http://ohsam-mod.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] ohsam-mod.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] ohsam2016-11-02 01:33 pm
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OhSam Triple Play 2016!

It's November 2, an auspicious (if ominous) day for our darling Sam, so to herald his introduction to The Red Stuff, let's revisit an annual tradition. Welcome to the OhSam Triple Play 2016! This year, we're offering a focus on a reoccurring theme in Sam's life: blood.

"Blood" could be interpreted in many ways. Family don't end with blood. The demon blood addiction. Injury. Familial woes. Blood magicks. Simply the color red. If it can be related to blood, even vaguely? IT'S ON POINT.





BOOST THE SIGNAL





And here's how we play!

Step One (mandatory): Write a three-part prompt.
1.) Pick a setting
2.) Pick an additional character or characters (Sam is assumed, naturally.)
3.) Pick an H/C scenario, with Sam as the focus. Other characters can share the misery, but Sam should get the brunt of it. That's how we roll. :D

You can make as many prompts as your little heart desires, one set per comment, but it would probably work best if kept simple. For instance: 1.) West Virginia 2.) Dean 3.) knives, or 1.) Bobby's Panic Room 2.) Mary 3.) demon blood withdrawal.

Step Two (optional): Fill a prompt!
Participants can choose to make visual art: create a drawing, painting, photomanip, or video based around an offered prompt set. All three points must be addressed. The art can be doodled or extravagantly detailed, artist’s choice. And, of course, Sam should be the primary focus of the h/c. Please reply with your art under the prompt you choose, and either put the art beneath a cut or supply a link to it, with appropriate header and warnings! (See "Posting Guidelines" in the left sidebar.) As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD.

Step Three (optional): Fill a prompt!
Participants could also choose to write a ficlet, again with Sam as the primary victim of our dastardly h/c scenarios. (No minimum or maximum word count is required; just go where the muse takes you, as long or short as you'd like.) Again, please reply with your fic under the chosen prompt set, using the appropriate header and warnings. (See "Posting Guidelines" in the left sidebar.) As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD.

If more than one author or artist wants to work with the same prompt, have at it! The ideal goal is to make a Triple Play, where a prompt set gets both art and fic – the art potentially inspiring the fic or the fic inspiring the art. But no matter how it's sliced, we get lots of delicious Sammy h/c! Have all the fun … at Sam’s expense. ;)

The usual courtesies apply:
→ If you notice that your fic is not on the master list after a decent amount of time (say, three days), please poke us in a PM. We might have missed it.
→ 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!



Masterlist

My love will laugh with me before the morning comes by [livejournal.com profile] caranfindel
1. A deserted road
2. Jess
3. Bleeding out

Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere by [livejournal.com profile] center_galaxy
1. The Impala
2. Ghost!John
3. Car accident

Whauksis by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1. New England in the fall
2. Dean
3. The hunter hunted

Binding by [livejournal.com profile] fairyniamh
1. In a mirror
2. Lucifer
3. Banishing sigils gone wrong

Appointment in the White City by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1. A fancier than Winchester motel room
2. Balthazar
3. Sam's covered with blood. He can't remember how it happened or whose it is

Follow You Down by [livejournal.com profile] tuesdaytoo
1. A cave or mineshaft
2. Any character - except they're actually a hallucination
3. Sam's bleeding and he's got to get to the surface before he passes out. But someone's trying to prevent that.

And From The Bunker Shall Come The Anointed One by [livejournal.com profile] wetsammy
1.Bunker
2.Dean
3.Curse/Curse box

Time to say goodbye by [livejournal.com profile] amberdreams
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Descent by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. The Cage.
2. Lucifer and Michael.
3. Withdrawal. (Exactly how much blood did Sam drink before saying yes and falling in??)

Mercy by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. A church
2. Godstiel
3. Purifying the boy with demon blood as a "mercy"

To-do List by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. Bobby's house
2. Bobby and/or Dean
3. Unclean

Next of Kin by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. mental hospital
2. jody
3. next of kin

Collateral Damage by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. Bobby's house
2. John
3. A hunt goes wrong and John only has himself to blame as he cleans Sam's blood off the kitchen table they used for emergency surgery.

