Tag: oscar

The Lounge || Genesis (4 of 6)

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With the tables and chairs set up in the diner half, the entertainment half took less time to design.

“Let the games come forth!” he declared loudly, his celestial power rippling through the room. Not only pool tables appeared, but also an arcade section and several tables for playing poker, with specially-designed chips and cards.

The arcade was just as carefully designed, though the pool tables would be pushing it. Instead, smaller versions of the pool tables appeared on the poker tables, giving the smaller counterparts a place to start a game or two.

And with this he smiled, and knew it to be good.

The table they picked was closer to the pool tables than the bar, and the younger Dean gently let the kids down so they could check out the table and chairs made for their size.

Dean grinned at that, pressing his fingertips to the table to give Sam a path to the table. “So we have one order of Mac and fluff,” he said, counting off, “one salad for pint-size, two burgers with everything,” he winked at his younger self, “and what about you, Oz?”

Oscar jolted out of his curious examination of the tiny chairs to look up again. The adult Dean wasn’t as intimidating from up on the table, even if he was one of the tallest humans Oscar had ever seen. He recovered faster, clasping his hands behind his back.

Over the month he spent with Sam and Dean, he’d tried a lot of different foods. While he rifled through the memories, he watched the older Sam climb down Dean’s arm. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to climb a giant. 

Not that Oscar was one to talk about normal.

He realized he had paused, and blurted out the first thing on his mind. “I-I like peanut butter,” he said, his cheeks pink. “Peanut butter sandwiches, I mean.”

Dean smiled. A rare, real smile, not a smirk or a grin. “Sounds like a plan. Watch yourself, pint-size.”

With that last caution and a brief finger to mess up Sam’s hair, Dean walked over to the bar, leaving the kids with his younger brother.

The bartender gave Dean the same, smarmy grin from before. “What can I do you for?” was asked before Dean could recall where he might know the man from.

Dean leaned on the bar like he usually did, looking back at the table. “You got Mac and fluff?” he asked, expecting confusion.

He got none. “Only the best for our young patrons!” the bartender announced, pulling out a small bowl from under the bar as though by magic.

Normally Dean might react to something like that, but something in his mind told him everything was fine, they were all alright.

The bowl was pinched between two of the bartender’s fingers, a tiny metal bit sticking out from under the warming lid. Dean let the man put it on his palm, staring at wonder at eating implements made for Sam’s size. “Ah–“ he stumbled over his words, “a salad, two bacon cheeseburgers with everything, and a peanut and butter sandwich.”

Before Dean’s eyes, a meal fit for everyone there was assembled.

Asks and prompts always open for the Lounge!

The Lounge || Genesis (3 of 6)

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“Let the seats of rest and the tables of support appear!”

Once more, he held out his arms, going for the grandiose. The lights in the slowly-forming bar flickered, and he glanced overhead to see if it was his Father, come to visit a former son.

“C’mon, Dad! Who doesn’t love a little flair with the story!”

No answer was forthcoming, so he turned back to his work.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, but he’d already spotted the person down on the ground.

After the last few years, Dean had spent enough time with people under four inches in height that he was able to spot the kid that stepped out of the shadows the moment he appeared. Tiny, small and scrawny, this kid made the younger Sam look big. If he was over two inches in height, Dean would be surprised.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said, kneeling down and folding his hands together to make himself less threatening. “My name’s Dean.”

“Oscar,” Sam supplied, and the younger Dean nodded, suspiciously eyeing Dean.

Dean had a feeling that his younger counterpart might just try and jump him if he made a move for Oscar, and wondered what their story was. The younger Sam had turned from his game as well to watch what was happening, his eyes wide when he saw Sam on Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey, Oz,” Dean said with a grin. “Good to meetcha!”

Oscar flinched, his mouth falling open. He tilted his head back to meet the older Dean’s eyes. Hearing the nickname that the Dean he knew had come up with, it was easier to believe that this was the same person but with a different life. Somehow. He decided not to try too hard to wrap his head around it.

With his head tilted back, Oscar almost lost his balance. He stumbled backwards, and then heat rose to his cheeks.

