jesus, Dean was just looking, he can’t get mad at just looking when his girl look likes that.

“Dude, what the hell?” the guy demands. “I know you’re pissed at me right now, but just leaving me back there – do you know how many bars it took to find you? You’re a jackass.”

He’s not taking a swing, instead standing with crossed arms – fuck, this guy is huge, he’d really like to avoid a fight here – and scowling at him, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at him. Dean wishes he had any idea what was going on right now. “Look, man, relax.” The guy’s eyes narrow, his shoulders lifting and expanding as he takes in a deep breath, as if he needs any help to look bigger. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fuck off.” He presses his lips together, somehow appearing smaller in the next moment without actually moving. “Look, I know you’re mad about heaven, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear, but you can’t just walk off and turn off your phone. I figured you were just being an ass, but something could have happened to you. If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know you’re ignoring me.”

The guy doesn’t look like he’s tweaking, or suffering some sort of head injury. His eyes are clear and his voice is steady. But Dean has no idea what he’s talking about. “Dude, you’ve really got me confused with someone else.”

“Dean!” he snaps, which woah, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says. “How do you know my name?”

He stares at him, uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t come across Zachariah or a witch or something in the past couple hours?”

He doesn’t know who Zachariah is, but the casual mention of witches makes him frown. Is this guy a hunter or something? He figures he’d remember meeting him, but maybe not.

“Everything okay over here?” Dad’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, and Dean shifts enough to see him giving the guy a hard stare that has sent more than one man running in the other direction.

Dean almost rolls his eyes – he’s thirty one years old, he doesn’t need his dad coming over to save him – but he makes the effort so rarely that Dean can’t help but be warmed by it.

The guy pales, mouth dropping open as he stares at Dad like he’s seen a ghost. “You – Christo.”

Okay, definitely a hunter. Dad raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a demon.”

The guy grabs for Dean, yanking on his hand. Dean jerks back, but he’s already gotten his long fingers around his ring. He pulls it off and Dean is about to break his jaw to get it back, but he tosses it to Dad, who catches it on instinct. Dean doesn’t get it until he does. His ring is silver. He’s checking if Dad is a shifter, which okay, that’s one thing. Dean’s more concerned about how he knows his ring is silver. The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “Dad?”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. Dean should push him off. “What,” his gaze drops down, and if possible he goes even paler. “Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Dean looks down, sees the guy’s eyes stuck on his amulet. “What?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, biting on his lower lip. “Is this some sort of – but you’re still hunters. Is Mom alive?”

Dean flinches.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That’s enough. You walk this off or whatever, but you do it somewhere else–”

“Dad, it’s me,” he says plaintively. “It’s Sam. Your son.”

Dean doesn’t remember moving, only that the next moment his hands are fisted in the front of this asshole’s shirt, his blood thrumming under his skin. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

He puts his hands on Dean’s wrists, stupid earnest and soft and Dean’s going to kick his ass. “Dean. It’s me. I have to exist in this world, right? The demon was after me, if I wasn’t here then there wouldn’t have ben a fire, Mom wouldn’t have died, you guys wouldn’t be hunters. I have to be around somewhere.”

Dean tries to shove him away, but he won’t let go of his hands. “Shut up! You don’t – don’t talk about my family.”

The worst thing he ever did, his biggest failure. Sometimes the weight of it gets to be so heavy that it feels like it should be cracking his ribs, pressing his heart until it bursts. Sometimes he wishes it would.

He swallows before letting go with one hand and reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It takes Dean a moment to see it’s his amulet, the one he’s worn since he was twelve years old, back when Bobby still talked to them. “My name is Samuel Winchester. I was named after my mother’s father. I was born on May 2, 1983. When I was eight years old, Bobby gave me this amulet. He said it was a protection charm. I was originally planning to give it to Dad for Christmas, but he didn’t show up. Another in a long line of disappointments, right? So I gave it to you instead. Because even when you’re being a jerk, you’ve never let me down.”

