nightmares06:

21. Music

This prompt takes place between the events of Taken and Schism, while Sam’s arm was healing and Dean stayed at the motel for three months (a record, for Trails West ).


It was late, but Krissy found herself wandering the passageways and vents in the walls on her own.

Normally, she would wait until someone else was willing to go. She didn’t like to venture close to the human rooms on her own. Lessons drilled into her mind from her father and her mother, back in those happy years before everything had changed, taught her the dangers of humanity.

Those lessons stuck fast after her father was gone, and her mother withdrew from the world, leaving Krissy and her young brother Bennett to fend for themselves.

Walt was amazing. He’d come to live with them after Krissy had dragged him out of the ash herself, saving his life as he’d saved theirs since. He helped find enough food for everyone to eat, brought home more supplies than Krissy ever dreamed of finding on her own now that her best friend Sam was gone.

Of course, Sam was back now, along with his older brother.

Dean.

No one had ever expected them to reappear, Krissy least of all. She knew Walt had hoped to see his erstwhile adopted son again, but those were dreams and fantasies best left to musings. Sam appearing on her doorstep had been the last thing she’d ever expected.

And so she wandered, and wondered.

Sam’s arm was broken, so he was staying in the walls with them until he healed. She’d noticed a nervousness about him that hadn’t been there when he left with Dean. It wasn’t hard to figure out that his recent injury had forced him to confront truths better left to the subconscious.

He was afraid, just like her.

Krissy paused at the slits of a vent, drawn to the light. She knew what room she was over, and only just managed to get herself close enough to see out. She didn’t want to risk the human glancing up and seeing her.

The large hunter was sprawled out on his bed. The television was on in the background, but the sound was turned off. In his hand was curled what she’d heard called a… ‘music player,’ or an ‘iPod.’

Humans sure had strange names for things.

Dean was wearing earbuds, so Krissy let her guard relax a little. She could hear the music, a soft rock that Sam had talked about while they were growing up, leaking from the buds. He’d never hear her with those on. Even a hunter’s senses could be dampened down.

For a moment, she stared at him, trying to imagine him standing at the same height as Sam. He didn’t look that scary, not laying on the bed, his eyes closed and his face so peaceful. Kara talked about him nonstop, and for a moment Krissy could see it.

Then her phobia caught up to her and she stumbled away from the edge of the vent. The soft music vanished, and her breath caught as she realized he might have heard that.

“Sam?” came a deep call, a hopeful note resounding in it. For over three weeks Sam had been in the motel, and Krissy knew that he hadn’t gone back to see Dean yet.

She slowed her breathing and pulled herself out of sight around a corner. A shadow dampened the light, and she covered her mouth.

“Sammy? That you? I’ve got some salad, if you wanted to come visit…” Dean’s voice trailed off, sounding forlorn and lost. Krissy had to blink back surprise at that.

The light came back, and she heard the human stomping away.

Maybe she’d see how Sam was feeling. Human or not, Dean sounded lonely. No one deserved to be forgotten like that.

nightmares06:

58. Awaken

This became an interesting exercise and a moment I’ve thought about many times.


The burrow was dark, calm.

In the largest room, the two sentries kept watch. One would occasionally add to the pit of coals, stirring it around with a large stick to keep them from going out. The other paced from the front entrance, which looked out on the field they lived in, all the way to the back entrance, where the creek trickled peacefully by.

Nets, woven by the women, were left in the water. They would be checked first thing in the morning for any minnows that might have found their way into their clutches. The fish would be descaled and would become their meal for the next day. If they caught enough, they might even be able to make fish stew, a staple down in the burrow.

Arthur, the erstwhile leader of the tiny community that lived under the ground in the warrens and tunnels they’d both found and built themselves, slept peacefully through the night.

His young daughter, Alyssa, slept in one of the nearby rooms that branched off of his. She was almost thirteen now, and itched to live in a place of her own like the others. His rule was she had to wait until she was at least fourteen. He didn’t want his only living relation to be too far from him, even in their safe world.