In the Precious Blood of the Lamb by [livejournal.com profile] laughablelament
1) A kind of Kansas purgatory
2) Dean
3) rib-cracking spiritual seizure

Fix You by [livejournal.com profile] center_galaxy
1. the impala
2. wee!dean
3. skinned knees

An Ocean Away by [livejournal.com profile] center_galaxy
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

The Collector by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. Impala backseat
2. John
3. Coughing up blood

Falling Leaves by [livejournal.com profile] center_galaxy
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Tide Rolls In by [livejournal.com profile] broken_cinders
1. A lighthouse
2. Dean
3. Permanent injury

Battlefield Dressing by [livejournal.com profile] wetsammy
1. College dorm room
2. Brady
3. Blood spill

Home for Christmas by [livejournal.com profile] broken_cinders
1. Sioux Falls
2. Bobby
3. Sexual assault

Pressure Bandage by [livejournal.com profile] themegalosaurus
1. A lecture hall at Stanford
2. A professor/classmates
3. Passing out

Here I go, turn the page by [livejournal.com profile] caranfindel
1. snowy woods
2. Kevin
3. Where did Sam get to? Better follow the footprints. The bare and bloody part is disturbing, though.

The Recorded History of Sam Winchester by [livejournal.com profile] indiachick
1. a natural history museum
2. Castiel
3. Castiel can perceive the blood on this dinosaur tooth/chunk of meteorite/bit of fossilized wood, even though it's older than human life on earth. He can also tell whose it is. Sam's. How?

The Holy Man and The Creature by [livejournal.com profile] lennelle
1. A secret meeting place.
2. Dean, Castiel, Bobby
3. The devil walks the earth. The abomination who freed him must be destroyed by the righteous.

Soulsearching by [livejournal.com profile] holyhelly
1. Abandoned church
2. Castiel
3. Soulfisting

Until We Close Our Eyes For Good by [livejournal.com profile] tuesdaytoo
1) Throughout the years (pre-series to now if you wish or whatever span of time you like)
2) Dean (as his main constant; add other characters as you see fit)
3) Depression

Unclean by [livejournal.com profile] zara_zee
1. A mental hospital, post re-souling
2. Dean and Bobby
3. 'Self purification'

Once Upon a Time by [livejournal.com profile] center_galaxy
1) abandoned ruins of castle/other such structure
2) dean
3) sam pricks his finger on a statue - blood loss is disproportionate to magnitude of cut (perhaps because of some sort of spell/curse)

Phosphorus by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1. Rooftops
2. Ghost
3. Sometimes Sam thinks there's stardust in his veins.

Protection by Ксения Огородникова
1. The bunker
2. Dean
3. After Sam finds out Lucifer is on the loose again, he finds every protection and purification sigil in the MoL library and starts carving them onto his body.

Soda-Can Walls And Gravel Roads by [livejournal.com profile] wetsammy
1) Seedy trailer park
2) Dean
3) Insomnia

बिन्द by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1. Wrapped in blankets on a couch/bed
2. Dean and/or character of choice
3. Having demon blood in him makes Sam susceptible to a supernatural illness

Grief is a fungus of the heart by [livejournal.com profile] holyhelly
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

Asclepias curassavica by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1- The Bunker
2- Mary & Dean
3- Blood related illness

Spells for the Watchers by [livejournal.com profile] indiachick
1) A narrow spit of land
2) Rowena
3) Blood spell

Ponderosa by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1) locked in a small room
2) John and Dean
3) the smell of something dead

Tree Falls by [livejournal.com profile] crowroad3
1.) the woods
2.) Dean
3.) nonverbal

[identity profile] eris-ed.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
1) abandoned ruins of castle/other such structure
2) dean
3) sam pricks his finger on a statue - blood loss is disproportionate to magnitude of cut (perhaps because of some sort of spell/curse)

((this is very heavily influenced by sleeping beauty))

(no subject)

[identity profile] eris-ed.livejournal.com - 2016-11-04 05:20 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[identity profile] eris-ed.livejournal.com - 2016-11-04 15:52 (UTC) - Expand

RE: Filled: Once Upon a Time (4/4)

(Anonymous) - 2016-11-05 04:24 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[identity profile] eris-ed.livejournal.com - 2016-11-06 20:20 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] chomaisky.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 01:58 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Bathroom
2. Cas
3. Addiction

[identity profile] cowboyguy.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Yay!