Dean’s eyes are burning. He tries to shake off his grip, but he won’t let go. Why is Dad just standing there? “Stop! Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing–”

“No game,” he says, gentle voice a counterpoint to the grip that’s absolutely going to bruise. “I need you to believe me, Dean, please–”

“My brother died when he was six months old,” he cuts him off. “Samuel Winchester is dead. He’s been dead for twenty six years.”

His fault, his fault, all his fault. If he’d just listened to Dad –

“Not where I’m from,” he says, and it’s crazy, it’s all crazy. “Please. Ask me anything. I’ll prove it. Hell, let’s go to a clinic, we can take a DNA test. I’m Sam. I’m your brother. And I need your help.”

“You mentioned a demon,” Dad says quietly.

The guy, who’s not Sam, who can’t be Sam, tears his eyes away from Dean to look at Dad. “Yeah. Azazel. The yellow eyed demon.”

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth. “I never told anyone about that.”

Dean snaps his head towards Dad. “What? You said you didn’t know what killed Mom! That we were searching for it!”

“We are,” Dad says. “It never resurfaced again. I’ve been looking for the signs.”

The guy frowns. “He started up again when I was twenty two.”

“Not here,” Dad says, looking him up and down, something hungry in his eyes.

Dad believes him. Dad thinks that this is Sammy.

“Let’s discuss this back at the room,” Dad says. “Come on.”

He heads towards the door, sure that he’s going to be followed. The – Sam, maybe Sam, he rolls his eyes, but goes after him. He only stops when his grip on Dean’s wrist jerks him back, because Dean’s not moving, can’t make himself move. He flushes, letting go of Dean finally, but he takes a step closer. His eyebrows pull together in concern, and now that Dean’s looking, he sort of sees it, sees the planes of Dad’s face and his eyes in this stranger with his brother’s name. “Hey, are you okay?”

No.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward, shoulders hunched.

Sam falls into step beside him easily, matching his strides like it’s second nature. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to pretend it means nothing.

[likopinina]

made purely for fun because this is very easy and uncomplicated and everyone everywhere knows this

an extra:

[seasononesam]

You know there's no other choice. There’s never been a choice.

[scoobydoodean]

We didn't lie. We just avoided certain truths to manipulate you.

Supernatural | 5.16 & 5.22 + 5.18

Dean The Narrative Heart [ 15 / ?] 

Sam's Motivations [ 21 / ? ]

[shallowseeker]

Don't you love that when Zachariah throws classist, fetishistic bullshit at Adam, it spectacularly backfires?

///

Zach almost LOSES Adam with this line. Why?

ZACHARIAH: So you know you can’t trust them, right? You know Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other, right? ADAM (looks suddenly steely, staring through Zachariah): I don’t know. They said a few things about you. ZACHARIAH (becomes visibly angry): Really?

///

Zach has misread Adam's sense of class. That nice home that Adam and his mom have together came at a huge sacrifice: their time together.

Adam is, at his core, the son of a single mom. His whole childhood is colored by it, and he's well-acquainted with the inevitably rude/incestuous "mama's boy" taunts it comes with.

This was telegraphed and set up earlier in the episode:

ADAM: You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed.

Yeah, Adam "read" Zachariah's taunt for the filth it was.

[pssy-wagn]

Day 16: Falling

S06E20 The Man Who Would be King

S07E21 Reading is Fundamental

S08E22 Sacrifice

[crookedmime]

Dean, we have a problem.

[beanymachine]

Season 4 Doodles: Part 1 || Part 2

[geminison]

Smile and wave tactic doesn’t seem to work on your new coworker, Darling, gotta come up with something else

I’m not yet that far into the game to know everything about these guys and their shared history but a scene where quirky yet manipulative scientist is unsuccessfully trying to befriend a field agent whose suspiciousness helps him survive seemed like a funny idea to me

[spn-rewatch-ventzone]

Watching Point of No Return is like yeah Adam really is a Winchester in behavior but it’s also like yeah Zachariah is right, the boys will never value Adam over each other despite him being blood

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 34

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: the final arc, HMS ToriVera, fluff, wedding dresses, surprise party, recovery, IRIS IS HERE, breastfeeding a baby, chronic pain, permanent injury, medication, weight gain as recovery, tattoos

~

Tori was a fucking vision in her dress. She was more than a vision. Although, every comparison that came to Vera’s mind came from the old world, felt like an imperfect description of the perfection standing in front of her: a queen, a duchess, a syndicate bride.