So late that night it was almost morning, there was a rumble overhead. Arthur sat bolt upright, his eyes going straight to the ceiling as dirt and debris rained down on him.

Something was happening.

As he tore out of his home, he shouted to Alyssa, “Stay down here! Don’t come up until we send the signal everything is safe!” She covered her mouth, her green eyes watery from the combination of sleep and fear that hit her.

He reached the top, and one of the wooden spears they sharpened up for protection was thrown to him. Arthur was as prepared as anyone to protect their home, and he caught it with the ease of long years, following the others to the main entrance.

Loud barks drowned out the rumbles, and Arthur and the others skid to a halt at the sight before their eyes.

The new dog that lived up at the House they’d come from was there, but he wasn’t the source of the angry snarls and scratch marks that marred the entrance. The massive black Rottweiler was holding another animal pinned to the ground, a raccoon whose dexterous claws could reach into the burrow and pull people out to snack on if they happened too close to an entrance while it was around.

With a resounding growl, the dog bared its teeth. They sealed around the raccoon’s throat, and ended the threat.

Even Arthur, with long years and harsh days behind him already, had to look away. The dog didn’t leave the corpse there, sitting on their front doorstep. It pulled the raccoon away, and vanished into the stalks of grass.

Long moments passed, and Arthur waited with the sentries and defenders. His arms shook, knowing they were helpless if the dog came back and wanted to dig up their home.

Ten long, arduous minutes passed before they heard anything else. Panting, the dog trotted up out of the grass. Arthur snapped his spear up, holding it defensively in front of him. The others followed suit.

Instead of an attack, the dog sniffed towards the entrance and let out a long, whining growl. It stretched out on its belly, expressive brown eyes blinking at the people guarding their home.

“I don’t believe it,” Arthur heard a voice say, and was shocked to find it was his own.

His spear dropping to the ground, he found himself taking a step forward.

“Arthur, get back here!” one of the others snapped, and he recognized Neera’s voice.

He waved her off.

The dog simply watched his approach, nose twitching as he came in range. He held up his hands. “Thank you for saving us,” Arthur enunciated carefully, laying a hand on the dog’s snout.

The chocolate brown eyes closed, and to his surprise, the dog let out a moan of contentment. Arthur’s face split into a grin, and he rubbed the fur with greater abandon, thanking their protector.

And so Arthur and his people adopted Rumsfeld much the same way as Rumsfeld adopted them.

Oscar Meets Jacob (4/5)

neonthewrite:

Reading Time: ~5-10 minutes

(x)


Oscar’s shuddering never stopped. His heart pounded in his little chest and he had his arms tucked close to his chest while he gripped the strap of his cloth bag in terror. Wide eyes stared up at the human and waited for one of those enormous hands to return.

Oscar couldn’t stop anything that happened to him. He was too small.

“B-but I …” he began weakly, only to falter again. He took a slow, rattling breath and felt the telltale sting of more tears in his eyes. The human had asked him not to run off. Would he stop Oscar from trying? “I-I just … I don’t …”

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nightmares06:

68. Witchcraft

Well, I think this is as good a time as any for a visit from my favorite witch herself, Celeste!


Celeste let a look of disgust cross her face as she stared down her opponent.

The others in the coven were pallid, weak, disgusting excuses for witches. Celeste stood tall, her own powers outstripping them by far.

“I will not share my secrets with others,” she declared loudly, her eyes bright with distaste for having to deal with such lowly servants.

The leader stood, slowly uncoiling from her stone chair. “You stand against us?” she ask in a throaty growl, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing.

“I do not care where you stand,” Celeste replied back, her voice as mild as it ever was. Blonde, tall, and busty, she cut an intimidating figure wherever she went, a boon to the glamor she wore to cover up her true form. If they could see her original body… well these women would not be so keen on learning her secrets. Not all paths were desired, no matter that immortality could be hers to give and share with them.

