After seeing this adorable artwork, I absolutely had to make a story to go along with it. This isn’t really canon to Fairy Tales, but it was a lot of fun anyway. The art was made by the amazing @lamthetwickster and commissioned by @nightmares06. Thank you both, and Merry Christmas to all!
Approx. reading time ~5-10 minutes
After the hustle and bustle leading up to the holiday, nothing suited Jacob more than lounging on the couch.
The living room was kept tidy, with the rug vacuumed and the coffee table free of the usual craft magazines that adorned it. There was a low fire in the fireplace, behind a worn metal grate to keep any errant sparks at bay. The furniture, well worn from years of use, had been pushed aside from its usual arrangement to make room for a tall addition that glittered and glowed.
The Christmas tree was rumpled on one side, so they’d set it up with that part facing the wall. The rest was adorned with sparkling ornaments, and a string light that Jacob had been tasked with adding on. His mother was way too short to reach the top of the tree.
There was white felt wrapped around the base for fake snow, and a tidy little pile of wrapped gifts arranged around it. With the fireplace going and the soft light from the tree reflecting around the room, it made a typical Christmas setting.
The wood sprite fluttering around the room made things less typical.
Got a lovely drawing from @wolfie180g in the mail and finally remembered to post it!
Bowman would make a very fidgety tree topper and I don’t think he’d stay up there for long. He has some doubts about this Christmas Spirit. Who is it and what do they do.
“That’s right, I almost forgot,” Dean murmured in surprise, drawing Sam’s eyes right to him, distracted from watching the fire slowly die down. He went to reach for the pocket, shifting his weight to make it easier for his hand to slip in.
Overwhelmed, Stan began to sob silently. His hands moved from his ringing ears to hug his knees close as he wept into them, and again to cling to the pocket when the human moved. Still his tears flowed, becoming fearful as it sank in that his life was now in the hands of hunters.
Stan grunted softly as he landed unceremoniously in the bottom of the pocket, but for a moment he was too shocked to move. The human had spared him, trapping him in what looked like a jacket pocket instead of killing him. Stan had to wonder why he was allowed to live, especially as he clung to the material around him to keep himself from being thrown around while the human moved.
Not a foot and a half from where he’d landed, someone was staring back at him, equally wide-eyed with shock. Never in his life, despite growing up knowing about the supernatural and watching, eventually helping, his father kill witches, werewolves and vengeful spirits, had Dean ever seen anyone quite like the little guy with the flame of red hair.
The kid couldn’t stand an inch over half a foot, if that. His skin was pale, hair so bright red it stood out against the background.
Alright, so… I need about 150 more bucks to pay rent for this month. I know I have commissions I need to finish (and I’ve been working on them as fast as I can, promise), but I’m in a pinch here, soooo.
Brothers Apart 