ohsam | comment fic meme!

mimblexwimble.livejournal.com posting in

Following the results of the poll we took last month (don't make it easy on us or anything, guys, haha!), we've decided to hold a comment fic meme once every three months. This gives everyone time to write and prompt to their heart's content, and allows us mods to keep up with y'all. And we're starting right now!

SPREAD THE WORD

THE RULES

→ Leave a comment here with your prompt. This is a Sam-focused hurt/comfort community, so Sam should be the one in the hurt/comforted role. Your prompts may involve sick!Sam, hurt!Sam, angsty!Sam, basically anything that results in Sam being on the receiving end of hurt/comfort. (No rules against whumping other characters as well, of course, but you have to whump Sam first. ;) )
→ In your prompt, please state your desired characters or pairings. All genres/pairings welcome, but no real-person (RPF) prompts.

Example A: “Sam, Dean, gen, set in season 2. Sam has a vision and passes out. Cue caring!Dean and limp!Sam.”
Example B: “Sam/Dean, trauma. Sam is injured on a hunt, Dean freaks out when he thinks Sam might be dead.”

→ Post as many prompts as you like - but one prompt per comment. If you've got a couple, comment with each separately.
→ 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!
→ Have fun!

THE MASTER LIST

Headache by

verucasalt123
Sam has a headache and Dean tries to make him feel better.

Taming the Dragon by

mentholpixie
Dean finds out Sam has become addicted to some kind of very hard street drug (heroin, meth, cocaine, something like that) and tries (with or without success, surprise me) to help him kick.

Light Will Guide You Home by

tahirire
Sam/Sarah Blake, anytime after they parted ways at the end of "Provenance." Because Sam needs non-monster lovin', and he's into dark-haired girls anyway.

The Shadow Dancer by

running_hot
Sam has a high fever. A monster has Dean. The rescue would be going much better if Sam could tell which things were actually happening and which were in his head.

Touched By an Angel by

mamapranayama
Fill in the gaps between when Cas took down Sam's wall in that alley, until Dean and Bobby get Sam back into the panic room.

Mo Bhràthair E A' Chantainn by

ramblin_rosie
Dean and Sam had their own language when they were children, like twins sometimes do. In long car trips, to signal each other, to communicate in close quarters without their father knowing what they were saying. It faded over time, but now, with Sam so often broken form reality and Dean desperate, remembering that language is what saves them. Post 6x22.

In My Time... by

jennytork
Sam on a spinal board. Don't mind why, how whatever, but Sam freaking out due to being strapped down, and Dean reassuring him that it will all be ok.

Eternity by

emmram
What if the cage were timeless, or outside of time, and returning to time after being timeless had major repercussions? Physiological, where all Sam's heart rate and breathing rhythms and such were fouled up; psychological, where he no longer knows how to follow a conversation or text or train of thought consecutively without jumping about. Go wild: anything from nausea and dizziness to psychosis. Maybe strong rhythms, like waves or music with a regular beat, help ground him. Or sex, if you wanted to go the pairing route.

don't let me know we're invisible by

mimblexwimble
ean finds out Sam has become addicted to some kind of very hard street drug (heroin, meth, cocaine, something like that) and tries (with or without success, surprise me) to help him kick.

Real by

brokenangel6662
Post-6x22. Sam falls apart. Dean tries to help. That is all.

Folk Rememdies by anonymous
Giant jellyfish. Sam's in the water. Dean isn't. GO!

Into the Night by

youaredriving
Sam starts sleepwalking - he walks into the cold night air (not very healthy), he hurts himself while asleep (like cutting or banging his head)

Turn Your Back by

vail_kagami
From Cas's POV. Post 6x22. During one of Sam's worst breaks, Dean clings to his brother in just another cheap motel room that make up their lives. He holds Sam and whispers and tries to soothe him, desperation radiating off him as Sam gets worse. Unseen, Castiel watches the two people who'd called him family. He either doesn't know why he feels compelled to watch them suffer like this or realizes he still feels something for them (love/remorse). Would prefer no romantic attachments.