“Um,” he said quietly, gripping the strap of his bag. He’d put himself out in the open with nowhere to hide. Usually he would feel better if he had something to peek around for something like this.

It seemed like everyone else was looking at him. One, two, three, four sets of eyes, he counted, noticing the man on the taller-Dean’s shoulder at last. That must be another Sam. It had to be, if this was Dean.

“Ummm,” he said again, his brow pinching in confusion. He might have somehow figured out who these men were without any trouble, but knowing what to say was an entirely different beast.

He went with the simplest option, cheeks blushing fire all the while. “Hi … Dean.”

Dean’s grin softened, and Sam waved from his shoulder. “So, you three know each other?” Dean asked, glancing between the two young Winchesters and Oscar on the floor.

Younger Dean nodded sharply, kneeling on the ground to offer Oscar a hand. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, hell, I’ve got nothing but time, apparently,” Dean said, pushing himself to his feet and glancing around the place. “How ‘bout I grab us some drinks and some food, and we can catch up.”

The younger Sam perked up at that. “Does that mean Mac ‘n Cheese with fluff?” he asked excitedly.

Dean shook his head, bemused. Some things never change. “I’ll see what they got, short stuff.”

Oscar appreciated having help off the floor, especially with the older Dean standing tall again. No matter how brave he wanted to be, that was a difficult sight to take in. Oscar barely stood higher than the rubber soles of those huge boots.

Once both Oscar and Sam were in hand, the three youngest occupants of the strange place could pick a table. After exploring the room on his own, Oscar enjoyed the view from his higher perch.

“Dean, you’re gonna get tall,” he pointed out in a low voice.

“Tallest of them all,” the youngest Dean remarked with a smirk, nudging the kids both in the shoulders.

Asks and prompts always open for the Lounge!

The Lounge || Genesis (2 of 6)

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And he said “Let there be water!”

This time, not only did a water tap appear, an entire bar slowly took shape before his eyes. On it, top shelf whisky winked in the lights, and the labels for Coke and Pepsi stood side-by-side in a long row of names.

He smirked. Whoever said you can’t bend a few rules during creation?

“Hey,” Dean said, coming up behind the kid.

Green eyes flashed at him, then went back to the screen. On it, Mario and Luigi were jumping around. “Hey,” the kid said, unconcerned.

Dean’s eye was drawn down to the part of the arcade machine the kid was leaning on, widening when he saw movement.

“Hey!” yelled another kid, younger and with floppy brown hair, at his own arcade machine that couldn’t be taller than four inches.

“Dean are you–” Sam started.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured back.

It was them.

From the look of things, the Sam and Dean Winchester standing in front of them couldn’t have been more than ten and fourteen years of age, right about the time Sam was cursed. But– they’d been separated at that age, and these two definitely hadn’t.

“You can play if you want,” the younger Dean said, jabbing an elbow at the machine next to him. “They’ve all got controls made for Sam’s size, if he wants to join in.”

“How do you–“

“Just do,” younger Dean shrugged. “You kinda… pick up things while you’re here. Oscar’s around, if you want to see him.” He stared down at the machine, missing a control and letting Sam get the best of him in their match. Something was hanging over the younger Dean’s head. “He’s been checking things out. He doesn’t really want to… leave.”

Leaving was indeed the last thing on Oscar’s mind as he hesitated under one of the nearby chairs. Confusion left room for little else. He had no idea how he’d come to be there, and he was way too shy to ask the man that stood behind the tall bar. He could climb up there with ease if he wanted, but he avoided that side of the room.

It would all be so much easier if there was a way into the walls of the place. Every time he tried to find a vent, it was like it was in the corner of his eye. Never in front of him.

Instead, he’d taken to wandering under one of the tables. Sam and Dean had tried to show him the games in those tall, heavy cases, excited voices crowing about unlimited quarters!

Oscar had promised he’d give them a try. He needed to look around first, and clear his head.

Last he knew, he’d been left behind. But now he was back with his friends, in a place none of them really recognized. He didn’t want to leave, because it meant not being able to find them again.

Of course someone else would wander in while he was making the trek back to the human he knew. Oscar wrung his hands while he stood in the shadow of a chair, peering across the floor at the heavy, well-worn boots standing near the arcade machine. That was a tall human, one of the taller ones he’d ever seen.