“You must stop you experiments,” the leader commanded. Black robes coiled around her, sometimes giving the impression of smoke.

Even their glamor was predictable.

“Perhaps you would like to be the next I experiment on,” Celeste said, still mild.

A collective gasp came from those ringing where she stood. “But I thought it only worked on children! ” a woman on the left exclaimed. Her child was one of the ones Celeste had taken for herself.

Celeste stared straight at her, refusing to allow these women anonymity. “You know nothing of me. And little of my powers.”

Bored with the conclave, she ripped her hand through the air. The leader of the coven was tossed against the wall, and Celeste advanced while the others withdrew.

“You will not interfere with me,” Celeste hissed. “Or I shall have your entrails for dinner. I have been given a task by he who rules Hell himself, and no one shall stand in my way.”

Then she was gone, and all that proved she’d been there was a brand, burned into the lead witch’s forehead and glowing with the brightness of the sun. The women wailed as they read the message she had left.

Her true name.

Doing Good, Kiddo?

neonthewrite:

Jacob Andris – Fragile. 

From this post.

Reading Time: ~10 Minutes

Jacob Andris at 8 years old. Content Warning: Ailing family member


“Jacob, baby, you can come in the room if you want. He’s awake and we can all talk for a while.” Jacob looked up from his waiting room seat to see his mother’s tired face peeking out of the thick hospital door. The bags under her eyes had become a constant feature of her face, and her curls were always untucked from her hasty ponytails lately.

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Oscar Meets Jacob (3/5)

neonthewrite:

Reading time: ~5-10 minutes

(x)


Jacob’s eyes widened. He let go of the tiny arm and his thumb released the little guy’s legs in pure surprise. The fear on that little face became more obvious just before it disappeared behind the miniature hands. The tiny person drew his knees up to his chest and curled into a protective ball, shoulders bouncing in time with his frantic sobs.

Suddenly, Jacob felt like such an ass.

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nightmares06:

23. Flowers


How could he?

Mallory found herself accidentally ripping the fabric in her aggravation, instead of her nimble fingers slipping between the threads to coax them apart. Dethreading like this was the best way to get workable string, that wasn’t too thick for their delicate skin. Coarse fabric might be fine for humans, with their impervious skin, but it would chafe a person Mallory’s size.

Walt had the audacity to tell her that she needed to stay in the house. As though he couldn’t stay home for once and watch their toddling daughter, only just now taking her first steps.

Bree sat to the side on the floor, enthralled with the fabric toy Mallory had made for her. She hefted it up with a quiet squeal of enjoyment, her mouth widening in a toothy grin. She already had all her front teeth, and the back ones were starting to peek out.

It wasn’t that Mallory didn’t love spending time at home with her daughter. It was the fact that Walt always wanted to keep her inside. He never brought home the right colors for fabric, and she just wanted a chance to go out searching for herself. She could always just leave one night, she supposed, but that wasn’t fair to anyone. At least she knew that Walt was going to be out. He would fret if she vanished, but they couldn’t leave their daughter alone to search.

A scraping sound came from the entrance to their small home under the floorboards, and Mallory glanced up. Walt could be seen coming in with a sheepish look on his face. His hands were tucked behind his back.

Mallory stuck her nose up and turned back to her fabric.

She did her best to ignore him as he came over to her, one hand gently stroking down her back. He gave her neck a kiss, and she tried to squirm away, refusing to let him win his way back so easily.

“I thought things over,” Walt whispered, and that caught her attention. His voice was truly contrite.

She turned to him to grace him with a raised eyebrow and a severe look on her face.

Walt knelt down, his right hand still behind his back. “I talked to Katrine,” he said honestly, but continued before she could berate him for going to her best friend behind her back. “She is going to watch Bree for us tomorrow, so we can go out.” He gave her a hesitant, hopeful smile, pulling his hand from behind his back to reveal a purple snapdragon.