Untitled by

verucasalt123
Sam smokes cigarettes. He knows it's a bad habit. He knows he smokes way more than he should. He keeps on smoking anyway.

Automatic Reflex by

monicawoe
Sam lifts a car. Of course, Sam throws his back out doing it.

Near Miss by

laurificus
Sam does not want to be comforted. Dean is like, 'Yeah well I don't want to make you feel better anyway'

Vegetable Pot Pie by

ennyousai
Dean has to feed up a Sam who doesn't trust the world around him. Dean is the only person he sorta kinda trusts; he won't accept food unless Dean is the one who prepares it and offers it. Cue lots of cooking!Dean, talking soothingly and acclimating Sam to a domestic routine.

To Hold Your Broken Soul by

authoressnebula
I just kind of loved remembering-hell!Sam, and would like to see more of him. Especially some physical h/c. Sam’s face is burned and he looks like he could use a Dean to clean him up and take care of him, you know? And if you want to move on to emotional h/c after that, that’s fine too.

Spiders from Mars by anonymous
Sam loses his hair (reason up to you) and he is embarrassed by his lumpy skull. Depending on the cause of the hair loss, I can actually see this as being either really lulzy or really sad and either is okay with me.

Most Likely To... by

monicawoe
Sam meets old friends from Stanford and they don't recognize him, what with him and Dean swooping in all huge and violent with guns and knives and arcane rituals to rescue them all from some horrifying eldritch creature. And then his friends are all, "OMG! It's Psycho Sam who was a closet satanist and was wanted by the FBI!" And Sam is very conspicuously injured, but he and Dean can't stop to patch him up because the eldritch creature is still trying to rip their throats out. And Sam's feelings are hurt because his old friends are scared of him now.

And They Cry to See Your Face by

honeylocusttree
Sam meets old friends from Stanford and they don't recognize him, what with him and Dean swooping in all huge and violent with guns and knives and arcane rituals to rescue them all from some horrifying eldritch creature. And then his friends are all, "OMG! It's Psycho Sam who was a closet satanist and was wanted by the FBI!" And Sam is very conspicuously injured, but he and Dean can't stop to patch him up because the eldritch creature is still trying to rip their throats out. And Sam's feelings are hurt because his old friends are scared of him now.

Cold Hard Truth by

jpunkin
Sam suddenly knows when people are lying.

Bleed as it Grows by

transfixeddream
Post-6.22. One comparatively minor issue in the mile-long list of all the ways Sam's been screwed up by the destruction of the Wall is the fact that he can't shave himself anymore. But it's eating at him, not just because he's irritated by the way being unshaven looks and feels so much as it is the principle of it-- the fact that he's so freaking scared to do something that used to be so easy before. But so much as touching a razor freaks him out because of all the unpleasant associations he now has with razors and blades in general, let alone scraping one across his face, and he can't get over it. Dean realizes it's upsetting him and decides to help out.

Alone Without You by

tattooeddevil
Sam has a terminal heart condition. Dean rents a beach house.

It's All Fun and Games by

cherry916
Sam and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Haircut

Do I Not Bleed? by

greeneyes_fan
Robo!Sam is still human, even if he doesn't sleep. He comes down with a really horrific case of the 'flu: fever, chills, that nasty cough that settles right in your chest and makes it hurt to breathe, aching muscles, the whole nine yards. Dean knows how to deal with Sam when he's sick, but Robo!Sam is a whole other matter. How do you take care of a guy who not only views this sickness as just an annoying inconvenience and resists any and all forms of caretaking, but also can't/won't sleep which is the main thing that would help?

The Language of Angels by

monicawoe
Post 6x22. Sometimes Sam's breaks aren't too disasterous, sometimes they're catastrophic. He'll scream and tremble and speak only enochian. Desperate to help, Dean, haltingly, learns some broken Enochian words so he can try to reach his brother. Gen preferred.

Pandamonium by

mamapranayama
Sam gets mauled by an escaped panda or other cuddly animal at the zoo.