There was no way Oscar could dart across the floor without the newcomer noticing him.

They were supposed to be safe in whatever this place was. The man at the bar had made sure Oscar knew at least that. He didn’t need to fear anyone that came in, and the promise was made with a confident wink.

Oscar, barely over two inches tall, hesitated anyway.

He shifted his bag around on his shoulder. There were snacks stuffed inside from one of the tables in the room, things he’d saved in case he didn’t feel like climbing back up later. Once he was sure he had the bag secured, he took a step out of the shadow of the chair.

And froze.

He found himself glancing up, up, up at the man’s face, eyes wide at the intensity there. He was so familiar, and at the same time not. Oscar glanced between him and the teenager whose back was turned to him.

"Oh,” he muttered. He thought he might understand. It was hard to wrap his head around it, but like young-Dean said. You kinda pick things up while you’re here.

His next steps were halting and unsure, but Oscar forced himself to walk further in the open anyway. He was just going to cross to the arcade machine. Yeah. Easy as pie, as humans liked to say. Then he could figure out what to do about the fact that there were two Deans.

And one was much older than his own.

Asks and prompts always open for the Lounge!

The Lounge || Genesis (1 of 6)

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Welcome to the AU lounge! A place of relaxation conceived and helped designed by all the readers and visitors to the world of Brothers Apart! Stay awhile, kick up your boots, and have some pie!

In the beginning, he said “Let there be light!”

And with a flourish and a twirl, there was.

It wasn’t the light of his Father, creator of the heaven and the earth, but instead a soft light, the kind that washes over a person and draws them in to welcome them. A light they could be comfortable in.

He smiled, knowing all was good.

They weren’t the first ones there.

Dean paused at the threshold, caught off-guard by the unexpected change of scenery. Gone was the Impala and missing was the forest they’d driven from, leaving Bowman and the Wellwood far behind them.

The lighting reminded Dean of the diners and bars he and Sam visited quite often on the road. Indeed, against the wall was a bar full of top-shelf whiskey, the bartender running it a short man with a vaguely familiar face slowly wiping a glass dry with a bar rag.

The sturdy stools rose up from the ground, intricate filigree decorating the legs. The same patterns made up the sides of the bar, tapering away at the top. The dark wood had been treated with a fine finish, coolly reflecting the lights back.

Over in the corner of the room, past the slew of pool tables and worn booths, a kid was messing around on an old arcade machine, his blond hair tapering to a spike at the front.

“You got it, Sammy,” the kid enthused.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

As he stepped into the diner, the bartender perked up, tossing the clean glass in with the others with a casual motion. It was a miracle it didn’t break or even clatter. “C’mon in, boys!” he called out a welcome. “Drinks and food on the house.”

The plural form directed at Dean brought him up short. “Boys?”

It was then that he realized Sam was nestled in his regular spot, tucked against Dean’s neck and above his collarbone, securely perched. Dean was so accustomed to having Sam there that he hadn’t even noticed. Sam was out in plain view for all to see.

Yet the bartender didn’t look surprised, and Dean started to notice strange details in the bar that he’d missed on first glance.

Small, elevated stands on the surface of the bar, the tapered and filigree edges leading right to them like pathways. Instead of napkins or condiments, these places held miniature versions of the bar and stools, complete with tiny glasses and placemats.

Each table had smaller tables in the center, sometimes with walls guarding them from the outside and sometimes without. Each chair had the filigree pattern, and on closer inspection, Dean found it to be a grid made for small hands and feet to fit into.

Made for people like Sam to climb.

“What is this place?” Sam called out, his grip tight on Dean’s collar as he leaned out to see the bartender.

The man shrugged. “A place to rest for weary travelers, until your number is up.”

He pointed above his head. On a large, flat-screen television, words flashed across the screen. Instead of a sports game, three different names were listed, each with its own color.

Family Ties

Chasing Family

The Road Not Taken

“Don’t worry!” the man chirped. “You’d be back soon enough once your time finishes. This place will be hopping in a bit, so better save yourself a pool table.”

