ohsam | OhSam Triple Play 2016!

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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

caranfindel
1. A deserted road
2. Jess
3. Bleeding out

Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere by

center_galaxy
1. The Impala
2. Ghost!John
3. Car accident

Whauksis by

crowroad3
1. New England in the fall
2. Dean
3. The hunter hunted

Binding by

fairyniamh
1. In a mirror
2. Lucifer
3. Banishing sigils gone wrong

Appointment in the White City by

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

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

wetsammy
1.Bunker
2.Dean
3.Curse/Curse box

Time to say goodbye by

amberdreams
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Descent by

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

lennelle
1. A church
2. Godstiel
3. Purifying the boy with demon blood as a "mercy"

To-do List by

lennelle
1. Bobby's house
2. Bobby and/or Dean
3. Unclean

Next of Kin by

lennelle
1. mental hospital
2. jody
3. next of kin

Collateral Damage by

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

laughablelament
1) A kind of Kansas purgatory
2) Dean
3) rib-cracking spiritual seizure

Fix You by

center_galaxy
1. the impala
2. wee!dean
3. skinned knees

An Ocean Away by

center_galaxy
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

The Collector by

lennelle
1. Impala backseat
2. John
3. Coughing up blood

Falling Leaves by

center_galaxy
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Tide Rolls In by

broken_cinders
1. A lighthouse
2. Dean
3. Permanent injury

Battlefield Dressing by

wetsammy
1. College dorm room
2. Brady
3. Blood spill

Home for Christmas by

broken_cinders
1. Sioux Falls
2. Bobby
3. Sexual assault

Pressure Bandage by

themegalosaurus
1. A lecture hall at Stanford
2. A professor/classmates
3. Passing out

Here I go, turn the page by

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

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

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

holyhelly
1. Abandoned church
2. Castiel
3. Soulfisting

Until We Close Our Eyes For Good by

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

zara_zee
1. A mental hospital, post re-souling
2. Dean and Bobby
3. 'Self purification'

Once Upon a Time by

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

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

wetsammy
1) Seedy trailer park
2) Dean
3) Insomnia

बिन्द by

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

holyhelly
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

Asclepias curassavica by

crowroad3
1- The Bunker
2- Mary & Dean
3- Blood related illness

Spells for the Watchers by

indiachick
1) A narrow spit of land
2) Rowena
3) Blood spell

Ponderosa by

crowroad3
1) locked in a small room
2) John and Dean
3) the smell of something dead

Tree Falls by

crowroad3
1.) the woods
2.) Dean
3.) nonverbal

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hi: this has weirdly too-less Rowena, and it's weird, but I loved this prompt and I had to try filling it)

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.

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)

UNSEEN

Rowena feels the words flaying her skin, ancient names dredging blood up her throat. Her blood runs sluggish into a ceramic pot and stalls around other instruments of magic: talismans, mirror, salvaged Grace, hair.

Sam Winchester’s hair.

His chair slides forward in the circle, and his brother and Fergus shout, scrabbling for the ropes. His head falls back, and there’s fresh blood seeping through the cloth across his eyes. That angel of stars had done a number on him.

Rowena feels the sea at her back. Wetness licks her dress, and her hair sticks uncomfortably to her hot neck. She powers through more horrible words, the magic in her a flickering thread, and when she looks up, trying to push air into her lungs, she sees him.

Sam.

Well—Sam out of the chair, that is, the chair magicked to keep him in place. Only he isn’t really out of it, not-Sam and not his actual body. He flickers, faint, glows soft like the moonlace plants that she picks for her spells.

Witch, he spits at her. What is this?

Rowena purses her lips. The words are getting harder to read, her pages soaked by the salt and turning the old book brittle at a rapid pace.

The angel touches her shoulder. She feels herself leaving her body, and then time itself seems to reverse, world going quickly back in years: decades now, centuries now. She sees places—ley lines, power centres, sylvan enclaves—she sees magic sprouting in the world, shy as a newborn babe, and the sputter of witchcraft lit in an untouched space.

Everything unknown, unheard, unseen: an offering to her.

“You cannot tempt me,” she tells Tamiel, and she looks at him, through him, to what she hopes is still Sam Winchester. “Now, Sam.”

STARS

“Okay, okay, you’re alright, Sammy, just three to go.”