The Other Brother by

radiumgirl
Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased (the reason for Adam not being the same kind of drooling mess is up to the author). Basically, Adam really really doesn't want to care and holds onto his resentment for dear life, but Sam is all psychotic and hopeless so it's kind of hard. Cue grudging compassion and Adam dragging Sam around the country, hitchhiking with truckers and stuff while trying to keep Sam's lunacy on the down-low, in search of anyone else who wants to take him, anyone at all. When he finally gets his chance to be rid of Sam for good and for keeps, he barely has one foot out the door before he notices Dean/Bobby/the psychiatric nurse/whoever trying to calm Sam down and doing it all wrong. Breaking up is so hard to do.

Big Brothers and Hot Dogs Never Mix by

cherry916
Sam gets sick in the Impala. Not just a little, we're talking projectile vomiting, splattering and making a big huge mess. Any season, but not pre-series. Gen, please.

Relief by

si_star_x
After a bad fall Sam badly bruises and/or cracks quite a few ribs, he's in agony and relies on Dean to help him through his simple everyday tasks.

Misplaced Comment Fic by

greeneyes_fan
Hilarious. Cas rocks! No wait, you rock!

Where There's Smoke by

roque_clasique
Sam smokes cigarettes. He knows it's a bad habit. He knows he smokes way more than he should. He keeps on smoking anyway.

True Colors

tifaching
CRACK. Or whatever. Castiel and Balthazar go on a roadtrip together in order to rediscover their inner peacocks. (Don't ask, it's an angel thing.) Unfortunately, things go horribly awry and Sam ends up getting pecked half to death when the peacocks turn murderous. Luckily for him, Dean is awesome.

Mirror, Mirror

purplehrdwonder
There's an old belief that you see your soul when you look into a mirror. Sam's soul has been in the Cage for hundreds of years. What does he see when he looks at his own reflection? What's in the mirror, staring back at him every morning when he tries to shave?

My life on paper

glovered
Seems like after what happened when the wall fell, Sam's brain periodically reverts to amnesia under stress. He doesn't go into a coma, but whatever random triggers he has for his hell flashbacks, his consciousness sidesteps them by becoming blank!slate!Sam.

Sam's Soul

brokenangel662
Sam's soul watches, terrified and desperately wanting to join his body as it gets dragged from the cage.

Another Point of View

ceedeeandco
Post-wall: It’s not that Sam is hallucinating so much as he’s now capable of seeing into other dimensions. Which, of course, to the untrained eye, comes off as Sam hallucinating. Dean, unfortunately, is an untrained eye, and the inter-dimensional being who might have formerly conveniently let Dean in on the secret is currently off playing God somewhere. So, Dean is going to go with the “Sam hallucinates ALL THE TIME” theory and acts accordingly. Does he ever figure it out?

Metronome

geek_chic_girl
OK, this is an odd idea I've had kicking around since 5.22. What if the cage were timeless, or outside of time, and returning to time after being timeless had major repercussions? Physiological, where all Sam's heart rate and breathing rhythms and such were fouled up; psychological, where he no longer knows how to follow a conversation or text or train of thought consecutively without jumping about.

Your Name in Lights by

honeylocusttree
What torments Sam most about his memories of the Cage, after he gets a tenuous grip on the flashbacks and fear, is how he broke there: in the worst way a Winchester could possibly break. He remembers wishing Dean was there instead of him. Dean assumes that Sam is miserable and ashamed because of something done to him, instead of anything he'd done, and Sam is inconsolable. Does Dean ever figure it out? Can Sam ever move on?

Along Came a Spider by

mamapranayama
As many cellars, abandoned houses, rotting warehouses, and other manky spaces as these guys have run through, I figure their chances of getting tagged have to be pretty high. Sam has a run-in with Lactodectrus mactrans, which in turn leads to all the fun and joy of latrodectism. Dean's there to do the motel rool triage (and the big brother thing) when the agonizing full-body cramps set in, of course. Mega-super bonus points and my eternal love for some kind of background plot, especially if it gives Sam occasion to be awesome, but mainly, I'd just love to see him in agony from Black Widow venom.

