Tag: g/t writing

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July 8th excerpt:

“At least do me the courtesy of letting me tie my damn shoe first,” Stan quipped. With a roll of his eyes, he dropped to a knee and lifted a hand to his shoulder. This was a last second decision, mostly because he didn’t quite trust Dean to not run off on him before he was finished.

Dean was nearly bouncing on his heels while he waited on Stan’s shoulder, leaning against his neck for balance against the occasional tremor echoing up the lean arms while Stan readied himself.

“Maybe next time you’ll catch me before I get my hands on your shoelace,” Dean called challengingly. “I might just keep one as a souvenir, and you’ll never see those laces again.”

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July 7th excerpt:

A smirk tugged at the corner of Stan’s mouth as Dean once again exuded that cocky air he’d gotten to know. Before he could even give it a second thought, the hand Dean had been poking swept out, catching those little bowlegs behind the knees and curling his fingers into a low awning over Dean’s head as he fell into Stan’s grasp.

“Oh, my! What have we here?” exclaimed Stan in mock surprise as he lifted his hand to his eyes to peer in at Dean. Behind his smug grin, a warm bubble of pride rose in his chest, glad to be able to do that with none of the apprehension he had before. Even if it was just to rise to Dean’s bait and tease him a bit. “You lost, mousie?”

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July 6th excerpt:

With a spark of inspiration, Dean dug into his bag. There wasn’t much there that would be much use, but he only needed to distract Stan for a moment. Grabbing what paper clips he had, he quickly attached them to each other to get some heft, then wrapped the aluminum sheets he had saved up for eating with later on. It was still fairly light, but just maybe he could get Stan to look the wrong way at the right time.

Dean kicked the makeshift paper clip weight towards the back of the chair, praying it would catch Stan’s attention, then flattened himself against the ground to inch out from underneath the front of John’s chair and get to the wall he was so close to.

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July 5th excerpt:

It only took a few steps for Stan to overshoot Dean, planting one foot in the smaller man’s path in his excitement. Now that he was obstructing the way, plucking Dean up should be a cinch.

But against his best efforts, that dreadful feeling crept back in, especially with Dean rapidly approaching his much larger shoe– more than large enough to crush Dean if he stopped paying attention for one second–!

Shut up! Stan chastised himself, determinedly reaching down to snatch Dean after yet another stutter.

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July 4th excerpt:

“Is that the best you can do?!” Dean called over his shoulder, jumping to the side to get out of the way of grasping fingers. Stan hadn’t given himself enough room to maneuver next to the chair, and Dean was closing in on his destination.

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July 3rd excerpt:

Dean kicked at the second hand that was too slow to grab him, one boot grazing Stan’s skin as he launched himself towards the small round table that stood next to John’s armchair, aiming to use the space under the legs to gain some distance.

Stan cursed under his breath as Dean evaded his grasp, hurrying to his feet to circle around the side table and chair to wait for an opening.

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Oh my gosh, that’s great! Looks like I shouldn’t be tagging things after a long, exhausting day of work! (This is why I usually do my blog upkeep on weekends, but everyone’s so into the guessing game, I can’t leave ya’ll hanging…)

However it happened, you earned a sneak peek of A World of Secrets! Which Jacob and his family just stumbled into!

If Sam could inch away from the two giants the pocket concealed him from, he would. The stern tone of voice Jacob’s mom had taken on was very familiar, and Sam couldn’t stifle an involuntary yelp of surprise. He heard it from his dad almost constantly. Dean was the patient teacher, John was the stern drill sergeant.

They were mad.

Sam put a hand on the hilt of his knife, drawing strength from the gift Dean had given him. Please don’t hurt me.

Jacob heard Sam’s quiet noise, and thought back to moments ago when the other kid worried Jacob’s parents would be mad at him. He was scared of them. Telling mama and papa about him would be breaking a promise and would probably make him cry. Jacob didn’t want to do either of those things.

He also didn’t want to keep lying. He was supposed to listen to them when they told him to do something. Jacob’s toy trucks fell to the floor and he pressed his hands against the wall behind him while the conflict practically dug into him. What was he to do?

“I don’ … don’t wanna be mean,” he finally murmured lamely, hanging his head but still peeking at his mother and father. His mouth was angled in a frown and his eyes stung.

“Hey, Jake, kiddo,” his father said quietly, stepping around his wife with care that didn’t seem to fit his huge frame. He stooped and braced his hands on his knees, peering at him with a serious but kind look. “You’re not in trouble, okay? I don’t know what got you so worried, but we do need to know if you’re hiding something from us, especially if it’s alive. Okay?”