Mallory gasped in surprise as her hands flew to her mouth. The scent that washed over her meant it was a real flower, carefully gathered from outside where the motel they made their home in planted its gardens.

She took it carefully, stroking the soft surface of the flower petal.

“I don’t want to keep you locked up inside,” Walt said, his blue eyes full of remorse. “I just don’t want the humans finding you. You don’t even have a way to defend yourself! I need you – we need you. So… I’m sorry?”

Mallory sighed, and wrapped her arms around him to forgive him. She planted a soft kiss on his lips before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “So where are we going while Kat watches Bree?” she asked, a pleased smile on her face.

Walt put two hands on her shoulders, pushing her away so they could look into each other’s eyes. “I was thinking we could spend some time under the overhang,” he said, his eyes glittering with mischief.

The overhang was one of three places in the motel that they could actually sit outside and watch the world pass them by. Fresh air, the wind on their faces, and enough cover to keep out of sight of any birds of prey that might hover around. Too high up for the humans on the ground to see them. There was another place Walt knew of, one he hadn’t shown her, that he used for his leatherwork. He would stretch out the hides of any rats he found and killed in the motel and leave them to tan.

They’d lived there since before it was a motel, back when Trails West was simply a bed and breakfast. Walt knew the layout of the place better than anyone alive, better than even the humans. He knew where to tap into the water so no one would notice, he knew (and had built, as the humans built) many ways in and out of the rooms near where they lived.

“That sounds wonderful,” Mallory said, leaning her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat. It helped calm her, and took away the rest of her anger from earlier.

Bree giggled over in her place on the floor, and tossed her fabric up.

Watching the World Go By

neonthewrite:

image

Jacob – Rain. 

From this post.

With an unspeaking appearance from @nightmares06‘s cursed Sam Winchester from our collaborative Supernatural AU, Brothers Adopted.

Reading Time: ~10 minutes


Jacob wasn’t allowed to venture off on his own. It hadn’t even been a year since his curse, and the size of everything could still stop him in his tracks sometimes to stare. The thimble they used for water should be too small to fit on his thumb, but he could dip both hands in it. Sam’s climbing hook was fit for a hefty backup weapon if he ever lost his silver knife, when normally it should be pinched in a couple fingers.

Jacob was small, and he wasn’t used to the way everything around him had gotten so huge, so harsh, so loud.

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Oscar Meets Jacob (2/5)

neonthewrite:

Reading time: ~5-10 minutes

(x)


Oscar barely slipped an inch before his back impacted against something wide and warm, with a tough surface and a little give to it. A pulse thudded behind his back and he realized it was the human’s palm.

Then, fingers and a thumb bigger than him snaked into view. They curled around Oscar faster than he could cry out or even lift his own hands to push at them, and soon enough they tightened around his small body. The light from above winked out as Oscar disappeared completely in a fist that could probably smash half his home with ease.

He yelped when a voice, a deep, rumbling voice, boomed overhead. “Gotcha!” The word sent ice into Oscar’s every nerve ending.

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Glow

neonthewrite:

From this post. The word is ‘Moon.’

This is Fairy Tales canon. Bowman is 14.

Reading Time: ~5-10 mins


Bowman couldn’t sleep, and usually when he couldn’t sleep, that meant his wings twitched and he tossed and turned for hours before giving in. Tonight, he wasn’t going to do that. He lay in his bed and almost glared at his window and the serene light that broke through it. The moon cast its cool, sharp glow upon the village of Wellwood in shining bars that mimicked the golden light of its sky sibling.

Moonlight might not be quite as refreshing as the sunlight, but Bowman knew that flying through it was just as peaceful, just as liberating.

He sat up in his bed, the oval-shaped basin in his room, and stretched his wings carefully. Why deny himself a little flying just because his aunt and uncle told him it was too dangerous to go out at night? Their warnings had never been frightening enough to keep him from it. He had to practice to be the best in the village one day, after all.

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