I’ve watched streams, but I don’t think I could actually run one myself. I have a pretty bad anxiety about talking online or using webcams (my new computer doesn’t even have one), but I think we can manage something similar.
Would people like to do a chatroom for that weekend? We could all talk, chat, share stories and ideas and whatever else. Or does anyone else have ideas?
Yeah, I think all three of the writers live in different timezones across the states, and our helper lives across the seas from us, so timing would be awful to manage. With a chatroom, any of us can pop in over the weekend to talk, and once I find a good weekend for it and actually prepare, I can be online whenever I’m not sleeping.
If I was little, checking out puddles and streams like this would definitely be on my list of ‘must-do’s. Once the silt settles, you can see all the fish swimming along and probably checking Sam out curiously, and he can call up to Dean what he’s looking at. But Dean better not step in the stream! He’ll scare off all the fish.
Timeline: During the Winchesters three month stay at Trails West after Taken
Bree gasped as she saw a large, blue-winged butterfly swoop down from the edge of the roof she was sitting under next to Sam. Its beautiful, iridescent wings caught the last beams of sunlight, shimmering a radiant color she hadn’t seen before.
Sam laughed, holding out his good arm. The butterfly was not bothered by the two small people standing there, and alighted on his arm, antennae brushing against his hair and tickling at his face. Sam turned towards Bree. “Have you seen one before?” he asked, his eyes glowing.
She nodded, her eyes wide. “But only from the window in Beth’s room,” she confided in Sam.
“Here,” he said, clasping her hand. The butterfly curiously walked over his jacket, its delicate feet picking at the fabric. “But don’t touch the wings,” he warned, looking at the scales. “They’re very delicate, and you could rub the scales off.”
Her mouth was open in awe as the delicate creature made its way up to her shoulder, brushing at her golden blonde locks as it examined her. The beautiful wings opened and closed slowly a few times, and then the delicate feet pushed off.
She and Sam watched the butterfly flap a few times, quickly circling around them before veering back into the sky, resuming its search for flowers. The two small people under the overhang were calm and the girl was colorful, but they had no sustenance to offer, and so the butterfly’s journey was not over.
Timeline: Three years before Dean discovers Sam at Trails West
Lost, alone. A crack running up one side like a crevice in the earth’s crust, slowly crumpling to dust as the roots within wormed their way through, pushing aside the clay in search of fertile ground.
Alyssa didn’t know when the flowerpots had come to be, and had no way of knowing that years back, Bobby Singer’s wife had planted seedlings in them in the hopes of cultivating her own future garden. What she know was that the shade offered by the leafy fronds of the plant that was all-but-busting out of the earthen clay pot was cool, and it was far from the bustle to be found within the burrow.
More and more these days, she found herself wishing for her own space. The tunnels were dark and peaceful, but the children could always find her, her father always had more chores for her, and the others would wait for her to join in the weaving.
Breathing deeply, she leaned against the stalk of the mint plant. One woman’s dreams of raising her own herb garden had become Alyssa’s refuge. Before returning home, she would pack her small sling bag full of the aromatic leaves, and they would wrap minnow in them as they cooked, imbuing the flavor into the meat. It was a favorite of Alyssa’s, and she reached a hand up to stroke a fuzzy leaf that dangled over her head. So much that could be done with one little plant.
A shadow fell over her hiding place, and Alyssa grinned. She pushed a leaf out of her way, peering up to see a familiar face looking down at her plant.
The large dog that had adopted her home and family as his family, known as Rumsfeld to Bobby but only as ‘the dog’ to Alyssa’s people, not only knew about her hiding place in the crumpling flower pot tucked in a back corner of the junkyard, but also would lay out there with her, watching the grass wave in the breeze. He grumbled and settled down with a whuff, resting his head on his paws.
She had no idea how much time passed like that between them, but was startled out of her calm daydreams by a loud, harsh voice.
“Rumsfeld!”
Alyssa stumbled to her feet as Rumsfeld glanced over his shoulder. He yowled, the whine dying off his his throat as he looked back down at her. His large, wet nose pushed at her shoulder but she needed no further urging. She tore off a few leaves, and then grabbed the roots crawling out of the crack of the clay pot to scramble down.
“Rumsfeld! ”
The voice was growing louder. Alyssa whimpered and her face went pale, her small legs dashing as fast as she could muster towards the safety of the field. Human. Big, huge, stomping. So much more dangerous than the animals that made the field their home along with the small community of littles.
At least against animals they could defend themselves.
A low growl came from behind her, cutting off the human’s exclamation.
“What’re you doin’ out here, boy–”
The dog barked angrily, and Alyssa heard the scratch of his nails against the blacktop. The human shouted in surprise, and she couldn’t see what happened, but it sounded like the dog was chasing him off.
Reaching the grass at last, Alyssa disappeared into the field.
This is canon to Fairy Tales, and takes place sometime before Bowman met Jacob and discovered that humans exist.
Approx. reading time: ~5 mins
It wasn’t the first time Bowman had stayed out later than he should. The balmy summer heat and the long sunsets always played tricks on him, prompting him to fly just a little farther. Bowman relished his days out of the village, exploring his forest and learning every tree, every boulder, every animal trail.
At night, by contrast, Wellwood became foreboding and dangerous. Bowman was not equipped to handle the predators that could all but blend into the shadows.
Just his blasted luck that he found himself too far out to make it home before the sun hid its face at last.
I think he would be so surprised to see such big creatures afraid of him, all four inches of him in their cage. And those other littles will have to keep him away from any clowns because my god XD Giant clowns are not something for a wee Sammy. Dean is going to have a field day with this one if he remembers.
That would be so much food, for sure. So many people knocking over popcorn and spilling their drinks and candy, it’s like a field day for the smols and their mice, because of course they’ll have a group of mice living with them. It’s probably nice and warm to snuggle with the mice when it comes time to go to bed. Sam will love that.
I like this idea, so I’m going to add it to our list of future stories to write, and we can work on finding an AU to fit it into. It’s worth more than just a short little prompt, I’d say.
There was a story much like this submitted to the contest, if anyone wants to check it out, only there was only one little instead of a community:
Just wanted to let you know, we haven’t forgotten (or missed!) this post (it just came in right when real life imploded for a bit). We’re not sure if we’ll come up with anything for it, but we’ve mused doing a little chapter-long short story for it.
With that many Deans in one place, the world might implode.
Jacob would be completely amenable with that, the hard part is getting the field borrowers to either ask for or accept such help, considering how biased they are against humans at first. In fact, if Jacob isn’t allowed to help, he’ll feel so guilty over it for ages.
Brothers Apart 