Beautiful, Vera thought as tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She looks beautiful.

Tori stood in front of the mirror and did a twirl. The dress hugged her waist and fanned out from her hips, floating around her like a dream. Edrissa hummed with delight and jumped up and down.

“Do you like it?” she whispered.

“I love it,” Tori said, beaming. “It’s perfect. It’s… Edrissa, it’s absolutely amazing.”

Edrissa looked like a child as she shrieked and clapped her hands. Tears shimmered in her eyes, too. “The colors match perfectly, too, I made sure of it. The purples have matching undertones.”

Vera had no idea what that meant, but she smiled, caught in the wave of Edrissa’s infectious joy. Her mind strayed to her own dress that hung in Edrissa’s closet, draped in muslin. It was different from Tori’s, a flowy purple-black silk dress that showed off her arms, with a slit running all the way up her thigh. She had to agree with Edrissa, though: the two dresses would match each other, perfectly.

Vera stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tori’s waist. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured into Tori’s hair.

Tori chuckled and turned her head to kiss Vera’s cheek. “You like it?”

“I love it.” Vera kissed Tori’s lips. “I love you.”

Edrissa looked at them both over her clasped hands. “We can start planning the wedding now,” she sighed.

Vera laughed. “Sure, once we’re done with—”

Tori elbowed her.

“—making sure you have a good birthday!” Vera recovered.

Edrissa’s eyes glittered. “Of course. I’ll help with the planning. I’ll make sure it’s all perfect.”

“We know you will,” Tori said, smiling at Edrissa in the mirror. “It’s going to be wonderful.”

Vera gave Tori a squeeze, and then forced herself to step away. She could have held Tori and stared at her in the mirror for the rest of the night. “We should get going,” she said, keeping her voice as casual as possible. “Before we… lose the light!”

Tori concealed her smile and tried to reach behind her. “Sure,” she said. “Help me?”

Vera’s fingers tingled as she fumbled at the buttons at the back of the dress.

“You’ll… do you want to try them together tomorrow?” Edrissa asked, so obviously hopeful that it made Vera feel guilty.

“That sounds nice,” Vera said, helping Tori step out of the dress. “I’d love to see these together.” She grabbed the hanger and gently hung up the dress again. Edrissa stepped forward and smoothed the wrinkles from the front and back, staring lovingly at the length of it.

“You did good work, Edrissa,” Vera said warmly. She pulled Edrissa into a hug as Tori quickly dressed herself.

“You really think so?” Edrissa said, resting her head on Vera’s shoulder.

Vera trailed her fingers up and down Edrissa’s back. “Yeah. Really, really good. Phenomenally good. It’s exquisite.”

“Truly,” Tori said. She joined the two of them and wrapped her arms around them both.

Vera took a deep breath. We are so late. “Shall we?” She squeezed the other two once, then stepped away.

Edrissa’s eyes darted between the two of them, as if she was trying to read their minds. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Um, sure,” she said. “Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

∴

Thank god for spring, Vera thought, tilting her head back in the evening breeze. The sun had nearly gone down, but they had more light every day. The snowpack in the streets had melted and turned to mud under their boots. A million golden-green shoots peeked out from the dark soil, promising flowers and weeds in another month. And, perhaps, most importantly, it was warm enough outside that they could walk around in just a jacket without freezing their fucking tits off.

“Fuck, this winter was rough,” Vera said, mostly just thinking out loud.

“You think so?” Tori said, sounding surprised.

“You don’t?” Vera glanced at Edrissa, then back at Tori. “I don’t know, it was cold as hell and it snowed more than I’ve ever seen…”

“Oh.” Tori shrugged and leaned against Vera. They bumped hips as they walked down the street. There was no one out, but that’s because pretty much everyone who lived in Laporte was already at the party. “I thought you meant… No, I see. Yeah, the weather was pretty bad.”

