April 13th excerpt:
Dean grit his teeth, any hopes of escape foiled by the cave they were in.
Not a cave. A pocket.
Tag: g/t writing
April 12th excerpt:
“Where’d ya find that?” Sam asked, lazily brushing a hand through his ever-lengthening hair, though John usually prevailed upon him to trim it down when it started to get in his eyes. He put off cutting it a little longer each time.
Dean shrugged. “It was right in your bag,” he said, pointing at the backpack slumped down next to the nightstand.
Sam bit his lips. “I thought I lost it weeks ago,” he admitted.
“I just… knew it was there,” Dean said, uncertain now. “I needed it.”
April 11th excerpt:
Screwing on the lid with more effort than he needed, Bobby scowled at the jar. “Better watch that mouth of yours around Dean,” he warned the downsized hunter. “He’s not one to take that kind of thing lying down.”
April 10th excerpt:
“You reckon I should just let you out then? See what Rumsfeld here makes of ya? ‘Cause I can tell you one thing. He ain’t lookin’ at you like he does Sam.”
catpixels:
The Heart of a Wolf
Guess from the Brothers Apart discord! Feel free to join the conversation!
And another guess that comes right from the Brothers Apart chatroom! Dean might be the size of a mouse, but he has The Heart of a Wolf!
“What do you want?” Sherlock sighed. The last time the agent had set foot in Baker Street, he’d somehow gotten himself enrolled in a bizarre training with Dean.
Still, even Sherlock had to admit (at least to himself, and certainly not out loud) that he had the makings of an acceptable ally.
With their recent addition of Detective-Inspector Greg Lestrade to the list of people who knew about Sam and Dean, Sherlock was beginning to resign himself to this pattern.
“Oh, er. Well, I was mostly wondering if Dean would be up for another training session.”
“I don’t see why not.” Sherlock’s blunt reply was strictly derived from Dean’s previous encounters with Agent Baker. They were quite easygoing with one another, the agent mindful of his movements around Dean, who was seemingly unafraid to tell it like it was to anyone no matter how tall. Objections to the opportunity to refine Agent Baker’s skills were likely to be rare, if existent.
“Brilliant! ” After a slight pause, Agent Baker began a hesitant question. “Do you, ah, think he’ll mind–?”
Sherlock rolled his eyes with a disinterested noise and hung up the phone on the spot.
April 9th excerpt:
“Are you just going to sit there and eat while your damn dog tries to make a chew toy out of me?!”
TTOL: The Trials of Logan
A+ guess on the name! You got it on the first try.
No one needs trials like this more than our favorite little punching bag, Logan Guthrie, antagonist of Bowman of Wellwood. An all-around unpleasant man.
Bobby looked away from Dean and Logan, turning a blind eye to whatever they did. “Want some help getting that blood out?” he offered Sam, sizing up the splotch and the dark spot around it from Rumsfeld’s saliva.
Sam glanced at it. “Sure. I’m kind of running low on jackets, anyway. We don’t exactly have a supply of them…”
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Bobby assured the kid as he held out his hand. Once Sam was with him, they left the kitchen with Rumsfeld close behind, leaving the other pair to their own devices.
Dean stared at the jar in his hand with an assessing gaze, looking over the man inside. From their last encounter, time had not been kind on Logan. His clothing was showing wear and his hair was a mess. A trip to the barber wouldn’t be out of the question, either.
By contrast, even directly after a hunt, Dean’s hair was spiked and his jacket in pristine condition. His jeans were ripped by his thigh, and his boots had some dirt caked to the bottom. Despite a few frays, it was a far cry from Logan’s tattered appearance.
“I think we can do better than that,” Dean said dryly, flipping the jar upside down.
April 8th excerpt:
After the thick glass clunked against the table beneath Logan, it didn’t take long to catch up. He pushed himself to his feet in spite of the adrenaline twitching through him, and planted his hands against the wall of glass around him.
There were some spots on it here and there from water droplets left the last time it was washed, but it was clean. It warped the view of the room.
“Hey! Fucking let me out of here!” he demanded, scowling through the dismay. His voice echoed so strangely in that tiny, clear chamber.
April 7th excerpt:
Jacob looked back up at his captor in time to see his gaze turn to the window. Jacob glanced at it too, and noted how the world outside was dimming, thanks to the maturing evening. More importantly, it was on the first floor, and anyone (anyone with enough height on their side) would be able to open it and hop out with ease.
Jacob looked back up at the man who had him suspended over the ground in a hand, and tried to make his voice as commanding as possible. “Don’t even think about it!”
April 6th excerpt:
A distant click at the front door, this time far more solid than the tentative sound of a lockpick, reached his ears. A smile of relief ghosted across Jacob’s face. His mom was home.
Brothers Apart 