Tag: g/t writing

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January 28th excerpt:

Jacob paused out of respect for Dean’s sheer size. His face was half buried in a pillow, as was his usual, but the sound of his breaths was loudest from where they stood. He was almost twenty times their size, and it was not a difference to take lightly.

After a moment of indecision, Jacob looked to Sam and held up his hands, one flat with the palm up and the other in a fist over it. “Loser wakes the giant?” he asked, his voice so low almost no sound came out.

“Loser has to jump over to the bed to wake the giant,” Sam countered, a smirk growing on his face.

Sneak peek of Brothers Divided

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Brothers Adopted started off with a bang when Dean Winchester discovered a tiny kid in his room. With no idea Jacob Andris was actually family, saved by Dean’s estranged little brother, Sam Winchester, he trapped him under a vase to get to the bottom of why Jacob was in his room. Sam soon showed up to stage a rescue, caught out in the open by Dean, who swiftly figured things out. But…

What if Dean never woke up and found Sam in his room? What would become of Jacob?

“S-Sam, look, I appreciate this, but don’t get yourself caught because of me, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t run fast enough. But you still have a shot here, and who knows? Maybe he’ll let me go?” Jacob tried to offer a casual smile like he actually believed the suggestion.

He tried.

Sam ignored the suggestion as he aimed again. “I’m not leaving you,” he insisted. “Aside from the fact Walt’s already going to kill me, I’m not losing another brother.” He grew silent for a moment with memories of his older brother in mind, then launched the hook in the air. This time it landed on the top. Cautious, Sam carefully drew it towards himself, praying it would catch on the book.

The shot was no good. It slipped off, tumbling towards Sam. With a fast grab, he snatched it out of the air. “Son of a bitch,” Sam hissed, using one of his brother’s favorite curses from when he’d been a human.

He stepped back for the next shot, preparing himself.

The room around them was silent as the hook sailed up into the air. The human over on the bed shifted, but didn’t wake up. Sam froze when the hook landed on the book with a barely audible thump, glancing towards where the huge man was lying.

But he never woke up.

With a sigh, Sam started to tug the hook towards himself. He didn’t know what he’d do if the human woke up. Despite his brave words, his stomach was clenched with fear. No amount of bravado was going to help save them if the man saw him. Sam’s knife would only go so far. It would be like trying to fight a dragon with a pig-sticker.

A few more throws later, and there was no progress. Every time the hook thumped so faintly on top of the bible above, Jacob felt like it made the loudest slamming noise he ever heard. He was astounded that the human never woke up, only shifted once or twice. Something had left the man tired, which was very fortunate for the two on the table.

Or unfortunate, as it was beginning to look. Jacob’s nerves were frayed beyond recognition. He stood at the edge of the small room formed by the glass, his hands pressed against the side while he watched that hook continuously fail to catch on the book or budge it in any way.

It was too heavy. Even Jacob would have a hard time moving the thing. To them, it might as well be a bus.

“Sam,” Jacob hissed, halting him before he wound up for another throw. Jacob’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “It’s not gonna … I mean, even if you somehow manage to pull it down, it’s gonna make a noise he’ll definitely hear. There’s only one climbing rope between us, man.” Jacob rested his forehead against the glass with a quiet thunk and stared at his boots while he let the implications sink in.

Jacob was trapped and the only thing that’d get him out of there was the human asleep across the room.

“He doesn’t realize there are more people like us. Don’t get caught just because I messed up. You’ve got a chance!” Jacob shuddered and he felt a sting in his eyes for what he was asking Sam to do. Asking his adopted brother, the man who’d looked out for him ever since the curse, to abandon him to the whims of an enormous human.

Matching tears sprang to Sam’s eyes, making him blink fast to ward them away. He swallowed thickly, staring across the room at the human that occupied it.

Jacob was right.