Light. The vertiginous spin of matter into singularity, explosive, radiation in spectrums of colour that he has no names for, supernovae expanding and collapsing.

Stars, stars, stars.

“Sam?”

“Wha—?”

“Look at me, hey—look at me, man.”

The circle, unbroken. The sea, bucking and shuddering, like Atlas yearning to throw the weight off. Dean, kneeling next to the chair, a bloody cloth in his arms. Starbursts still exploding in his eyes.

Dean squeezes his hand. “That was—Sammy, what was that?”

“Stars,” says Sam. His voice sounds raspy, and he wonders if he’d screamed. “The angel—”

“—of stars?” Crowley asks, from somewhere to the right. “Ought to be lonely, I suppose, all that millennia out there in empty space. You think angels get bored?”

“I’m surprised he answered, Fergus,” says Rowena. She’s standing with her arms folded, looking out at the water. “I’m surprised anyone is answering.”

“Well of course they’ll answer, mother,” snaps Crowley, “He was Lucifer’s vessel. He’s got a fanclub, I suppose, amongst the more dickish of the winged dicks.”

Dean flinches next to Sam. “Would you two shut up?”

Sam’s kinda finding their back-and-forth pleasant, welcome almost. It’s different from the sound of nebulae triggered into being, of the whoosh and boom of distant bodies crashing against each other and shattering. All that cosmic shit.

Sam asks, “Why’d we—did we stop?”

They can’t stop. Did Dean make them stop? Sam thinks Dean wanted to stop after the first one. After it had almost tricked Dean into the circle. Sam looks at him, questioningly, and Dean puts up his hands.

Dean dabs below Sam’s eyes and the cloth comes away bloody.

“Remember Bloody Mary?” Dean says, with forced levity. “Kinda just like that, eh?”

“Did we stop, Dean?”

“Quick break,” says Dean, shakily. “Yeah? Here, drink.”

Sam drains half the bottle, and then drops it on the ground.

Dean stands, whips out a clean cloth. “For the—the blood,” he mutters. He’s holding that thing like a blindfold.

“I don’t—I don’t want—”

Dean’s arm goes around his shoulder. His hand comes to rest on the top of Sam’s head, and Sam presses his face into Dean’s shirt, the warmth of him a momentary comfort against this cold.

Dean holds him like that, a minute, says, “You only have to say the word.”

“I have to get through this.”

“I know,” Dean sighs, and places the cloth softly around his eyes.

Sam’s world goes dark.

DECEPTION

Everything is a mess.

The sea drenches them. There’s lightning and thunder, and Dean’s trying to see through a headache that’s been dogging him since Sam first came up with this plan.

“What if his chair gets blown out of the circle?” Crowley shouts over the rain.

Because that’s what’s concerning him about all this. The fucking sturdiness of the fucking chair.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean yells back, “because you’re gonna hold that rope like your worthless life depends on it!”

He’s not sure if he wants to look at Sam. Sam, tied to that chair, alone in there, and Dean out here unable to actually do anything of import. This is what he hates the most: being a watcher, a helpless spectator to all the supernatural crap that keeps swimming in and out of Sam’s life.

Rowena raises her voice. The pages of the Book flutter in her hand. Storm lashes around them, lightning strikes the circle. The paint doesn’t burn away, although Sam jerks.

More thunder.

Sam’s eyes meet Dean’s, and Dean tries not to cringe, not to look away—because that’s not Sam, not his little brother but something ancient, and Dean’s seen this too many times for his own comfort. Never after this, he thinks, almost prays, but then he remembers God: soft, unable to really help. Maybe if He had gotten His shit together, Sammy wouldn’t be looking at him with something else in his gaze.

“Dean,” Sam calls out, all of a sudden. “Dean—please. Help me.”

Rowena pauses for a second. “Don’t you dare, Dean Winchester,” she says.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out. “It’s not him. I know.”

He tries to look away. To arrange everything inside him into something organized: Mom, God, fear, family, Cas, Lucifer. Sam, Sam, Sam. It only makes him more anxious.

Sam blinks—and suddenly, it is him, just Sam, an expression of bewilderment crossing his face before he goes stiff, his entire body twisting in the chair, and then he’s coughing and there’s blood, and—

“Don’t,” says Rowena again, warningly.