Jacob stuck out his lower lip in a pout while he let his father’s low rumble of a voice sink in. He knew they would come and check his pockets if he didn’t give in. He thought he might have a chance at avoiding some trouble if he complied, and after a second his hands moved hesitantly to his pocket where he knew Sam was curled up in fear.

Now my new friend is gonna hate me, he thought sadly as he reached into the pocket and scooped his fingers under the small form to lift him out.

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(( wonderful artwork commissioned from @lotminx​! Check them out, they have a lot of great artwork! ))

“Hello?” came the voice again, softer, but closer to Sam’s hiding spot.

Sam tried to silence his footsteps, slowly distancing himself from where the voice was coming from. Maybe the human would think he’d imagined it… 

His train of thought was cut off when something massive slammed into him from behind. The human must have reached around the nightstand while he was lost in his thoughts! Not to mention that he’d heard the human on the other side seconds before… Smart, very smart… that way I wouldn’t see him coming.

His satchel and the items inside dug into his back, compressed into him by fingers as long as his entire body was tall as they clenched shut around him, and far more powerful than he could ever hope to be. A wave of helplessness and fear hit Sam the moment he felt the sheer power in the fingers closed around him… this was far worse than his last close call. He had only been spotted that time, by a kid no one believed, thankfully.

Sam gasped in pain as the pressure increased, writhing to try and free his arms before the human could see what he’d caught. The wrist he’d injured falling was twisted even further in the overpowering grasp, shoved harshly against his ribs. He’d already failed one of the first and most important lessons his adopted father had taught him growing up: Never let a human get their hands on you. Once they did, it was almost impossible to escape, simply because of the sheer size difference. And this human was huge, making Sam’s chances of escape plummet even further. If only he could get his knife out, he might at least have a fighting chance to escape… Sam wriggled desperately.

And then it was too late.

The grip solidified around him and he was yanked backwards, out from behind the nightstand and into open air. Blinking as the bright, unfiltered light of the room hit him, Sam realized his eyes had yet to adjust to the new light. A huge voice echoed around him, deeper than he thought possible.

“Son of a bitch… what the hell are you?”

Still struggling to free either of his arms, Sam finally brought his eyes into focus in the light. A set of huge green eyes was bare inches away, sharp, dangerous eyes that could almost see right through him.

Sam tried to jerk away with a shocked gasp at how close he was, but the powerful fist kept him effortlessly in place. The human was crouched on the floor, one hand resting on the ground clutching the handgun, the other hand propped up on an elbow, wrapped mercilessly around Sam.

Sam was only suspended a few inches in the air at most. The floor wasn’t far beneath his trapped feet. At least he’d survive if he managed to get out of the grip of the fingers from this height. He still held out some hope of escape. His entire line of sight was taken up by the human… the man was so big it was unreal, like staring up at a living wall.

Since being cursed, Sam had never been this close to a human to fully appreciate how much height he’d lost and exactly how small he really was in comparison. Complete avoidance was the best way to survive in this world when you’re so small. His heart dropped at the knowledge that his life was out of his own hands… and literally in the hands of an unknown human.

Sam took in the shock on the human’s face briefly. Not many humans had ever seen people as small as Sam, and it didn’t seem like this guy was any exception. Truthfully, Sam’s face probably had the same shock painted all over it. He’d never gotten caught like this… completely helpless and with no way out, no hope of escape. The biggest problem he’d run into before today was being spotted from afar. He’d gotten out of that room long before the kid was able to convince anyone of what he’d seen and had stayed away from that room until long after they were gone, just to be safe. This time, he’d been overconfident, assured of his escape if anyone came into the room.

For a long moment, Sam and the human stared at each other in silence, faces unconsciously echoing the same expression of disbelief. 

Read the series here!

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July 2nd excerpt:

Sherlock’s comment demanded a response. Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “Everything you do is faster than me, obviously,” he griped, throwing Sherlock’s favorite word right back at him. “Doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in all the time.”

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July 1st excerpt:

Stan blinked quickly as he watched Dean step on, and it took him a few seconds to remember to breathe. For all his bluster and readiness to boss around people much taller than him, it was easy to forget just how small Dean was. His every movement, every shift of his minuscule weight, tickled Stan’s palm, and it was all he could do to keep perfectly still. In such a precarious position, Stan certainly didn’t want to knock Dean over with a twitch.