Dean frowned, but as the man turned back to his glasses, decided to do some of his own prowling around. Those kids by the arcade machines especially. There was an ache in his heart when he looked at the young teenager.

Couldn’t be more than fifteen.

Asks and prompts always open for the Lounge!

Don’t You Cry (A Brothers Together Short)

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image

“Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like.”

There’s always a risk with Oscar prompts that I’ll end up thinking about Brothers Together Oscar. The little sweetie needs to be checked up on from time to time.

Oscar wished humans didn’t come to his motel to have their fights, but he was used to it by now. The loud, sharp sound of voices so much more powerful than his wavered in the stale air within the walls and the air ducts. Raw emotion that could overwhelm him like a tide ensured that he knew exactly where they were just from the sheer volume. Most of the time, it ended with a door slamming.

He sighed as he wandered his route through the motel. In the vents and the walls, under the floorboards and above the ceiling, Oscar had a routine that he kept to every day. Knowing the schedule and when to nab a stray trinket or dropped piece of food was his entire livelihood.

Today was a good day as far as that was concerned. His bag was comfortably heavy with the spoils of his search for food, and there was even a raisin he was looking forward to eating later. He’d also found a half-emptied packet of tissues underneath a dresser. He carried that under one arm, unsure of what he’d even use it for but glad for the find.

It just figured that a lover’s quarrel would erupt while he was on his way home.

Their voices were raised when he was still in the ceiling of the next room, picking his way over pipes and ceiling tiles or balancing on support boards. They crescendoed as he wriggled into an opening in an air duct, one of his shortcuts on the way home. The usual Why would you do this? and That’s not what I mean! reverberated through his cloth-wrapped feet.

He paused while sidling past the vent opening into their room. The ceiling vent gave him a view of the table below, and the foot of one of the beds. From the looks of things, a woman sat there while a man paced back and forth.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” the man thundered, and Oscar flinched. For a moment, he froze as fear of that voice crept over him. He couldn’t help it.

“Don’t talk to me like that! Don’t! You never just listen to me, you never do!” the woman wailed back. Her voice was closer to breaking. The shrillness hurt Oscar’s ears.

“Listen, honey, I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re the one who keeps screwing up!” the man snapped back.

Oscar frowned. Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like … While the man continued berating the woman, he could swear she started to sob quietly. The raised voice had finally beaten down her defenses.

Oscar couldn’t blame her.

He realized that he’d lingered too long when the man finally stormed to the door of the motel. Light and air flooded in from outside for a moment, and then the door slammed so hard that Oscar almost lost his footing.

He was left stunned while the woman below wept.

Oscar shifted his feet. He should be going. He never liked being privy to what the humans thought were private conversations. Even if they yelled them for anyone to hear, it wasn’t his argument to weigh in on. It wasn’t even his world.

He crossed the vent at last, but then paused when he heard a forlorn, shaky sigh from below. From the new angle, he could see the woman sitting at the edge of the bed, face buried in her hands. She sniffled, and Oscar sighed. The poor girl had been left on her own. Maybe not for good, like Oscar had, but he knew that isolating feeling. Familiar surroundings became warped and inescapable.

He was going through the motions before he could stop to consider it. The packet of tissues, thanks to being half full, fit through the slats of the vent. The plastic rustled so loudly in his ears, and he heard a gasp below as it emerged on the other side.

Once it was pushed enough through to fall to the table below, Oscar turned and bolted. He couldn’t wait around to see how the woman reacted to the sudden appearance of something to dry her eyes. It was too risky. If she found him, he could be trapped.

But she needed something to dry her eyes more than Oscar did. He had his food from the day, and that was the important part.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the help.

Landing (2/2)

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Warning: contains violence and brief descriptions of extreme pain

( x )

By the time he saw light again, Oscar’s tears had stopped once more. The human opened his hand and let Oscar roll harshly onto a new surface, where he lay exhausted for an extra second. The metal was cool to the touch.

“Just a mark for this one,” the gruff human announced. That led Oscar to notice the other human in the room.

“Got it,” they said. It was a much meeker human, but they were no less terrifying. Oscar could only see their back so far as they fiddled with something opposite where he lay. He brushed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Even curiosity was a foreign emotion now. All he knew was fear and resignation.