[identity profile] chaos-slave.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 02:41 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Motel
2. Dean
3. Weeks after Bloody Mary, Sam's eyes bleed when he wakes from his nightmares about Jess.

[identity profile] indiachick.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Seedy trailer park
2) Dean
3) Insomnia

[identity profile] wetsammy.livejournal.com 2016-11-04 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow, great prompt.

(no subject)

[identity profile] wetsammy.livejournal.com - 2016-11-15 22:34 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] indiachick.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Old movie theatre
2) Rowena
3) Depersonalisation

[identity profile] indiachick.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Dreamscapes
2) Gadreel
3) Ghosts of previous traumas

[identity profile] shangrilada.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Stanford
2. Dean
3. Diabetes (lotsa blood tests!)

(Anonymous) 2016-11-05 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Do you think you can fill your own plot? You would write this one so awesomely! Big fan BTW but I don't have a LJ account.

[identity profile] shangrilada.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 03:14 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Impala backseat
2. John
3. Coughing up blood

Filled: The Collector 1/2

[identity profile] lennelle.livejournal.com 2016-11-04 11:49 am (UTC)(link)
Everything is red-raw and flayed inside of him. He can feel it. He can feel the interior of his lungs dislodge and make their way back up his gullet. He chokes and sputters like he's drowning, and maybe he is.

Sam blinks, teary-eyed. He can't see much through the blur. It's dark outside but the Impala is lit up. He's crammed in the back seat, the heavy weight of his father behind him, keeping him upright.

Sam swipes at his mouth and chin, glances at his hands. He'd expected a lot more blood than there is. He'd expected fountains of it, not a spattering of red mucus. It hurts so much.

"Dad?" Sam gasps, lungs crying for help.

"I'm here, Sammy." A large hand squeezes his bony shoulder and Sam reaches up to meet it, to make sure it's really there.

What happened? Sam wants to asks, but he's too busy trying to catch his breath. He feels it rising inside him again and the next moment he's heaving and choking and his chest is on fire.

"Come on, Dean," John mutters.

The fit slows and stops until he can almost breathe and Sam leans wearily back into his father's chest. He realises then how cold he is and he shudders. His feet are bare and his clothes are torn and filthy, he's sure they weren't like that a day ago. He blinks, tries to remember where exactly he was a day ago. John shifts behind him and wraps his leather jacket around Sam's shoulders. He strokes his hair clumsily and Sam realises his dad is scared.

"What... happened?" Sam asks, a heaving breath between words.

"Don't worry about that right now," John says. "Just try to breathe."

Sam shakes his head, there's a giant blank space there leering at him. Taunting him.

"I don't remember - " Sam begins, but he's cut off by hacking coughs. John holds him steady.

"I know you don't," he says. "You'll be okay, Sam. You'll be fine. Dean's going to fix this."

Sam wants to ask why Dean isn't here and why Dad isn't the one off killing whatever's doing this, because that's how these things usually go. He glances up and sees the skin-whitening fear on his father's face, and he decides it's best not to question it.

Still, Sam wants to know.

"What happened?" he asks again, breathing calm enough for him to get both words out at once. He's gasping by the time he's done speaking. Dad rubs his back and holds tight.

John is quiet for a moment, then he says, "We lost you two weeks ago. You went to school and you didn't come back. Do you remember anything?"

Sam strains, thinks hard. He remembers going to school in the same clothes he's wearing now, except they weren't so ragged and he had shoes on his feet. He remembers collecting his things from his locker before stepping outside at the end of the day, then nothing. There's a great big gaping hold between then and now.