Lest Thou be Consumed by

jpunkin
After being in the Cage, Sam can't even really tell when he's been hurt, no matter how bad it is. He'll get hurt in a hunt and not know till Dean freaks and tells him he's bleeding. He'll wander off barefoot, lost in his head, and Dean will wake up and run after him. His feet will be all cut up and bloody and Dean's panicking that he doesn't know what's wrong with his brother and doesn't know how to help him. Gen preferred.

Unable to Stay by

youaredriving
Sam is a bit shell-shocked after a hunt (maybe an innocent person dies? Someone he knew/got to know?) and has blood on his hands, arms, and face. Thus, Dean has to gently remove his clothes, get him into the shower, get in after him, and bathe him. Sam, still very much out of it, is highly compliant. Afterwards, Dean gets him dressed and into bed. Maybe he cuddles with him, and/or tries to coax him out of his stupor.

Just Following Orders by

ramblin_rose
Sam shoots his father. On purpose or accident -- repercussions are going to be severe in any case.

You Never Forget Your First by

authoressnebula
The boys are arguing. And this happens to be the one and only time that Dean ever takes his anger out on Sam in a violent way. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he was really drunk. Maybe he was cursed. Maybe he was just really angry and he screwed up. The thing is, Sam actually gets hurt, and it's Dean's fault. Cue massive guilt and general awesomeness afterwards.
Brownie points if Sam thinks he deserved it for whatever reason. Or is angry about it. Or somehow scared of Dean.

The Cancer Inside by

purplehrdwonder
Dean tangles with a djinn who grants you what you want most, with a wicked sense of what it probably thinks is humor. Dean's pissed at Sam, angry, just wants Sam to shut up and listen and grovel maybe a little bit more because hey, the guy jumpstarted the apocalypse and betrayed Dean. So yeah, Dean wants that. And in this world, Dean gets just that.

Cooler Than Me by

authoressnebula
Wee!Sam (5-12) catches the eye of an infertile witch. She kidnaps him and casts a spell on him to make him believe that she is his mother.

Not Exactly Clarence by

minviendha
Sam, Cas, gen, sometime in Season 5. Sam gets sick, and Cas is the only one who notices. Sam is ignoring the problem until it goes away; cue Cas trying (awkwardly) to take care of him.

To Be Redeemed by

brokenangel6662
Sam falls apart. Dean tries to help. That is all.

Draining by

27_jaredjensen
Sam has the mother of all chest colds, a raging headache, draining fever, wracking chills. By all rights he should be in bed, but people are dying and bones need to be burned and Dean can't do it alone. So here they are, in the middle of a forest in the pouring rain, trying to light a stupid match because of course the lighter fluids all gone...you get the idea, right? One of those no good, pain in the ass, nothing going right, suck-the-life-from-your-bones days. Grumbling but protective Dean would be awesome.

Mother Instinct by

norahy
Season 2: The boys are forced to crash at the Roadhouse for a time. Sam is hurt/sick/whatever and in bad shape, and Ellen decides the poor boy needs some serious mothering.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

roque-clasique.livejournal.com

Growing up, Sam had always figured that there was a cosmic deadline on certain things; if you didn’t do them by, say, age eighteen, you’d never do them at all. Having sex, for instance. Going to Disneyland. Getting kidnapped. Smoking.

In High School he’d sometimes sit outside at lunch and watch the smokers out of the corner of his eye, marveling at the stupidity of the act – it seemed like the most futile, dangerous thing to do to yourself, with no benefits that Sam could see besides looking cool. Which, okay, was a pretty big benefit in the world of adolescence, but in the grand scheme of things, cool wouldn’t do shit for you. It wouldn’t make you taller, it wouldn’t get you into college, it wouldn’t feed you, and it sure as hell wouldn’t save your ass from getting mauled by a charging werewolf. Cigarettes did nothing except make your teeth yellow and your lungs black; they didn’t even get you high, from what Sam could tell. Fucking ridiculous, he thought, and he always marveled at the people who would willingly put such crap into their bodies.