Vera’s eyebrows pulled together. “What did you mean?”

Tori reached out and took Edrissa’s hand with her free one, her other arm still wrapped around Vera’s waist. “I mean… we were all together over the winter. And safe. It was nice.”

“Ah.” Vera nodded once. “Yeah. That was… that was nice.”

“And having people nearby,” Edrissa piped up. “That was really nice, too. Especially Meredith. You know she let me babysit her kids whenever she worked at the general store?”

Vera smiled. “I did know that.” Edrissa had only brought it up about once a week since it started happening. Still, it was nice to see her so happy. Vera would never complain about that.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been working there with her!” Tori said, giving her hand a squeeze. “She’ll be handing you the reins of that place in no time.” She laughed.

Something passed across Edrissa’s face that Vera didn’t quite catch before Edrissa said, “Yeah… maybe.”

Vera decided to let it go. It was her birthday, after all. Besides, they were close enough to the general store that pretty soon Edrissa was going to notice that—

“It’s closed?” Edrissa said, sounding dismayed.

Vera wet her lips. “Hm. So it is. Maybe she closed up early today.”

Edrissa stared at Vera, worry and confusion written all over her face. Vera thought about spilling the beans right then, just to spare the poor girl – and herself.

“Maybe she went to the post office to check the mail,” Tori said, the picture of innocence. “I bet you that’s where she is. Want to swing by there and see?”

Edrissa didn’t look convinced. “I guess…” she murmured, chewing her lip. She peered around at the other shops. “Why… Is everyone closed?”

“I mean, it’s pretty late in the day,” Tori said smoothly. “Don’t people usually close up shop around this time?”

“I guess…” Edrissa said again, looking even less convinced than she did a moment ago. The post office was in view. Golden light shone from the windows in the near-dusk. “Hm,” Edrissa said. “It looks like someone’s there…”

“We should see if it’s her!” Tori said cheerfully, pulling Edrissa forward. Vera got pulled along at Tori’s side, too, and she felt a wash of relief at moving faster.

No wonder we’ve never done a surprise party. This is stressful as hell.

Or I’m just getting soft. I used to get shot at on the reg, is this all it takes to stress me out now?

She smiled in spite of herself. This was the most stressful thing she’d done in weeks. It was nice. She could get used to it.

As they drew nearer to the post office, she could see the shapes of people moving around inside. Edrissa squinted to get a better look. “Uh… did the mail just come? It looks like there are a few people there.”

“Don’t know, let’s go find Meredith!” Tori said, an almost manic edge to her voice.

Vera had to laugh. She stumbled to keep up as Tori practically dragged Edrissa down the sidewalk to the building. Tori threw a grin back at Vera.

God, I love you. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.

They approached the door. Tori stepped in front of Edrissa, subtly pushing her back so that when the door opened, everyone inside would have an extra moment to situate themselves before Edrissa walked in. Vera took the hint and pulled Edrissa behind her as well. Tori opened the door.

There was a sudden shuffle as dozens of people simultaneously looked up, gasped, and dashed into place. Tori and Vera stepped into the doorway, one right after the other. Edrissa stepped in right behind them. Her face was a mask of exasperation.

She huffed, “What’s going on? Is Meredith even—”

“SURPRISE!” everyone yelled in unison.

Edrissa shrieked and fell back, almost landing on her rear end. Only Vera’s arm around her shoulders saved her. Tears sprouted in her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she hopped up and down.

“No way!?” she gasped. “You actually did it?”

Gray stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “You said this was your favorite sort of party, right?”

“Right,” she said, swiping at her cheeks. “Oh my god, I just can’t believe you… did it.”

“Took your sweet time,” Ellis said sardonically. Vera threw them a glare. They rolled their eyes and motioned to the baby nursing at their breast. “What?” they said, but their tone was softer now. “I’m the one with sore tits and a hungry three-month-old.”

“We’ll behave,” Finn said with a smile at their partner, their hand gently resting on the white-blonde peach fuzz on the nursing baby’s head. “Right?”