(no subject)

[identity profile] lennelle.livejournal.com - 2016-11-20 22:43 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] dragonflybeach.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
1. lost in the mountains
2. Dean, but they're separated at the moment.
3. there's blood on the snow, and Sam doesn't know if it's his, Dean's, or the monster's.

FILLED: One Purpose 1/2

[identity profile] yuriookino.livejournal.com 2017-02-17 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Title: One Purpose
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Word count: 1400
Warnings: Suicide attempt, blood
A/N: Sorry for my English TTATT

The blood is dark in the moonlight, and ice crystals create sparkling galaxies in each stained footprint. Sam keeps following them, air filled with frosted breaths and echoes of his crunchy steps. His phone lies lost somewhere behind him in the snow, in a hidden spot where he has no time to look, as the minutes go by and the blood spills faster and fills the footprints more and more, like icy wine cups.

Someone is bleeding out, and the certainty that that one is Dean is what makes him forget about the monster still lurking in the woods, and himself.

He doesn’t remember how the hunt started, nor what they were hunting, but the feeling that something is shifting around him, watching, never leaves Sam, and the sheer panic that slowly crowls up the back of this skull has turned him into the hunted one. He knows that.

He also knows that one moment Dean was beside him, and the next one he wasn’t. All that was left of him were footprints and blood in the snow. Sam must have passed out, because there’s something missing - aside from his brother. A piece of him. A piece of his consciousness. Something is not right.

‘What were you hunting?’, he asks himself, trying to keep himself grounded, to think rationally, because he knows that fear is his enemy now, and if he stops thinking - if he stops being the geeky boy now - Dean is lost for good.

He can only remember cold and red eyes, red as blood in the firelight. That thing is still out there, he can feel it and he’s not sure anymore that what he hears are his own raspy breaths.

“Dean!” he calls out, and then tries to calm himself down one more time, once he hears the anguish in his voice.

This won’t be the end. If he keeps following the footprints he will reach something, at some point. They can’t go on forever. Sam tries to make these thoughts louder than the dark ones, those that want to convince him that all hope is lost, that Dean is already dead, that that amount of blood on the ground is too much for anyone to survive, let alone to keep walking at that speed.

What if those are not Dean’s footprints? Not his blood? That shadow of hope almost makes him tremble, as he keeps on dragging himself through the woods, one step after another, ignoring the exhaustion that lurks in his body.

But he still needs to know where that blood trail is going, he needs to make sure. Also, even if that’s not Dean’s blood, his brother is still lost somewhere, and the most logic conclusion is that he is hunting the monster down by himself. Almost equally terrifying.

He calls out for his brother again. He doesn’t know for how long he’s been walking, nor for how long he will be able to keep on going. His legs are heavy and cold. He feels his body getting closer and closer to the ground, like the opposite poles of magnets reaching for each other. His breaths are faster, the frozen clouds almost makes it difficult to see his trail. Like his eyesight is getting foggier, and his mind is a maze and each thought gets more difficult to grasp.

There’s more blood on the ground, also more footprints - but he might be seeing double. Also fuzzy. That can’t be right. He’s quite sure he has seen that particular tree before.

Suddenly a new sound in the air, and he slows down. It’s an echo that doesn’t belong to that stillness. It could be the monster. Maybe Sam has finally reached hit. He looks around, eyes darting in the dark - he thinks it’s getting darker. The sound again, like a cry, like a creature in pain. Something appears far away, half hidden by the trees. A splotch of colour in the night. And that splotch has a voice.

“Sam,” he hears, and before he can realise it, his instinct is driving him to walk towards the figure that he’s supposed to recognise.

“Sam,” it goes again, and now Sam knows he’s running towards Dean. He feels his chest untighten and he can start breathing a little more easily. Relief fills his brain with new purpose and one single word: Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean.

(no subject)

[identity profile] yuriookino.livejournal.com - 2017-02-17 19:42 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] dragonflybeach.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
1. a pirate ship
2. Captain Jack Sparrow
3. "I don't know any Gabriel, mate."

[identity profile] dragonflybeach.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
1. the trunk of the Impala
2. a stranger
3. there was one more of Azazel's children

[identity profile] center-galaxy.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Jess' Family Christmas Party
2) Jess
3) "So, Sam, tell me about your family."