“Sam?” calls Dean. He’s thinking—stupidly—of a time after this, of the cold quiet relief that he knows will settle in his bones once he and Sam are safely in the car, and driving, and Sam’s bitching quietly to fill up the strange silence, and Dean’s just falling into the blue and gold and neon of the night-highways, wheel steady under his hand and safety—safety—

Sam’s saying his name, quick litany: Dean, Dean, Dean and please.

Dean takes another step forward.

“Fergus,” says Rowena. “Make him stop.”

“You have to say the word,” says Crowley, suddenly. “If you want out of it, Sam, you have to say the word.”

And the Angel of Deception—who knows not the word—screams in fury, flooding back into Sam’s gaze.

1.RITUAL

“They’re going to offer you things,” says Sam, watching the sea crash against the rocks. They’re far out somewhere on an empty beach, nothing but a narrow piece of land caught between water and shale cliffs. “The angels. They’re probably gonna show you things, try to talk you into letting them out. That’s what Lucifer does—”

“And you’re sure about this?” Dean asks, for the one-hundredth time. “There might be other ways, there’s probably—”

“Look. He’s tried several vessels, and he’s burned through them all.”

“That doesn’t actually mean he’s gonna come after you, Sam.”

“I can’t take the chance,” Sam says. “Okay? I have to make it impossible for him. Make myself uninhabitable by any other thing. If that means one blood-spell of cycling through five different angels, I can do that, Dean. This is Lucifer. He’s always going to find a way, and I can’t do nothing and just let him come at me. Not again.”

“Isn’t there a warding, some sigils we can use—”

“I can’t—I don’t trust that, Dean,” says Sam. “The anti-possession tattoo, hell, you could break it. You don’t think Lucifer can find his way around a sigil? I just—you have to understand, Dean. I can’t let him in me. I can’t let anything—”

“But we’re not going to stop the spell,” says Rowena, staring unimpressed at the hostile land. She had not been pleased about this spell needing special locations. “Unless you say the agreed word, we’re not going to stop.”

“And you’re not going to try anything funny,” Dean snaps.

“Why would I?” Rowena arches her eyebrows. “I’d rather see the dark Lord evicted from vessel after vessel and powerless than serve up his prize horse.”

“You tried once, to be fair,” says Crowley.

“What do you want me to say, Fergus? That I learned my lesson?”

Dean pulls ropes out of the Impala’s trunk. They’re still wet from holy oil. He grabs a can of spray paint and throws it at Sam, and goes to watch as Sam starts to paint in the circle for the ritual on the rock.

“What’s the word, Sam?”

Sam looks up at Dean, steeling himself. “Lebanon,” he says.

“You’re gonna hold onto that word, okay? Promise me.”

Safety. Family. Home.

Lebanon.

Sam nods. He just has to get through tonight.

[A/N: 1. I actually found it quite interesting to write a fic in reverse time-order, something I've never tried.
2. This fic was partly inspired by this amazing art project called The Angelarium (http://www.angelarium.net/), which you should all check out, if you haven't already.]

Oh--!

How is that I get all the best gifts? Damn is this fantastic, from the POV's and the chronology to the voices (Crowley!); the language, the landscape, the magic--but mostly, the power. The power of all the angels, and the blood spell, and the Book--it comes right off the words. Holy --

You know by now that weird is my jam, right? <3!

THIS WAS KILLER.

Now I have to go back and read it, in reverse. Also, I looove that art. Been watching Pete develop it for a while now. So creative and weird and other-worldly!

Great idea!!

OMG. SO GOOD.

Oh I love this! Dig the chapters, countdown titles, spinning up the tension even as we work backward. (Which, awesome.) Start and end with the safeword, circle around, make it complete. Yeah. You rock. <3

Wow, this is just super awesome! I love the backwards format, and I love how we're learning what is happening in reverse, and I adore the idea of Sam doing anything he can to stop Lucifer, or anything else, from possessing him again. The language and imagery of your words, the magic, the characters and their voices - it's all just magical, and so every enjoyable!!!

Thank you for sharing this fic with us all! take care :)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OhSam Triple Play 2016!

Filled: Spells for the Watchers (1/4)

RE: Filled: Spells for the Watchers (2/4)

RE: Filled: Spells for the Watchers (3/4)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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