Tag: pocketed

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January 13th excerpt:

“I understand, Sam,” Stan insisted as he automatically hopped onto the offered hand. He had no desire to get grabbed by anyone else and end up starting this whole process over with someone completely new. Someone who might not be as considerate as Sam and Dean had been.

As he climbed up to Sam’s palm, Stan let one of his hands brush past the pad of the thumb as he passed it by. The insanity of the situation hit Stan all at once, him reassuring the giant as he was about to be pocketed by said giant. He shook his head, pondering this strange existence he led now.

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December 26th excerpt:

Dropping to his knees, Sam had eyes only for Stan. He missed the way Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes above them, his hand wavering slightly under Stan in his distraction. A movement that Sam missed, so slight that it was barely perceptible for the human hunter.

“Hey there,” Sam said, his voice hushed so it was nearly a whisper. He flared his fingers open into a small wave. “My name’s Sam. That’s my brother Dean. What’s your name?” His voice remained level and even, doing what he could to lessen any intimidation to the smaller man. After being left in Dean’s pocket for so long, Sam doubted the guy would be thinking completely straight.

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December 23rd excerpt:

Stan grunted softly as he landed unceremoniously in the bottom of the pocket, but for a moment he was too shocked to move. The human had spared him, trapping him in what looked like a jacket pocket instead of killing him. Stan had to wonder why he was allowed to live, especially as he clung to the material around him to keep himself from being thrown around while the human moved.

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July 5th excerpt:

“Whoa,” Sam said, his eyes wide as he pushed against the fabric to one side. “Are we…?”

Dean glanced behind himself, spotting one of the entrances to the pocket. It was large enough to be a cavern of its own, and he knew how small it would look compared to Jacob. Sam and Dean, two dangerous hunters who were trained to kill monsters without hesitating, were simply a fold in the fabric against Jacob’s stomach.