[identity profile] holyhelly.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Rooftopqsqi
2. Ghost
3. Sometimes Sam thinks there's stardust in his veins.

FILLED: Phosphorus

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-06 09:13 am (UTC)(link)
FILLED: Phosphorus
Genre/pairing: gen
Characters:Sam, Dean
Spoilers: none



He left Dean, went to the church angry and alone.

I can't trust you, Dean said. Not so long ago, Dean called him a monster. Then light burst from a stone floor--and he was.

He went to the graveyard on his own. Little town of Lennox. There'd been a haunting; people torn up, found frayed. Heaven and hell could gank themselves, Dean said. Bobby said nothing, kept breathing, slept in his hospital like he was formerly, already.

Ghost possession, Dean said, but it wasn't that. Sam's veins dry-iced, remembered moonlight.

He could open them, fill them with ghosts. Chances, choices, imprints. Memory. His ribs sang in Enochian. Burned.

*

There was an angel in the churchyard, just under a stone with a crouching child. Name worn off, a "W" and an "M."

Sam stiffened. Nothing but salt and matches and knives.

"You found me?" Sam said.

"Defenseless," said the angel. No-one he'd seen before but familiar, vessel a woman so light that the stones shone through. Deep hair. Smiled like he was the first human she'd touched.

"I'm not alone, " Sam said, though he was.

I'm warded.

The angel wouldn't say her name, walked up and touched him, seemed to glean from his palm a whole world.

"No," the angel said, "you aren't."

*

Sam's veins tingled when she blinked out. The temperature dropped, or his temperature dropped, or the sky got bright of a sudden, the arc of star over the churchyard amped up like eyes.

There wasn't a ghost. There'd been a ghost but it was gone, had taken its bodies with it.

Or that's what the angel said, when she made him, hung him in the ecliptic, not south of heaven but north. Beyond gardens. Where Scorpius and Orion crossed sharps over the huntress.

When they were children, Dean told him. His eyes were as bright as the Belt.

*

Sam stood in the churchyard all night. First light picked the weak lock, climbed to the roof of the abandoned rectory. Stood silver over the bones of the dead.

Dean found him in the dawn,doves in old roof rolling, pale as down, waiting on the morning star.
Edited 2016-11-06 09:29 (UTC)

[identity profile] center-galaxy.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 06:49 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Rooftop of a tall building
2) Castiel and Hallucifer
3) Attempted suicide

[identity profile] kettle-o-fish.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
1. A locked psychiatric ward
2. Mary
3. Dean can't take care of Sam anymore.

[identity profile] quickreaver.livejournal.com 2016-11-04 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
I'm crying already. And this hasn't even been filled yet.

(no subject)

[identity profile] eris-ed.livejournal.com - 2016-11-04 05:18 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] ladykorana.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
1. Wrapped in blankets on a couch/bed
2. Dean and/or character of choice
3. Having demon blood in him makes Sam susceptible to a supernatural illness

FILLED: बिन्द

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-08 09:04 am (UTC)(link)
FILLED: बिन्द
Characters:Sam, Dean, Cas, Rowena
Warnings: witchery and liberties



There's an old ash, lightning-split, on the lot of the Woodland. Other than that the road, blue rooms--

the forest they fell out of. This bed.

"Just have to wait it out, Sammy, " Dean says. Lifts the second blanket and drapes it. Reaches for Sam's shoulder and--

"God," Sam groans. In an hour the clavicle-cracking might start. It's worse than withdrawal.

"Just--" Dean says, goes for the cup of water. No tea. Too worried to leave. Salt the door, crack it. Go out into rain for aids not herbs or sacraments.

"Drink," Dean says.

*
Yaksha, they thought, but it was different, devouring bits of leaf as it went. Maybe not yaksha at all.

Maybe it was harmless unless you weren't human, unless there was some anti-body it might eat-- and it crept into lymphatics quiet; chose chills, sent them flowering out, malarial, into the boy who might have been king.

"Think I got the flu, " Sam said, after they chased it, after they hit the slush-road and crashed, spoke quiet in the lamplight like it was the eighties, and they were then: boys.