Then he went to Stanford and fell madly in love with crazy, bitchy, perfect Molly Bell.

She was the R.A. of his freshman dorm, three years older than him, half-Korean, with a voice like a chainsaw and a body like a wrecking ball. That is to say, her body absolutely wrecked Sam. She barely came up to the top of his shoulder yet he felt about three feet tall whenever he saw her, her pink-lipsticked mouth always screeching and laughing and shouting obscenities. She was abrasive and confrontational but everyone adored her, boys and girls alike – she had that unexplainable charisma that hits some lucky people once in a blue moon, and spins a web of appeal around them that no one can resist.

Also, she was a genius. MENSA-certified and everything.

And a smoker. Camel Lights. Two packs a day. There was a bench a few feet outside the door of the dorm and Molly would hold court there, sitting and smoking with her devoted followers, dispensing advice, issuing chastisements like a benevolent queen. The best, easiest, and most frequent way to be around her was to be a smoker, too.

It started with a bummed cigarette every now and then. Sam figured, hell, he was way too smart to get addicted, and way past the age where it was even a concern. If you didn’t start smoking by eighteen, you’d never be a smoker, right?

But sitting on the bench next to Molly, smoking his bummed Camel and basking in her presence, he admitted to himself, grudgingly, that maybe cigarettes weren’t completely useless. They didn’t get him high, not really, but something about smoking, or the act of smoking, calmed him down. He always felt a little awkward in social situations, too big, no place to put his body, and it was nice to have something to do with his hands, with his mouth. Up, down. In, out. It was soothing.

November of freshman year, he bought his own pack for the first time.

It all went downhill from there.

From:

roque-clasique.livejournal.com

:::

Turns out, Sam was born to be a smoker. He just hadn’t realized it. He loved everything about it – the ritual of it, crinkling the cellophane, packing the box against his palm, sliding one out, fitting it between his lips, raising the lighter, and, god, that perfect moment when it first caught and the tobacco crackled and smoke poured down his throat like a caress, like everything was right with the world… That first drag was his favorite. No, the second one, relaxing into it – or maybe the last, especially when he didn’t have anywhere to go and he knew that last drag was just a prelude to another first on his next cigarette…

He wasn’t just a smoker. He was a chain-smoker.

Molly had graduated with nary a kiss but she’d left Sam a legacy that he could not shake, although he tried, sophomore year, telling himself he should stop “before it got too bad”; except by that point it was already bad. He woke up in the morning and reached for his cigarettes before his eyes had even focused.

He knew it was bad. Of course he knew. But it felt so good. So normal. So – apart from everything in his old life.

“I can hear it in your lungs,” Jess said one night, her head on his chest. “When you breathe, I can hear all that nicotine rattling around. Baby, when are you gonna quit?”

“After we graduate,” Sam said, like he always said. Smoking was a college thing. It had to be. Yet he felt a little thrill of panic when he thought of quitting – never smoke another cigarette again? People really did that? Shit, he wanted a cigarette just thinking about it.

But neither of them ever graduated.

:::

For the first few days back with his brother, Sam tried to hide the habit. Dean was wary around him, eager-to-please, willing to concede him anything and everything he asked for, so Sam said he needed space; he took lots of long walks. He did a bunch of tooth-brushing.

A week after the fire, he sat on the curb outside a motel room in Poughkeepsie and held a hand to his chest, breathing in smoke and wishing to god he’d quit for Jess when he had the chance; wishing he’d done that one thing for her before it was too late.

“Dude,” Dean said from behind him, and Sam froze. “I knew it,” Dean said. “Fuck, I knew it.”

“I just,” Sam tried, but Dean was shaking his head, mouth all twisted up.

“You idiot,” he said. “You fucking dumbass. You gotta stop.”

“I know,” Sam said, “I know, I will.”

“That’s what they taught you at college?” Dean demanded. “How to choke yourself?”

“Stow the lecture,” Sam snapped. “I know it’s bad for me, all right?”

“Lungs are a very important part of the human body. They help you breathe. Which helps you run. Which keeps you alive.”

