Bobby stared down at the floorboard he’d torn up seconds before, startled by what he was looking at.
Nestled between two supports, there was a small room, swept clear of any remaining sawdust from the construction of the house, and with a fine layer of dust spread over a few pieces of furniture.
Knowing about people the size of his finger living nearby and seeing proof of their existence were two completely different things.
He worried his lip. The floorboard needed replacing, and it didn’t look like anyone had lived there in a long time. He recalled the place Rumsfeld had chased him from months before, a fleeting glimpse of bright red hair running from him clear in his memory. They must have once lived in his house, before relocating. He wondered why they might have left, and decided it didn’t matter.
Carefully gathering up a cradle and two makeshift chairs, Bobby pushed himself to his feet. He could find a place to leave them, and hope their former owners found them. They deserved to have all of their possessions, no matter what had driven them from the house.
I definitely cracked up at the image that popped into my head at this. Jacob would get splashed in the face if he did that too enthusiastically or too close. What dorks XD
Complete with fairy magic, g/t interaction and a fun world, this story is one I recommend to anyone who enjoys my stories! In fact, I haven’t read it since I was a kiddo, so I should pick up a copy sometime soon and have a good read.
Oh, I have and I just love it! Especially when things get swapped around, and I’m always a fan of Boone. And her other book, the Fairy Rebel was one of the books I read again and again as a kid, over and over. Those formed a lot of my first impressions with g/t, along with The Borrowers. It was so hard to find good g/t when I was a kid! Always hoping for that one episode of a story where someone gets shrunk, (watching the horrifying movie The Incredible Shrinking Man that scarred me for so long), Honey I shrunk the kids…
Timeline: During A Lich of Sense, after Dean’s arm is bitten and they are on their way to Wellwood.
“But why wings? ”
Sam blinked, having started to drift off during their trip through the forest. He didn’t exactly have much he could do, between Bowman guiding Dean towards his village and Dean doing the actual walking. On the opposite shoulder, Bowman frowned critically and eyed Dean’s profile. His attention had been on guiding the human back, but now he was more concerned by the sudden outburst.
There hadn’t been much conversation since starting off aside from Bowman’s directions, over on Dean’s other shoulder. Sam had to smirk at that, entertained by the thought of his brother serving as a taxi to people the size of his finger. Dean Winchester, the man monsters had nightmares about, ferrying around the tiniest people around.
The smile soon fled. Dean was growing weaker. Sam couldn’t stop from glancing at his brother’s injured arm, the bloodsoaked sleeve of his jacket a poignant reminder of just how much damage the wolves had done to him during their fight.
That, and the odd non sequiturs Dean kept blurting out.
“Wings, Dean?” Sam asked, curious despite himself.
“Yes, wings,” Dean pronounced, gesturing wildly with his good arm. Luckily, the arm that was attached to the shoulder Sam was perched on, and he was prepared for the movement. Bowman, who wasn’t prepared, nearly fluttered off of his perch to avoid the erratic movement, but before he could complain, Dean went right on with his rant.
“Everyone we meet these days has wings! We’ve got small fry over here, but then you remember Nixie? And Ilyana? Wings. Nixie couldn’t even function without hers! It’s like having you with me automatically attracts the first people with wings in the state right to us!” On his shoulder, Bowman lifted a wing to peer at it with an eyebrow raised, wondering why exactly it mattered.
Sam rubbed his face. “Y’know, I don’t think Bowman wanted to run into us…” he pointed out, wondering what had brought this on.
“Spirit’s truth,” muttered out from the perplexed sprite sitting opposite him.
“He’s here, ain’t he?” Dean asked knowingly. “I’m shocked you didn’t end up with wings. That’s just what I’d need. A pint-sized brother fluttering around my head. You know what happens if you have a Dean with wings?”
The silence drew out until Sam realized he was supposed to respond. “What? What happens if we’ve got a Dean with wings?”
“Nothing good!”
With that, Dean nodded sharply to himself, and resumed his previous trek through the forest.