Dean looked him over: wet hair, drawn mouth. Faint flush.

"Got a fever?"

"Probably."

Sam wouldn't let his brother touch him. Just wanted to sleep.

Woke up wracked, writhing, needing to be wrapped.

*

"I don't know," Dean says on the phone, "he was fine 'til we tried to gank the thing."

He listens, tapping.

"Yeah, I'm sure, but--hang on." Dean's hands land, hold Sam through a shake that's more like a seize, yank the blankets back up again.

*

In the mountains to the south of them, spirit-ill might flash through a church like fire, decimate. But that was revelations. That was god-talk. This was something else, for once. Dean looks out, pulls curtains on the sight, listens to the creep and click of the place, prays.

Cas steeples his fingers over Sam. Watches him stiffen. Sighs.

"Rowena," he says.

*

The lot spits her wet and vexed onto their threshold.

"What can't the Winchesters fix this--" Her skin-licked bag hits the floor. "Oh. Samuel."

"Yeah," Dean says, "Cas can't help, and he thinks--"

"Oh, I can--but will I." Her lashes. Dean snakes out an arm and hooks her, jerks her bedside
and watches her brace for offense. Lets her touch Sam with his palm hovered over.

"Boy," Rowena says to his sleeping brother, "the nature-spirits like you, maybe a little too much.
Forest-bhuta won't eat you if you treat them right. But when did you two ever respect--"

Sam's spine goes long, shorts again, snaps to. His ribs fan flat and he gasps:

"Dean--"

Dean constricts their witch, tilts her to her tools.

"Fix him."

*
Outside it's all eaten leaves, wind, road rolling into the distance. Dark hills not far off, and mountains to the south.

Sam stiffens.

Rowena circles and casts. Opens the skin-bag and draws his blood, slow, from a shaken vein.
Crushes the herb and calls for fire. Sketches: बिन्द. Calls for fire. Lets her eyes roll and her wrists lift until
Sam goes green as a grove and spills from his eyes and trails down his cheeks and splits--vines; a cyclone, fork-split heat.

*

They were children once, and now they've spoken to god.

Not this time. Just the blue room; creakings, knockings, hex-haunt and fizzled fire.

"Hex hangover, " Dean mutters, shakes his brother. "Sam?"

Dean unwraps him slow. Puts a hand out to help.

"Dean?" Sam says, "I dreamed--"

Stands up tall as a tree.

Edited 2016-11-08 09:15 (UTC)

[identity profile] center-galaxy.livejournal.com 2016-11-03 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
1) Charlie's apartment
2) Charlie
3) Charlie comes home to find a passed out, bleeding Sam Winchester propped up against her door.

[identity profile] broken-cinders.livejournal.com 2016-11-04 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

FILLED: Grief is a fungus of the heart (1/2)

[identity profile] holyhelly.livejournal.com 2016-11-06 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)
FILLED: Grief is a fungus of the heart

A chilling wind churns the fog, mists the world into terrifying white nothingness. Wood creaks under hesitant feet, moans at the weight it carries; Atlas to someone’s whole world. Under the planks water splashes against pillars, wet’s the lumber and fuels the mould. The lake is a lonely place.

Sam stands on the dock, searching first his pockets, then the ground for something that doesn’t want to be found. Wood creaks again as a second pair of feet joins Sam on the rickety quay. Through the cloudy white, he can just make out a shotgun and a baseball cap.

“Bobby?” he rasps.

“Were you expecting someone else?” the man answers, carefully placing his feet on the less rotten-looking planks.

The question tears through Sam like a knife and sends tears stinging into his already wet eyes. No, he’s not expecting someone else. There is no one else. He doesn’t say it, just lets his hands run over rough wood in increasingly frantic sweeps. He’s lost count of the splinters in his hands, lost count of the frantic prayers that what he’s looking for hasn’t found a crack in the floorboards and fallen to the icy depths of the lake.

“Sam, son,” Bobby whispers from behind has he lays a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder, “What the hell are you doing out here at the crack o’ dawn?”

