Sam is a huge fan of chocolate of any kind, including cherry, mint and peanut butter, and Dean will pretty much eat anything candy without complaint, meaning if Sam ever tries to build up himself a stash of candy, he’ll have to defend it from Dean if he ever gets too bored.
Known Abilities: Expert in flight and aerial acrobatics, forest camouflage, very sassy even when it is dangerously bold of him, basic Prayer to the Earth Spirit
Background: Bowman hails from Wellwood, a very isolated settlement of wood sprites situated so deep in a Midwestern forest that they had forgotten about the existence of human beings entirely. A year before his introduction to the BA-verse in A Lich of Sense, he met Jacob Andris, a human out on a camping trip with his friends. The result of Jacob being the first human to meet a Wellwood sprite in years can be found in the full story of Fairy Tales: Bowman of Wellwood.
Bowman spent all of his time growing up loving to fly. The moment his wings were big enough to carry him off the ground, he started practicing. At that point, his practice with his Prayers took a backseat, making his finesse with Life magic far underdeveloped compared to some others. However, it also means he is a very accomplished flyer, the fastest in Wellwood. He won’t let anyone forget it, either.
Quote: You want my first guess, or maybe we should sit around and brainstorm on it? It was a wolf, you idiot. What was wrong with it is a much better question.
Moira stood and took a few steps towards the strangers on the table. Her family didn’t entertain guests very often, but she knew how to offer hospitality. And maybe she could help reassure them, considering the way Sherlock and John could loom. Sherlock especially with that focused look in his eyes.
Moira spared him one last glance before opening up her bag, a smaller version of Sam’s. “Is anyone hungry?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t have much, but my mother made some cakes,” she offered shyly, pulling one out and unwrapping it from the fabric coiled around it.
Well, like I said in a previous ask, she does have a backstory and I’ve written out the first time she came into play. As I said before, the only person who will find out what’s going on with her before Sam and Dean do in the storylines will be the Grand Prize winner from the coming contest. Reading that short story will be one of the prizes given out. All the rest, her age, how and why she’s a witch, everything, is a spoiler for the various AUs.
The detective frowned when he caught sight of the line leading from the opened cage to the floor, and the little shadow of what must have been Dean dashing from it.
Ignoring everything else, Sherlock closed the distance between himself and Dean easily, slamming down a hand like a barrier in front of him and scooping him up to eye level.
“What do you think you’re doing??” he demanded, more confused than anything else. Sherlock was not fond of the feeling.
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.
The detective groped blindly at a lock of some kind, and he focused on that. It was a combination lock, one he couldn’t simply pick open and would take far too long to figure out the code for.
“Dean,” he rumbled, eyes darting around the room. It was a wide space, nothing jumped out at him in the shapes he could make out, nothing important, anyway. “I need something to break this off.”
Dean scanned the room, all of his focus concentrated on the task. “Okay, there’s a box in the corner. It’s full of old tools, some wrenches, a pretty hefty hammer–” hefty being so big that Sam and Dean together would never budge it, “–and a drill that looks like it hasn’t been used since I lived in America. Turn right, about three steps. Watch out for the table, don’t want to go knocking that copy of Harry Potter onto the floor.”
“You’re improving,” Sherlock commented as he followed Dean’s directions. Whether it was the stress of the situation or the urgency, it certainly seemed like Dean was showing off at this point. Not that Sherlock was complaining.
Brothers Apart 