all duct tape and safety pins inside

Title: Unfurl in the Wind
Author: ever_dimming
Rating: T
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam, Cas, Dean
Word count: < 30k, WIP
Summary: Sam has managed to fly under most people's radar with this for many years, but not anymore. Not since Dean unexpectedly went missing. He's been struggling more than usual, and he finds himself in a psychiatric ward, facing a diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder that he’s long avoided.
Spoilers: AU, so no specific season
Warnings: Some self-injury, as well as suicidal ideation || Psych ward / hospital life and routines || Present results of past trauma
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Supernatural

on AO3

New chapter, which somehow turned out to be the longest one yet. I don't even know. As usual, the narrative shifts between POV's, and deals with both Sam and Dean's internal struggles.

Title: Away from These Shores (11/?)
Author:ever_dimming
Genre: Gen
Summary: A simple hunt leaves Sam in an altered state no one seems able to explain – at first. Pulling him out of it is not nearly as easy as it should be, especially since Dean is dealing with his own trauma(s).
Triggers/warnings for this episode: Another character's past suicidal ideation (and then some) in one paragraph. Severe dissociation, post-trauma, flashbacks. Past violence & torture in hell and the Cage. Quick reference the Winchesters' painful upbringing.
Spoilers: The fic is standalone, but refers to the plot up to and including 8X01 here and there.
Disclaimer: Supernatural, its characters, plot lines etc. belong to their awesome creators. I am merely suggesting fun new ways in which those beloved characters could suffer and/or be comforted.

A hand touching his arm, pressing on his shoulder gently. "Sam."

He becomes increasingly aware of the distant rattle of distress, and the memory of the torment that still awaits him (not going anywhere Samuel, all we’ve got down here is time, thanks to you) floods him with panic. Stop no please go away please please.

The hand is still gripping his bicep, fingers moving like spiders on his skin, he’s trapped trapped trapped. His body reacts, muscles seizing, breathing growing rapid.

“Hey, hey. Sam, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital, you just had some tests done. Everything’s alright, you’re safe.”

He tries to speak, tries to tell them they’re wrong.