ext_57528 (
mimblexwimble.livejournal.com) wrote in
ohsam2010-05-02 08:41 pm
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Entry tags:
comment fic meme
THE RULES
→ Leave a comment here with your prompt. Because it's Sam's birthday, I'm going to say that any Sam-centric prompts are okay, even if there's not much hurt/comfort in them.
→ In your prompt, please state your desired characters or pairings. All genres/pairings welcome, but no real-person prompts.
→ Prompts can be as short or detailed as you like. Remember though - more detail means less wriggle room for the writer, which might lower the chances of someone picking up your prompt.
→ Go through the prompts! If you find one you like, write a fic for it. There's no limit to how many users can reply to a prompt, or how many prompts someone can write for.
→ When replying to a prompt with your comment-fic, put ‘filled’ in your subject line and then anything else you want, like a title if you have one/part numbers. It’s not a big deal if you forget this step, but it will make it easier for people to find your fic.
→ Anon posting enabled.
→ NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES.
→ Play nice - no flaming and no character bashing, period. Any comments that break this rule will be deleted without warning.
→ Feedback is catnip for writers. Leave some author-love!
→ No spam comments.
→ Contact one of the mods if you have a question.
→ Spread the Sam love - pimp this meme! Just copy and paste the code below:
→ Have fun!
→ In your prompt, please state your desired characters or pairings. All genres/pairings welcome, but no real-person prompts.
Example A: “Sam, Dean, gen, set in season 2. Sam has a vision and passes out. Cue caring!Dean and limp!Sam.”→ Post as many prompts as you like - but one prompt per comment. If you've got a couple, comment with each separately.
Example B: “Sam/Dean, trauma. Sam is injured on a hunt, Dean freaks out when he thinks Sam might be dead.”
→ Prompts can be as short or detailed as you like. Remember though - more detail means less wriggle room for the writer, which might lower the chances of someone picking up your prompt.
→ Go through the prompts! If you find one you like, write a fic for it. There's no limit to how many users can reply to a prompt, or how many prompts someone can write for.
→ When replying to a prompt with your comment-fic, put ‘filled’ in your subject line and then anything else you want, like a title if you have one/part numbers. It’s not a big deal if you forget this step, but it will make it easier for people to find your fic.
→ Anon posting enabled.
→ NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES.
→ Play nice - no flaming and no character bashing, period. Any comments that break this rule will be deleted without warning.
→ Feedback is catnip for writers. Leave some author-love!
→ No spam comments.
→ Contact one of the mods if you have a question.
→ Spread the Sam love - pimp this meme! Just copy and paste the code below:
→ Have fun!
THE MASTER LIST
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anonymous wrote After a Narrowly-Averted-Apocalypse, an old friend from Stanford runs into Sam Winchester at a gas station. He's surprised/disturbed by what he sees.
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anonymous wrote A witch the boys meet on a case decides to cast a spell on Sam as a gift for his birthday (she notices the guys have some communication hang ups)--he will not be able to inhibit what he says for a full day. Basically everything he thinks and feels comes spewing out of his mouth without his control. Including many thoughts of self-loathing and doubting Dean could ever love him the same after all that's happened, any other things you want, etc. Sam is mortified and feels exposed and stupid.
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Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 2/3 (?)
He doesn't know why it bothers him to think about Dean praying. He used to, and he still remembers how it felt to believe in something bigger than himself. It's like an urge, an itch, to reach out and hope to connect. To find a reason. And, if Sam's honest, he's not even sure that's what his brother's doing, anyway.
But there's an intent, a purpose, behind his brother's chronic stillness. His mind is somewhere else, and every time Sam imagines Dean's hands steepled in front of his chest, imagines him down on his knees, imagines a sacrifice that nobody would ever understand, well.
"Stop," Dean says, and Sam just rolls, moves so that his breath hits Dean's bare skin. He watches as Dean's back jerks, shoulderblades sharp and moving beneath his skin.