Sam bites back tears, forces his voice to sound semi-sane and, sounding like it’s perfectly obvious what he’s doing on a misty dock at four in the morning, croaks, “I’m looking for something.”

“You’re looking for something.” Bobby sighs, “Can’t that wait till morning, when I’m not freezing my balls off?”

“No.” Sam shakes his head, shifts his knees a few inches so he can start searching a new part of the dock.

With popping joints, Bobby crouches down to his surrogate son’s eye level. He reaches out to the young man’s face, grabs and pulls it his way until they’re looking each other in the eye. What he sees doesn’t instil much confidence. Sam’s eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, his face deathly pale under his sodden hair.

Then Sam, shifts and Bobby can see the dark stain on Sam’s flannel, blood dripping softly to the planks under their feet.

“Balls! What the hell happened to you?!”

Sam waves his hand dismissively, “Kelpie got me,” and then more agitated, “And then it pulled it away from me and dropped it somewhere and I can’t find it anymore.”

“We need to get you looked at.”

“I need to find it. I just need to find it, then we’ll go.”
Edited 2016-11-06 23:53 (UTC)

RE: FILLED: Grief is a fungus of the heart (2/2)

(Anonymous) - 2016-11-07 03:24 (UTC) - Expand

RE: FILLED: Grief is a fungus of the heart (2/2)

(Anonymous) - 2016-11-07 17:41 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] lennelle.livejournal.com 2016-11-04 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)
1) A road through the middle of nowhere
2) Dean
3) "You're not the real Sam"

(Anonymous) 2016-11-05 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
1- The Bunker
2- Mary & Dean
3- Blood related illness

FILLED: Asclepias curassavica

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-05 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
FILLED: Asclepias curassavica
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S12
Warnings: suicidal ideation
Notes: went for domestic and it came out angsty-creepy; hope you don't mind!
Asclepias curassavica, bloodflower, whose genus is named for the god (Greek, of healing.)



They're crowding him.

"Please, Sammy," Dean says.

"Please," says the woman who claims to be their mother.

His eyes fill up with red petals.

*

Felt like a cold coming on; ripped seams in the throat, chill in the bone, sore flanks, weak fever.

"You alright?" Dean asked him, pulled two kinds of meat from the freezer and weighed them, cold-burnt, in his palms, "whaddya want for dinner?"

"Not that hungry."

Dean looked at him funny but kept at the prep. The bunker kind of hummed with him, with them, their mother bowed newly shorn over the library table.

*

Sam turned in his hard bed. Slept, fretful. Dreamt.

Of suckling, sweet, from Ruby's vein.

There were voices in the hall, light-crack into his bedroom like--

"Think he's--"

"Burning up..." Mary said, "we should--"

Dean's reply, inaudible.

*

Mary sat with him. Brought tea.

He got worse, choke and shake and fry; air, skin, corpuscles.

Swallowed her soup. Threw it up.

*
Third day. Too weak. The bunker hummed with him, them. Dean sat on his bed, pinched the back of his hand. Shook his head.

"I don't know what this is, Sammy, but it ain't good."

I do, he wanted to say, didn't. Mary put poppies at the bedside, or some kind of red meadow flower.

Dean sent her out for honey, drugs.

Sam sat up, breathed.

*
In the afternoon the air moved and Cas landed. Sam pretended to sleep.

"So you're saying--" Dean said.

"Antibodies. Or that's the closest I can come."

"To his own mother? Like--"

"Some kind of delayed--" Cas said, "or--"

Dean said something about veins.

"Who knows what's in there, with all he's--"

Done, Sam thought.

"--been through, " Dean said, "what do we do? Some kinda spiritual transfusion?"

"It's not that easy. And it won't be pleasant."

*

There were petals on the floor, and spilled scarlet soup.

Sam got up. Stumbled to the sinks.

No soap. Razors.

Dean came and caught him. He didn't fall.

*

They're crowding him, Dean gripping his arms, wrapping him up.

"Please, Sammy."

I'm so sorry," Mary says, strokes him, pushes at his hair.

"Please," she says, as he droops, nurses, in his dreams, from his own arm.