We’re so glad to hear! Sam encourages you to journal away, because you’ll never know how you can use those journals in the future! And we’ll keep writing for ya 😉
Krissy and big Dean will indeed meet at last in Brothers Apart, in one of the stories I’ve been working on for some time!
I got cling a couple times for Oscar, one by himself and another with another character that I will work on next. For now, have a cute little story that’s pretty much canon for Food and Monsters Oscar as well as Brothers Together Oscar and any au where he grows up in the Knight’s Inn motel.
Reading time: ~5 minutes
Oscar rarely had to improvise his hiding places like this. Normally, he made sure he took as few risks as he could, to avoid situations where he needed to. He trusted certain hiding places in the room every time: under the dresser, behind the nightstand, and, in a pinch, under a bed.
Just inside the cuff of a discarded sweater on the floor? He hated it.
His heart pounded as the floor shook. The human that stumbled around, occasionally grumbling with a headache, had come in the night before very drunk, and now he was paying for it. Oscar didn’t know what it felt like to be drunk or hungover, but from what he’d seen of the kinds of people that stayed in his motel, he wasn’t interested in finding out.
Usually they stayed asleep for much longer. Oscar had crept into the room in the dark well after the human flopped onto their bed, hoping to capitalize on the food spilled on the floor when they came in. They had never noticed that their takeout box didn’t land on the table when they put it down.
Of course, he couldn’t predict that they’d lurch off of the bed towards the bathroom. Oscar was lucky that the sweater was there while he stuffed his bag full of vegetables and pieces torn from a piece of soft bread.
He had to wait it out while the human figured out what they wanted to do, all from within the thick sleeve of the knit sweater. He counted their steps in the earthquakes and sighed. At least they weren’t cognizant enough to turn on the lights. He was out of sight.
The human knocked something over in the bathroom while they were in there. Oscar sighed heavily. Shampoo bottles, maybe an away kit or something like it, clattered to the floor. Then, following that, the ground shook all the way out into the motel room as the human dropped down to their knees to scrabble at the fallen items. In the dark.
This was an easier one. Oscar shimmied back out from his hiding place, peeking out across the floor just to be sure. He could see in the dark better than any drunk human could with the lights on.
With a huff, Oscar pulled himself the rest of the way out of the sleeve. He was glad no one had seen his startled dive.
Tufts of green fuzz from the sweater stuck to him. Oscar brushed them off and jogged towards the dresser. The human was muttering to themselves about how tough it was to find things in the dark. So far, they hadn’t thought to turn the light on and help their search along. Oscar let himself smile as he ducked out of sight and approached his wallpaper entrance to get into the walls.
He was halfway home before he noticed it. A tuft of green fuzz, the size of his head, clung to his shoulder. The static kept it there, but it was so light that he hadn’t noticed it. Oscar frowned and reached over to grab it. The static cling changed to his hand instead.
“Hey,” he muttered, shaking his hand vigorously. The fuzz moved to the back of his hand instead, resolutely sticking to him. Oscar huffed and stared at it as though it were a mischievous mouse pup. “Getoff.”
He grabbed the thing in his other hand and held it out in front of him, as far as his little arms could reach. When he let it go, it drifted downwards, but only for a second before veering back towards him. Oscar was startled, and he fell backwards in the dust.
The fuzz clung to his chest now.
Oscar pushed himself back up with a frown, and brushed the dust from his pants. The fuzz still clung to him. Static was powerful for someone so small. Trying to brush the thing down to the ground only got it stuck to his hand again, and shaking it off sent it drifting back to his side.
“You’re trouble,” he accused it in a hushed voice. Then, since it insisted on clinging to him despite all his efforts, Oscar continued on his way home.
Sam usually ignores Dean while they’re getting ready in the morning. Being guys, they don’t think anything of walking around with their shirts off (for a while Sam was self conscious of how thin he was, but he’s gotten much better with a steady diet, and figured Dean’s seen it all ever since he was injured in Taken). He’s well acquainted with many of Dean’s scars, especially the ones in his hands. Many of these might even be too small for Dean to realize he has, nicks and scrapes from repairing the Impala for all those years.
Brothers Apart 