The room was fairly small, by human standards. Oscar sat on a metal workbench that took up most of one wall. The man who’d carried him in leaned against the frame of an archway leading out one way, a bored look on his face. Another archway led out directly across the room, a trek of several minutes for Oscar but barely two strides for a human.

He didn’t have his climbing hook or his bag, not since Noriko took it away. Oscar didn’t even entertain the notion of trying to climb down. He had nowhere to go.

There was a lamp illuminating where he sat, but Oscar frowned at the human who had his back turned, working away at something on another workbench. There was a faint orange glow over there.

When they turned, they held a long metal rod in one gloved hand. Oscar’s eyes widened and he tried to scoot backwards on the table as the other human’s eyes fell on him. It only took them a few steps to saunter over, smirking down at him.

“Lord, he’s a little one. He’ll barely fit,” they mused. The human’s free hand left their side and descended towards Oscar’s cowering form, and he squeaked in terror. The hand might have blocked the sight of the tool they held in their other hand, but it couldn’t erase the memory of the heat haze coming off of it.

“N-no, please!” Oscar begged, but a finger and thumb pinched around him. He pushed at them, but they turned him over as if he hadn’t moved at all. He squirmed and kicked the best he could, but he was no match.

The human had done this before. Their hand settled over him, their heavy thumb pressing his legs down into the cold metal table. Other fingertips pinned his upper arms down, and his elbows didn’t have a good angle to try and push them away. Oscar’s face was pressed into the table and he could only see the human out of the corner of his eye. A fingertip shoved the hem of his shirt up and the cold air chilled his back like a hundred little needles.

There was a movement of glowing red in the corner of his eye. Warmth replaced the cold.

And then agonizing heat and pain replaced everything. Oscar screamed.

His voice was thready and broken, and he swore his skin sizzled as that hot metal made contact. His mind, in a panic, could only focus on the pain and the contact of the metal on his skin. It didn’t even last a second, and yet he felt like several minutes went by before there was nothing touching him but the table beneath him.

“What the hell?” the gruff human said. Oscar didn’t even flinch. He lay there, suddenly more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life, with his head pounding and his back stinging in the open air.

“I … The rod cooled off,” the smaller human stammered. Their voice was muffled by the throb of pain in Oscar’s head and on his back. “Must … must not have heated it up enough.”

“Well, now his mark’ll be uneven unless you’re more careful,“ the gruff human warned. “We can just hope Carson don’t notice. Just take care of it.”

“Right,” the other human said.

Oscar could hear more metal clattering behind him. He wanted to push himself up and at least try to crawl to safety. Instead, his muscles did nothing but quiver after all the strain. He blinked a few tears away and they fell onto the table. Even hearing those footsteps cross back toward him couldn’t convince his body to run.

The hand returned, pinning him down like before. Oscar finally struggled, but he was even weaker than before. This time, when the radiant heat reached him, it was like it clawed right into the first burn before the red-hot metal actually touched him. His scream pitched upwards. It was too much.

Another eternity with that hot metal against his skin went by. Then, just as the human removed it and cool air swarmed over it, Oscar lost consciousness again.

Landing (1/2)

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It’s been a while since we last checked in on poor little Oscar in the Sad Oscar AU. Where we left off, he was on a plane, shipped off to who-knows-where. What’s on the other side of that trip?

( x )

From the second the plane landed, there wasn’t a still moment. After the rough turbulence of the plane taxiing back onto solid ground, Oscar’s prison was handed off multiple times. Callous voices gave instructions in loud tones. The light filtering through his air holes flickered and shifted, but Oscar lost track of how many doors and windows he passed. All of his effort went to curling up in a corner of his box.

His stomach hurt. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His head was pounding.

He was very, very lost. Even coming down from way up in the sky didn’t change that.

Whoever held his box for the latest car ride hadn’t said a word. They tapped the top occasionally, drumming on his cage with fingers bigger than his body. Oscar’s eyes were already puffy and stinging from so many shed tears, but a few more leaked down his face anyway.