Vessel-blood. Not his own, his own; theirs, his, hers.

Should have fed it all, whatever family don't end with--

into that box, with a witch crouched at his shoulder.





RE: FILLED: Asclepias curassavica

(Anonymous) - 2016-11-05 15:54 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-05 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
1) Home
2) Mary, or the hallucination of
3) Bloodlines & open veins

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-05 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
1) A narrow spit of land
2) Rowena
3) Blood spell

Filled: Spells for the Watchers (1/4)

[identity profile] indiachick.livejournal.com 2016-11-06 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Hi: this has weirdly too-less Rowena, and it's weird, but I loved this prompt and I had to try filling it)


  1. WORD


Sam can’t breathe anymore.


Somewhere to his left, Dean is shouting.


Sam, you better stay fucking alive.


There is fire inside of him, licking at his innards and every bit as painful as his memory of Hellfire. He wonders if it pours out of him, if they can all see it, if they can all hear what he hears or see what he sees.


What he hears: the sea, Rowena chanting, Dean shouting, whispers. The whispers are the loudest of all, words in every language, every little slice of knowledge and every divine secret, all crashing around him.


You’re a man of letters. Take my wisdom. Wise men fall to ruin faster: do you know why, Sam?


Because the stupid rightly fear consequences, thinks Sam.


What he sees: it, ancient, thing whose name he does not know, no face and ink-stained hands and shackles on its arms all made of interlocked letters. Pages flutter all around him and he picks one up, and his heart beats faster, and he wants to read all the way to the bottom.


Stay and learn, says the angel of written word. There’s nothing more powerful than ink and word, and you like power, don’t you?


(Sam? Sam, can you hear me?)


I could teach you everything there is to know about this universe.


(SAM!)


“Get the fuck out of my body,” Sam says. He feels like he’s speaking in tongues.


The angel doesn’t budge.


“Get out.”


Nothing happens. Is this angel too strong? Has the spell weakened him?


There was a safe word, inked into his memory. He can’t find it. He wonders if the angel has erased it.


Please, Sam thinks, desperately. Searches through memory.


The angel laughs.



  1. FOG


Rowena pulls up earth.


Bloody hands and split fingers, light cracking across her skin in words too ancient to read. Invocations, exaltations: Dean doesn’t know what’s going on anymore, where in the ritual they are.


It’s getting harder to keep Sammy in the chair. Outside the circle, Dean’s palm is flayed by the end of the rope that he holds. Crowley holds the other end.


Inside the circle, Sam’s quiet for a moment. The chair only thrums slightly.


His head hangs forward, hair in a curtain hiding his face. A thin thread of blood clings from his lips.


Chezaqiel, Rowena invokes. There is a crack of thunder, sudden mist. Everything seems to roil, sea and sky, surreal like bad CGI. Dean looks out, past the narrow strip of beach, into the dark water. The angel blazes through the water when it comes, ripping the waves into two uneven halves.


Dean grits his teeth. Considers telling Rowena that they can’t do this anymore, call it off—call the whole thing off.


But Sam wanted this, he reminds himself. Sam asked for this. There was a time when that wouldn’t have stopped Dean from taking action, jumping in. But this time, he knows this is not a call he can make. He couldn’t understand if he tried—and he does try, in his own way. He tries. This is just beyond him.


There’s a moment of darkness, when the lanterns flicker out, and there’s nothing but them and fierce nature and the wet, cold air whipping ice against his skin.


And then Sam screams, pure light streaming from his eyes, his mouth, the shadows of torn wings lit up eerie and flickering behind him, and Dean forgets how to breathe.



Edited 2016-11-06 20:24 (UTC)

RE: Filled: Spells for the Watchers (4/4)

(Anonymous) - 2016-11-07 15:04 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] crowroad3.livejournal.com 2016-11-05 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
1) Ghost town
2) Dean
3) Supernatural fever and red, red wine

(Anonymous) 2016-11-05 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
Cute!!

(Anonymous) 2016-11-05 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
1. Jody's house
2. Mary & Jody (and whoever else you want)
3. Hypovolemic shock

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