Ellis threw a grudging smile at Finn. “Let’s settle for, ‘we’ll keep her happy,’ how about that?” Finn kissed the side of Ellis’s head.

“Happy birthday, Edrissa,” Sam said, stepping forward next. They had their sling on today, Vera noted. And by the way Zachariah hovered at their shoulder, she had to guess it was probably a pretty bad pain day for them. Still, they were moving pretty well. Their skin was dry, not shiny with sweat, and their eyes were clearer than when they were several Percs deep.

When Sam broke the hug, Vera sought their gaze. Their curls fell into their eyes. Might be time for another haircut.

“How’s it going, Sam?” Vera said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Sam grew in a slow breath. “Good, I think,” they said. Vera forced herself not to glance at the sling. If Sam was going to be using it forever, then she couldn’t make a big deal of it every time they brought it out. She still wasn’t used to seeing them in it, even after a year. “Finn started me on a new medication today.”

Vera’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s right hand opened against their chest, slowly closed again. “It’s specifically for nerve pain. And it seems to work… pretty damn well.”

“Oh,” Vera breathed. “Sam, that’s… that’s amazing news.”

“Yeah,” they said with a smile. “Good thing too. When I woke up, I thought I wouldn’t be able to come to this. Couldn’t even get out of bed. But now I’m upright and sentient.” Their grin widened.

“That’s so, so good, Sam,” Vera said. She squeezed their uninjured shoulder. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

Now that the birthday girl was here, Vera made her way against the flow of the small crowd of people gathering around her. Someone got some music going; she instantly recognized Edrissa’s favorite song. She spotted Isaac and Gavin leaning against the wall, partially shrouded in shadow. She smiled and made a beeline over to them.

“Hey, you two,” she said warmly, pulling Gavin into a hug first and then Isaac. “Good to see you.” It had only been about a week since she had seen them last, but she had lived side by side with Isaac for five years and Gavin for six months before they had gotten their separate houses in Laporte. As nice as it was to have her own space, she missed them both.

“You too,” they said at the same time. They glanced at each other and both burst out laughing.

Vera smiled at the both of them. The dark circles under Gavin’s eyes had all but faded, although the scars Daniel Schiester had made new on his skin remained pink and tender-looking. He no longer looked sickly and weak, thanks to Gray and Isaac’s gentle encouragement to eat as much as he wanted for the past eight months. Isaac’s body, too, had taken on softer planes the longer they had all had been safe. His stomach was a little rounder, the angles of his jaw less harsh. It was a relief to see. And – the most distinctive change – tattoos marked Isaac’s arms from wrist to shoulder. Lilies, tulips, orchids, and daffodils wound across his skin like a tapestry. Vera couldn’t even see the scars underneath. They might as well have disappeared.

“This is new,” Vera said, reaching for Isaac’s hand and turning it over. There was a new tattoo on the inside of his left forearm – or, rather, new shading within the outline of a tulip that had already been there.

“Yup,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Just got it done a week ago. It’s in the itchy stage, and holy shit, it’s taking everything I have not to scratch.”

“But you won’t,” Gavin said, nudging him. “Unless you want another infection, and then Brandon really will fight you.”

“Probably,” Isaac said with a laugh. “And I probably wouldn’t even stop him. Fuck, that shit sucked.”

“I didn’t know you got an infection,” Vera said, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “When?”

“After my first one,” Isaac said. “It was a small one, and it went away after I did what Brandon told me to do. But the tattoo came out looking… well.” He pulled his short sleeve up, revealing a slightly smudged-looking leaf on his shoulder. “It messed up the ink a little bit.”

“Jesus,” Vera huffed.

“Yeah.” Isaac released his sleeve. “Okay, maybe it was more than a small one. And it’s pretty rare for it to mess up the ink, but it did. Brandon was pissed. He…” Isaac cleared his throat. “‘Come on, man, I guess it’s bad that you could die from this. More important, you messed up my work.’”

Vera had never held a conversation with Brandon, so she had no idea if the impression was accurate. It must have been good, though, because it had Gavin in hysterics. Isaac grinned and pulled Gavin close so he could press a kiss into his hair.