They were in a city. He could hear it. Other cars rumbled by his current transportation, honking or screeching tires. People called to each other, thunderous voices muffled outside the car.

When it came to a stop, Oscar braced for movement like so many times before. There was an explosion of city noise as the door opened, though it was farther away from the worst of it. An almost smoky smell reached him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Soon, he knew, the box would open up. Those fingertips tapping on the lid would dive in to snatch him up. Another human to look him over.

Just like Noriko. Just like Mina. He had been nothing more than a possession in their hands, and it wouldn’t stop now.

More walking, and a door closed behind them to seal off the sound of the city. Oscar sniffled and wished he knew how to prepare. It never became less terrifying. Humans were huge and powerful, and always did what they wanted no matter how he struggled.

“Ah, you’re back,” a voice greeted. It was deeper, male-sounding, but also smooth. Oscar didn’t recognize the accent, but he recognized the tone. People like that came and went at his old motel home. This human was a salesman.

Oscar’s carrier grunted an affirmative. The box jostled and then fell still as they set it down. Oscar barely had time to realize it before the lid came off at last and a bright light flooded in.

After the light, a human hand followed.

It didn’t wrap around him. Instead, a finger and thumb snared the front of his shirt. Oscar gasped as he was yanked upwards, lifting high over a table so the two men could look him over.

The man who held him ignored his squirms and attempts to cling to his fingers. Instead, he grinned at his friend. “I love it when Noriko gets these little things all ready. Does half our work for us, she does.”

“And for the same low price,” the other remarked. Oscar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to cling tighter, but the man never noticed his distress.

He snickered instead. “Love it when the yanks find ‘em. Alright, this one’s looking like he’d get a high bid, so be bloody careful, yeah? Young ones always bring in more but not if they’re damaged..”

Damaged? Oscar opened his eyes in time for the pinch on his shirt to release. He choked on a yelp of terror, only for his fall to end as quickly as it began. He was back in the first human’s hand.

“Full processing?” the human asked, casually curling a thumb inward to prevent Oscar from sitting up or rolling over on his palm.

The salesman eyed Oscar for a moment. Oscar trembled under that gaze; it was just like Mina’s. Cold and calculating. The smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah. We can hold off for now, just take him to get a mark. I’ve heard this one’s very well behaved already.”

Oscar trembled as the chilling words sank in, and then his captor’s hand curled closed over him. He pushed against the fingers in alarm, but they didn’t even slow. He found himself squashed in their grip, completely immobile, while they walked somewhere else. His arms were pinned awkwardly to his chest and his legs were almost crushed in that grip.

Despite having cried off and on for most of his harrowing flight, Oscar found more tears in him as he was carried along. A heavy, thudding pulse pounded all around him, and the human’s body heat created beads of sweat on his forehead. The man’s calluses were rough against his own skin, but Oscar couldn’t avoid them no matter how he struggled.

He was so tired.

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paigethefiremage:

This is my entry for the context @brothersapart is running.

Here we have the AU Lounge, where the characters from six AUs are currently hanging out together: Brothers Found, Brothers Adopted, Brothers Asunder, Brothers Lost, Brothers Consulted, and the Giant Jacob Story (technically not a BAAU, but who could resist the huge dork?).

On Giant Jacob’s shoulder is “his” Sam, and their Dean is the one leaning against the wall. Brothers Lost Jacob is chatting with his Giant self, while Brothers Asunder Jacob is with the Deans from Brothers Adopted and Brothers Found, “his” Bowman flying around him. Brothers Adopted Sam and Jacob are on their Dean’s shoulders, and Brothers Found Sam is on his Dean’s head, feeling tall. Brothers Found Bowman is flying near Giant Jacob’s head. His own Jacob is extra little at the moment, and he’s not sure which extreme is weirder.

Meanwhile, Sherlock is perched thoughtfully on the one couch, and John has found tea and biscuits, which he is sharing with Oscar (from Brothers Adopted) and the littlest Jacob (from Brothers Found). Brothers Lost Sam and Dean are hiding under John’s table. The Brothers Consulted are around somewhere, though not visible, as is Spritely Sam from Brothers Asunder (he’s probably trying to find some plants – the Bowmans keep complaining about all the corners).