“I said shut up.” Sam flicked ash off the end of his cigarette, and Dean followed the gesture with his eyes, face crumpling a little.

“Jesus, Sam,” he said. “I taught you better than this.”

“It’s not a personal insult to you, Dean,” Sam said, and fuck it, took a drag, let the smoke sift out through his nostrils. Part of him was relieved it was out in the open now, so he wouldn’t have to scuttle around like he was committing some kind of atrocity. “And I’m gonna quit, when I’m ready. I’m not ready yet.”

“I’m not giving you money for that shit,” Dean said. “Forget about using any of our credit cards.”

Sam didn’t answer. This was not an argument he cared to have. He took another drag, stared down at the burning red tip and thought about how tobacco smelled so much different than burning skin. In a way, he felt like the smoke from his cigarettes was washing away the smoke from Jess’s death, taking its place. It felt cleansing. Which was a fucked-up thing to think, and he knew it.

Dean stood over him for a while, boots planted next to Sam’s ass on the dirty concrete stoop, but Sam didn’t move to get up, and after a while Dean turned and went back inside. Sam stubbed his butt out and, after a moment’s deliberation, tapped another one out of the pack. Cupped his hands around the flame, and took relief where he could get it.

From:

roque-clasique.livejournal.com

:::

Sam tried something new that night after dinner. He put his silverware on his empty plate and slid his legs out of the diner booth.

“I’m, uh,” he said, trying to gather courage in the face of Dean’s sneer. “I’m gonna go have a smoke.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “Okay, then.”

By the time he pushed through the diner’s double doors, he had a cigarette in his mouth and his lighter poised and ready. He lit up, slit his eyes against the smoke and eyed the row of windows that sat above a bed of mulch and dying petunias. Halfway down he could see the back of his brother’s head through the glare of the glass, and he went over, knocked on the window. Dean jolted, head darting around in a way that was almost comical, and his mouth dropped open a little bit when he saw Sam.

Sam settled the cigarette on his lower lip and gave Dean two thumbs up.

Dean gave him the finger.

:::

“Dean,” Sam said, “please, I am begging you.”

“No fucking way.”

“My bladder is about to explode, dude, come on.”

“You haven’t had anything to drink since our last bathroom break, which was a mere two hours ago. So, no Sam, I’m not buying it.”

“You want me to whip it out right here?” Sam asked. “’Cause I will. I will piss all over this nice upholstery, swear to god, Dean.”

“Be my guest.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “You wanna play? We can play.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean’s furious gaze darted from Sam to the road and back again.

“You called my bluff,” Sam said around the filter of his cigarette. He started shaking his lighter. “I need a fucking cigarette. And if you won’t stop, I’ll smoke it right here.”

“Motherfucker. Put that down, Sam. Sam. Put that down. If you light up in this car so help me god I will end you.”

Sam flicked the lighter and watched the flame shoot up. “Here I go,” he said. “Gonna coat this car in nicotine. Aaaaah, it’s gonna smell so good.”

“Sonuva –” Dean wrenched the car over to the shoulder.

Victory.

:::

One morning Sam woke up and found his cigarettes in the toilet. All of them – the pack from the Impala, the pack from his duffle, the one from his jacket, and the one he’d had sitting on his nightstand. They’ve stained the toilet water yellow, or maybe Dean peed on them.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean chirped from the door of the bathroom, and Sam gave him a black eye.

:::

“It’s not working,” Sam announced. He picked at the edge of the nicotine patch on his arm. (He’d felt really bad about that black eye.)

“Give it time,” Dean told him sagely.

Sam gave it three hours.

:::

Because the thing is, it’s nice to have something he can depend on. Something that’ll always be there.

Something that goes up in flames, but doesn’t die screaming.

end

From:

mimblexwimble.livejournal.com

That last bit just - took this to another level. I love it. CAN I MARRY YOUR WRITING?

From:

roque-clasique.livejournal.com

Yes, it's been saving itself for you *g*

From:

mamapranayama.livejournal.com

This was awesome. Thanks for sharing this. :)

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