If their situations were reversed, they might have a chance. Even if the hook caught on the edge of the bible, Sam wasn’t strong enough to pull it off. Not from below, with no support to draw on. Not with just a thin fishing line to pull with and a hook that wasn’t made to hold onto the pages of a book.

No.

“No,” Sam repeated aloud. Sudden determination filled him even as he was enveloped in hopelessness. “No, I’m not leaving you! He could do anything, he could take you away… he could…”

He trailed off, staring in at Jacob. His unsaid words died on their ears.

He could kill you.

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January 13th excerpt:

“You know,” Sam said, getting one last thought that made him smile, “if you’re the only one that knows camping, you’ll be in charge.”

“Ha,” Jacob scoffed, a grin on his face. He turned onto his side and pulled his own section of the shirt over himself for a blanket. “That’ll be something,” he replied. Jacob, the youngest of the three, in charge.

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January 12th excerpt:

John stiffened when Dean started climbing on him. That was a new one, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment while Dean ran across his thigh, seemingly intent on getting up on his own.

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January 11th excerpt:

Mark cried out in alarm as the hook sank its tooth in inches from where he was crouched. A second later, he felt the air shift behind him, and he whirled around to find the human peering at him through the gap in the chair.

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January 10th excerpt:

Sherlock leaned in as Dean moved away, shifting to his knees and propping a hand on the dirty floor for stability. He was trying to emulate Dean’s line of sight as closely as he could, and puzzle out just what his small companion thought he saw down there.

A small amount of odd discoloration in the dirt along the wall had just caught his eye as Dean looked over his shoulder in annoyance. “Do you have to hover?” he griped up at Sherlock, jerking his head at his shadowed path.

Sherlock’s brow furrowed, looking more than a little offended by the complaint. While he could see he was casting a shadow over Dean, the detective gave a small huff as he pushed himself to his feet. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he side-stepped out of the way of the light, letting it wash over Dean and his goal, and leaned a shoulder against the nearby wall. He gave a flat look and a shrug, as if to say That enough space for you?

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January 9th excerpt:

Dean jabbed Sherlock in the neck. “Give me a hand,” he asked, hoping to avoid the trial of climbing down a human.

Sherlock blinked at the tiny pokes from the man on his shoulder, promptly lifting a hand for Dean to climb onto. Stan’s brow lifted a fraction as he watched the strange pair with unveiled curiosity. The action was so simple, yet it reminded Stan of just how small Dean Winchester actually was. Nearly all of Sherlock’s fingers outsized him, and somehow he could walk onto that hand seemingly without trepidation. Stan had to admire the amount of bravery that must take, entrusting someone so large with your fate.

“Where to?” Sherlock muttered, feeling rather like a taxi. A human taxi for a very small man. His eyes darted around the room, trying to follow Dean’s gaze in case he found something important.

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January 8th excerpt:

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m the normal one in the car. It’s you two that are the giants. And I think I’m adorable.”

Stan had to laugh at that, light and friendly. He wasn’t ridiculing Dean’s perspective, but basking in the relaxed banter going on between them. Once he was assured Dean did exist, his next concern was how he would be to work with. He imagined someone so small would find human beings monstrously large.

Despite being outright called a giant by Dean, Stan didn’t feel like a monster at all.

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January 7th excerpt:

The man was not exactly subtle as he looked over at Sherlock’s shoulder, and that was to Dean’s advantage.

Dean glanced over at Stan, the scarf still draped down around his seat instead of wrapped to keep him hidden. His shoulders remained squared, keeping his bearing as proud as he’d ever been. He might be small, but he wasn’t about to let that get him down now.

“Somethin’ on my face?” Dean asked Stan. He briefly reached up to brush at his hair and make sure it was properly spiked.

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January 6th excerpt:

“I see we’re back to offering hands,” Dean said snidely as he stepped onto Sherlock’s hand. Being grabbed the last few times hadn’t gone unnoticed by the tiny man, though he had more important things on his mind at the time.