For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.
Out here, among the trees and flowers and the wind, all on her own, Rischa thought she might have a better understanding for why Bowman couldn’t stop flying. He didn’t practice his Prayers very much, but flying filled him with the same feeling, Rischa just knew it.
The girl wove her way among the flowers, picking up petals or leaves here and there to brush a hand along the soft foliage. The sweet scent attracted bees and butterflies above, and Rischa watched the insects drift from flower to flower. They were happy for the nice day, too.
Her shoes pressed lightly in the moss as she wended her way through the flowerbed, and eventually Rischa began to hum again. Her singing voice was strong like her mother’s, clear like a bell and living up to the Songbird name.
A directionless tune floated past her lips and Rischa danced softly among the flowers, letting her connection to the Lady of Life open like she was welcoming a friend. In truth, she was. Her braids, intertwined with supple green blades of grass, flew in the air with every turn as she frolicked.
For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand. (X)
The sun neared its zenith when Rischa managed to excuse herself from lessons. While she stretched her wings luxuriously on the wide balcony of the cottonwood tree, with bars of sunlight bathing the village in light in front of her, Rischa got a notion in her head. She knew without a doubt that if Bowman were there, he’d have the same feeling about the day.
It was a good day for flying.
Bowman was probably already doing exactly that somewhere out in the woods. Rischa stepped over the side of the balcony, her dainty wings spreading wide to carry her on the breeze. She decided she would explore, too, like Bowman did.
She was twelve, now, after all. Rischa might not fly much farther than the usual patrol distance most of the time, but her cousin knew the woods better than anyone. He hadn’t mentioned any dangers nearby.
After many days spent honing her gifts in the cottonwood with the ever wise and patient Cerul, everything blended together. Rischa drifted past the pine tree where she lived with her mama and daddy and Bowman, crossing over the stream and out into the woods. She hummed to herself as she banked upwards, cutting through sunbeams here and there as she set her sights on exploring.
Bowman does this all the time and he’s always happy when he returns, she thought. Time to see what the fuss is about.
Aww, we all have to thank you for all this crazy your prompt gave birth too! I think Brothers Lost will have the most stories out of any of our AUs, based on the amount of ideas we come up with! When your prompt came in was the first time I got an idea that worked with both brothers tiny, and now it’ll never stop!
Hope you like what we came up with! This first story is only the beginning. (Love me some tiny Dean)
Nevertheless, it’s not a prompt I’d do with the brothers. Like I said, Sam’s not skilled with sewing in my ‘verse. If Dean saw Mallory or Krissy at work with a needle, he would be in awe, and the same goes for Oscar, who has his own set of sewing supplies. Sam, however, is more likely to make a mess of things while Dean, despite his thread being closer to yarn for Sam, might have a chance of fixing it. It’s just like fixing up doll clothing, which isn’t impossible, especially for a man used to working with intricate equipment and crafting his own weapons.
If Dean saw Sam working in his journal, on the other hand, he’d be awed by the tiny writing that must be microscopic compared to him. He won’t be able to believe how precise Sam’s writing is.
This won’t be a prompt I’m doing at the time, but @chewbaccaaah actually did a cute short story of exactly this for the contest! Check it out for some sick!Dean and caring Sammy:
It sounds like an adorable idea, but I don’t write any de aged fics. If anyone wants to try, feel more than welcome to, and be sure to share with us! I’ll just stick with my young Sam in Brothers Together and Brothers Asunder.
Worry shone in Dean’s green eyes as he glanced towards the window. The sunset had arched across the sky with scattered red clouds and a shock of the last rays, but now it was dark and foreboding outside. The roaring pattern of rain started up seconds after the rumble of thunder died down.
A light flickered in the room, and that sealed Dean’s resolve. “C’mon guys, game’s over,” he muttered. He slipped off the edge of the bed, padding over to them on socked feet. He sank to the ground, holding his hand out. He didn’t want to risk them out in the room if the power went out. They were too small, and he was too big.