"No." He walks his fingers down the dip of Dean's spine. One, two, one, two, until Sam gets to the curve of Dean's jean-clad ass. "I don't want to." He makes it sing-song, teasing, he's only teasing, but the thought of Dean shrugging him off, moving away, makes him want to dig in, embed himself under his brother's skin. Warmth and blood, messy screams and Dean giving way.
Surrender, he thinks, and hears Dean grunt when his naughty fingers press deep. Dean's breath is coming faster, and Sam imagines the rabbit thump of his too-fast heartbeat. Can't see his brother's expression, though, because Dean's face is turned away, cradled in the crook of his arm.
"Dean," he says. Names have power, and he wants his brother bent and broken. He's always looked so beautiful that way. "Dean," a second time when he gets no response but determined silence. I could hurt you, he thinks, and suddenly wants to. All the times he's seen Dean bleeding and pleading at the feet of angels, and now Sam wants a piece, too. Let me hurt you.
"What? Jesus Christ." Sam sneers. The tone, he hates that bitchy tone. "What, Sam?"
Sam hums. His fingers are still, splayed against warm, trembling skin. He leans closer, til his lips brush his brother's back. "Good night," he whispers, and the heat of his words burn when they echo back across his skin.
**
Dean drives. Days and days and days of it, miles ground under the wheels of the Impala. Sam watches sunset and sunrise and the crackle pop of storms brewing, all from inside a car that never slows down.
"How far are you going to go?" He says it after Dean's turned on the radio, turned it off, turned it on but low. Then raised the volume. Every way that he could tune it he has, and Sam wants to lean over, say, I know, right into Dean's ear. But Dean's gripping the wheel, almost standing on the gas. Go, he thinks. Go as fast as you can. The storm will come anyway.
"Sam." Dean does that a lot, now. Repeats his name, over and over, staring hard at him. Like he's trying to tell Sam something, or remind Sam. Sam hasn't forgotten, though. He feels himself ebbing and cresting, all peeled back and exposed.
Sam. Sam. Sam.
And Sam wants to laugh at him, or smash Dean's head into the window. Something. But he replies, "okay." And when he closes his eyes, his brother's blood blooms cherry-red on the back of his eyelids. "Okay."
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
When they finally stop, it's to pull over beside a field. Brown, withered grass, and when the wind barrels down on them he just smells dirt, feels his hair whip into his stinging, teary eyes.
"How fun," he says, and expects Dean to laugh, smile, explain. Dean's just looking at him, though. Broken and tiny, too straight bones busting through his flesh. One touch and Sam could crack him like an egg.
Dean lunges forward, then, drags Sam's head down. "God, Sammy," and there's something about the name that prickles through him, electric currents of unease. God. Sammy. "I'm sorry." Sam thinks Dean's going to kiss him; his mouth is close enough. He can feel his brother's breath against his lips, can almost taste that stale, warm air. He's surprised by how much he wants it, how bitterly he's disappointed when Dean steps back, face wet.
Sam's eyes travel away from Dean, out across the field. The air flickers, blue white streaks racing across his vision, and he can just make out the dirt swirling in the wind transforming into tall, elongated shapes that dance behind his brother. Sweeping back and forth with the hint of wings trailing out behind them. Outstretched and murky, moving closer, reaching long fingers toward him. He wants to scream, but the wind carries his breath away.
"No," he says, but he can't move. There's a humming, a vibration through the ground, running in snaking circles around his feet. The forms multiply - five, ten, one hundred, brutal and burning. Terrifying.
He barely hears it, his brother's quiet "thank you," before the pain hits.
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Glad you liked!
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
(Anonymous) 2010-05-03 01:12 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
I do not even know how I found this but I am REALLY GLAD I did. dude, not only is this a huge emotional trip, you've got incredible imagery, subtlety, just beautiful beautiful writing. I love this so much even though it hurts a lot. fantastic.
Re: FILLED; give it up (but don't ask why); Samifer/Dean; 3/3
Glad you liked it :D