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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filled: the runaway bunny 2/3 ACTUALLY
2001.
--
Sam Winchester is wise beyond his years.
All of his teachers agree. Have been agreeing, since he was pre-K. So it's a little funny Sam gets it written into his college letters of recommendation.
"Might as well applied when you were four, if that's the case." The words have a venomous bite to them. Dean's not buying into Sam's latest project. He's got one of Sam's notebooks, and he runs his fingers through it like he's trying to inflict violence on the ratty thing.
He's being an ass, as usual. Sam resists the urge to punch him out, because Dean's angry enough he might actually play to win, and Sam's too reticent to match him, because he just doesn't fucking care at this point.
He lets Dean read aloud. Nasally, in some prissy tone Sam imagines must be Dean's idea of a Sam Imitation. "I've toured the Deep South and the northmost reaches of New England, but California--Sam, this is shit."
"I'd like to see you do better."
"No, seriously. This is shit. Why are you--what'd you think you're even going to--"
"Dean, this track we're on? With Dad? I know where it's headed. Nowhere, same as always."
"Oh, and where's yours headed?" Dean folds his arms. It's a challenge, and one Dean doesn't think he can lose--he's got family, and blood, and banshee in Missouri. Pack up; you can take your AP test there, instead on his side, which he clearly believes is an infallible trilogy.
Sam holds his arms out wide. Shrugs, with an exaggerated roll of his shoulders. "California, apparently."
And Sam walks out.
--
They're out on the turnoff, right before the highway. Sam's a little turned around, confused; otherwise, he'd have been long gone. Sound of the door slamming shut behind him rings in his head.
"You're just gonna run away. End it like that." Dean's tone is accusatory, but void of the malignant fury that had propelled it earlier. Now it's just low and hurt, keening.
Sam feels a little guilty, he really does, but he's been hearing the same thing out of Dean's mouth since January, when he mailed his application, and it's old. "Yeah, I'm running away. This you coming after me, or Dad?"
"This is me about to kick your ass to California, you don't come--"
"So where is he, then? You heard him. Well, I walked out that door, so guess what I'm not ever going to do," Sam snaps, lilts the words the same way Dad had.
He can see the pain catch in Dean's throat. Sounds like, "Sammy."
Sam turns and starts walking, the mist roiling around his sneakers, ghostly in the lamplight. His socks are wet already.
"Sammy. Look, c'mon--Dad didn't mean it like that."
"Seriously dude, what planet have you been on? Of course he did. When doesn't he?"
Dean gives him that. Pause. Puff of breath, in the early morning chill. "Just angry, is all."
And Sam is just going to college. It's not like he's going off to join a demon commune or anything. "Right, Dean. Just angry. Kind of like every day, ever, because when hasn't he been angry at me?" He can sense the petulance creeping in at the tips of his words, syllables slick with eighteen-and-angry.
"He's not angry at you." Dean stands perfectly still. He is twenty-two years of hard lines and tight-lipped anxieties. Old enough to have been there, done that and why didn't you?
"He did send you out here," Sam accuses. "What, he gonna be mad at you, too, if you don't haul me back?" Which is going to far, Sam knows he's going to far, but it's one of those nights and he just doesn't care.
"No."
"Well, there's only the two options, Dean."
And Dean stays quiet, like he's saying, no, that ain't quite right. "Sammy," he says, finally.
Sam starts running. Wet flap of his sneakers against asphalt. I am running away.
Dean doesn't follow.