“You two are adorable,” she said dryly.

Gavin flushed scarlet and buried his face against Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac’s cheeks burned a little pink.

“Vera!” Edrissa’s voice rang out over the noise of the party. “Oh, Vera!”

Vera turned to see Edrissa charging through the crowd, dragging Tori behind her. “Yeah?”

Edrissa stopped at the edge of the partygoers when she saw Vera talking to Isaac and Gavin. She swallowed hard and beckoned Vera over with her hand.

Vera leaned forward to kiss Isaac’s cheek, then Gavin’s. “I’ll be back,” she said. “I’m needed.”

“Good luck,” Isaac said, hanging back. Vera poked him in the ribs.

Vera crossed to Edrissa and took her waiting hand. “Yes, my love?” she said, offering her a smile.

“Vera,” Edrissa huffed, as if she was out of breath. “Oh, please say you’ll do it. The party is already planned, there’s food, everyone’s here, there’s music, and I finished your dresses…”

Vera quirked an eyebrow. “Say I’ll do… what?” She glanced at Tori. Tori was looking back at her with the most radiant smile she had ever seen.

“Vera…” Edrissa looked like she was about to burst into tears. “You and Tori should get married tonight!”

Vera’s mouth went dry. “Oh,” she croaked, glancing from Edrissa to Tori and back. “Oh,” she said again. “I… Edrissa, I don’t want to ruin your birth—”

“You wouldn’t be ruining it,” Edrissa said in a rush. “I want you to do it. It would be so perfect. It would be the perfect timing. Vera… come on, Vera, Tori already said she would…”

“Ah, hang on, I said I was game if Vera was,” Tori was with a laugh. “Let’s—”

“Yes,” Vera whispered. Her voice didn’t carry over the music and the joyful crowd. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Y-yes,” she said. “Fuck yes, Tori, let’s get married tonight.”

Edrissa let out a high-pitched squeal and danced in a circle. “Yes!” she screamed. “Yes. Oh my god. Yes. Okay. I’ll go back to the house and—”

“I’ll go back to the house,” Gray said, appearing at Vera’s side. They gave her a wink. “You stay here and enjoy the party, Edrissa, it was planned for you. What did you need from the house?”

“The dresses,” Edrissa sighed. “They’ll need the dresses. And my sewing kit, just in case.”

“And the rings,” Vera said with a shaky voice. She realized she was grinning like an idiot. “They’re in my nightstand.”

Gray nodded. “You got it,” they said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I can’t believe it,” Edrissa said, swooning. “I can’t believe you’re getting married tonight!”

“Neither can I,” Vera said. She pulled Tori into a fierce kiss, not caring who was watching. “Neither can I,” she murmured against Tori’s lips.

Continued here

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[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural S04E22 Lucifer Rising

Dean sulking 😂 meanwhile Bobby is trying to knock some sense into him

Dean to Bobby about Sam: "i'm not even sure if he's still my brother anymore, or if he ever was." Justice for Sam. If Dean can say this about Sam, Sam should be allowed to say "if you want to work, let's work but if you want to be brothers...."

somebody please tell me how Azazel possessed that priest? I'm assuming he must wear a cross. Does hallowed ground and crosses not work on Azazel? Might also explain how Lilith was in the convent but sometimes the demon lore, especially around Azazel is confusing

I loveeeeee Sam on demon blood.. I mean that flare of arrogance that he has when he feels all powerful over the demons, damn!

I realised something.. Sam is actually mean/cruel to Ruby. Yes, he stopped Dean from killing her but only because he deemed her useful. Otherwise Sam is usually just tolerating her because he has to. Notice how he usually is snarky towards her.

But I love the powerplay that Sam is when he is on demon. The hold he has, he can torture demons with his mind! Demons who come from hell, turning into a pitiful begging mess under Sam!

and how hot is it that Sam doesn't need devil's trap to hold down a demon

Sam probably is the most not-normal character with the most normal voicemail: It's Sam. Leave me a message 😂😂

that scene where Lucifer talks to Azazel through a dead nun is so creepy

Ruby to Sam: What are you, 12 year old girl? Just play it already.