Lightning flashed outside again, and Sam bounced to his feet in surprise. He ran towards Dean’s hand as the thunder rumbled again.
The second rumble of thunder motivated Oscar to bound towards the offered hand, too. He nearly stumbled on the carpet threads, but he managed to keep his feet and run to Dean’s outstretched fingers. He hopped up before the next flicker of all the lamps in the room.
Oscar crouched down on Dean’s palm, looking wide-eyed up at the human. “Th-the thunder’s a lot louder out here than in the walls,” he said. His gaze strayed to the window in time for a more subdued flash and an upswing in the rain. Oscar’s hand found Sam’s arm almost on reflex, anchoring himself to the other kid and knowing he wasn’t by himself while the sky raged outside. “It’s still loud in there, too, though,” he added in a quieter voice.
Dean lifted his hand away from the ground as the two kids huddled together. Before he went to stand, he cupped his hand against his chest, bringing up his second hand to shield them like he was protecting a flickering candle from the wind. Hidden from sight, another human would never know what Dean had cupped against his chest. Two tiny, fragile children that trusted him.
He stood and made his way over to the bed that was farthest from the window. “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Dean promised them while he moved. “You’ll be safe with me, I promise.”
We made it Sam, Dean and Oscar’s first snow day after Sam’s curse!
Oscar found himself with two eager hands around his arm, tugging him out of bed and out of sleepiness. With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes to wake up a little faster.
“Sam?” he slurred. “It isn’t Sat … Saturday again yet, right?” he asked, a yawn cutting his question off in the middle.
“Nope!” Sam said excitedly as bounced to his feet. “It’s even better! ”
While Oscar was waking up, Sam excitedly moved around the room, unable to contain himself. His grey cloth bag from Oscar was slung over his shoulders, and it bumped against his side while he moved. A steady stream of words passed his lips with no way of knowing how much actually sank into Oscar’s mind in his sleepy haze.
“You’ll have to get something to cover up your hands, and maybe some extra shirts,” Sam prattled happily on, “I even have the extra dollhouse shirts that Dean got me on so I keep warm. And nice and warm feet, can’t let them get cold or we’ll have to come in early. I mean, how many times do we get a snowday this early on in the year?!” His eyes shone with his excitement.
“This is something else,” Sam said, keeping his voice at a low level. It felt… eerie, inside the walls. Like he was in another world, almost. He didn’t want to disturb the surroundings, knowing that he was outsized by almost everything in their world.
Oscar smiled faintly. It was easier to see his face in the low light leaking in from a split in the wallpaper above. They were just on the edge of the illumination before it faded into murky darkness in either direction. “It’s not too bad,” he said, nudging a woodchip with his shoe. It, like some other debris, was left behind from when the building was made.
“The path to my house is a lot cleaner, though, ‘cause I don’t want too much dust,” he explained conversationally. Oscar looked in both directions before he nodded to himself, assured of which direction they’d need to go if they wanted to get to his home from here. That was a long walk.
He opened his mouth to say more, but paused, almost frozen, and listened. There was a distant sound in the dust, something moving in the darkness beyond the area they could see. Oscar listened with a look of concentration on his face and turned his eyes towards the source, watching the dark. If they needed to run, they at least had the air duct right there to scurry into.
Oscar could see farther into the dark. When he saw the source of the quiet shuffling, his face broke into a grin. “Oh!” he muttered excitedly, glancing aside to Sam to see if he’d noticed yet.
Sam gasped at the sound, and found himself coughing on some dust he’d inhaled. The sounds echoing in the walls around them didn’t sound like a person’s footsteps, and were far too lightweight to be a human nearby. He couldn’t put an image to what the source was, and worry filled him at the thought of not knowing what was out there.
“Wh-what is it?” Sam asked Oscar tremulously. His hand once again gripped the younger boy’s sleeve, seeking out security. The hilt of his knife brushed against his chest with the movement, reminding him that he may be small, but he had a way to defend himself if he needed it.
Brothers Apart 