Sam: mind your own business 🤣

Ooohh Sam gutting and drinking a woman, knowing she is possessed and there's a person in there is so, so cold!

Omg! Did anyone else noticed how the warm lighting in the angelic greenroom fades to dull grey when Zachariah tells him the truth about the seals?

that voicemail needed to be resolved! 😭

Speaking of inconsistencies, the angel banishing sigil should have cast Cas away too right?

Lilith is the final seal was such a good plot twist!!

the whole sequence of Sam killing Lilith was so amazing! Sam's victory arrogance, Lilith's terror, Sam's racing heartbeat, Dean's desperation, Lilith lighting up from the inside, Sam's confusion, Ruby's insistence, Sam's eyes turning black, Lilith's blood making intricate pattern, Ruby's short lived victory and Sam's regret

[weanwinwhester]

he's the boss!

fade into you - mazzy star

[morganaconda]

[scoobydoodean]

Zachariah is so focused on Dean in the end of "It's A Terrible Life" that it's easy to think that Sam doesn't mean anything to him and he isn't trying to influence Sam in any way. Sam wanted to drink demon blood and work with Ruby and hunt before this episode and he still wants to do the same things during and after, so it's easy to think that there is nothing here Sam is supposed to "learn" from Zachariah and he's kind of just along for the ride as nothing more than a tool in Zachariah's arsenal to get through to Dean after Dean's breakdown at the end of "On The Head Of A Pin"—to prove to Dean that he wants to be a hunter and it's where he's happiest.

As a result, when we ask ourselves questions like, "Why do they throw in that Dean Smith went to Stanford?" Our answers tend to focus on why Dean would want to have gone to Stanford.

Think about what Zachariah actually wants to happen though. He wants Lucifer to be freed, he wants the brothers relationship to break down (4.22), he wants the apocalypse to happen and for Sam and Dean to become the vessels for Lucifer and Michael.

There is a lesson for Sam in the "It's A Terrible Life"... but the lesson is intentionally very subtle, because what Zachariah wants Sam to take away from this episode is that Sam means nothing to him.

Zachariah wants Sam to feel that to the angels, Sam is nothing more than a loser in a dead-end customer support job in a tiny cubicle with all the other insignificant little worker bees. Meanwhile, Dean is the angels prize. Dean is sitting pretty in an executive-level marketing role on the upper floors. Dean is important to the angels. Dean matters. Dean is special. Sam is loser—he doesn't get an important role. He doesn't get respect. He doesn't get recognition. He doesn't get to meet Zachariah—Castiel's superior—at the end of the episode because he isn't important enough to meet Zachariah personally like Dean is. He only gets to hear it from Dean afterward. He gets to hear that Zachariah gave Dean a (deeply condescending) pep talk about how important Dean is and how special Dean is and how he'll succeed and do everything he's destined to do. Dean gets to hear the things that Sam wants so desperately for someone to tell HIM.

These details are added to make Sam feel more disrespected and minimized by the angels, to make him more jealous of Dean's lofty "righteous man" title. They are added to make Sam angry and to increase his resentment toward Dean.

The Stanford comment is an extra cruel jab. Getting into Stanford was something Sam would have worked very hard for. It was a tangible reward—recognition of his intelligence and talent and effort. It was probably something Sam took a lot of pride in and found extremely validating during a period where Sam always felt like a disappointment to John (1.08). Zachariah simply takes his accomplishment away and gives it to Dean. Sam already thinks people should be paying more attention to him—appreciating the power the demon blood has given to him. He's already said he's stronger and smarter and braver than Dean (4.14, 4.16) and nobody is listening... no one is recognizing that he's the better brother—he's going to be the hero who stops the apocalypse! Giving Sam's schooling to Dean is a way of reinforcing Sam's ego—his belief that Dean is being assigned traits and roles that belong to HIM. It is a tangible reinforcement of his belief that he is better than Dean and Dean is stealing his valor.