November 18th excerpt:
Beyond perplexed, Sam finally brought himself to look at the others on the table with him, a tough effort with two humans only inches away that looked like flies caught in the biggest strip of flypaper ever. He had no idea how he, a four-inch tall man who was caught fast in a trap, was supposed to get Dean out, but he had to try.
November 15th excerpt:
Before Dean had a chance to stride forward and close the distance to the nightstand, the flap on his chest pocket moved, and then Sam poked his head out. If they didn’t know he was there, he would be mistaken for an errant fold in the fabric. Even spotting his head and shoulders peeking over the edge did nothing to ruin that impression.
Sam waved at the others as Dean turned in place and walked over. Neither brother seemed to find it particularly odd to both be doing something completely different, but Walt knew that was just who they were. They worked together seamlessly as a team, no matter how disparate their sizes were.
Better together than apart.
Sam and Dean, after finding themselves lost and alone in England, will get adopted into a small family. Mother, father, very young daughter (Moira is only 6 years old when they find the brothers). The two lost boys have only the clothes on their backs, and they’re surprisingly attached to the design (one of the last connections they have to their father). With the barter system in England, and most of the women around can sew, getting new clothing was simple.
Once they discovered Dean’s knack, it became easy to find things to trade for clothing, and after the brothers killed off a rat, they traded the meat to a tanner to make them both a hefty pair of boots, Dean’s leather jacket (gotta have), and their bags.
Can’t have Dean without his duffel bag, right?
Sweet Moira, by @mogadeer
One of my favorite Disney flicks! Boy, what an ‘Ember Island Players’ moment that would be, though. If the movie did exist, John would probably bring it home on an impulse buy and insist they all watch it, just for funsies.
Despite the different era and the mice, they can’t deny the uncanny resemblances between themselves and the characters in the movie. Sherlock immediately points out that Dawson is exactly John, while the poor doctor wouldn’t say exactly. (”I’m not that round…”) Sherlock, of course, is universally declared to be Basil by all, even hesitantly by the detective himself. I can hear the bros and John pointing at the screen at certain points of the movie and exclaiming, “That’s so you!” to Sherlock, to his bewilderment.
Aaa, it’s been so long since I saw that movie! I think Sam would be pretty amused, and definitely want Sherlock to get a basset hound. Clearly Sherlock needs a dog, right? And Dean is certainly going the hero of the story and save them all.
And, since this actually falls really close, I think you’ve earned a sneak peek of a future planned storyline– for Brothers Apart! Where Sam finds a mouse and Dean dubs him ‘Squeaklock Holmes’ (I wonder how Sherlock would take the name).
Sam couldn’t help a small scoff. “Don’t tell me. I’m not the one you almost killed just now.”
An expression of hurt flashed over Dean’s face at that, but he nodded in understanding. “What’s his name?” he asked gently. Dean had been told in the past how Sam had raised a mouse of his own. Sam had explained to him it was like having a dog, and mice could be just as loyal. The one he’d raised for a few weeks as a child had visited him many times, often bringing him small trinkets.
Sam shook his head, rubbing the russet mouse’s head behind him. “He doesn’t have a name. He’s the one that guided me to the hexbag. They knew it didn’t belong in the walls, and they wanted me to get it out for them.”
Dean’s hand lifted off the floor, reaching towards Sam and the mouse. “Hey, there, little guy,” Dean coaxed, trying to get the mouse out of hiding. “I won’t hurtcha, I promise.”
The mouse let out a little squeak of fear, trying to keep Sam as a barrier between him and the approaching hand. “It’s okay,” Sam said reassuringly, “he really won’t hurt you, now that he knows you’re not attacking me.” He knelt down, putting an arm over the mouse’s back for support and scratching behind a rounded ear.
The mouse relaxed slightly at Sam’s steady calm and twitched his nose hesitantly in the direction of Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean held his hand motionless as the mouse sniffed his finger, letting him familiarize himself with the hunter’s scent. Maybe he recognized Dean’s scent from Sam earlier, because with an approving squeak, the mouse lightly nuzzled his finger in return.
Dean gently ruffled the fur on the top of the mouse’s head. “Well, since Sammy hasn’t given you a name yet, how’s ‘Squeaklock Holmes’ sound?” he asked, eyes flashing briefly to Sam for approval. “After all, he’s quite the mouse detective, finding that hexbag for us.”
October 29th excerpt:
“Guys, guys,” John interrupted, opening one hand in a calming gesture. He at least knew better than to reach for them. His brow quirked at the smaller men’s bickering. The shoving, the name-calling… They really are brothers, he mused with a grin.
October 28th excerpt:
“Told you this was a bad idea,” Sam hissed at Dean, watching John lift a pile of paper into the air that most likely weighed more than the pair of them together.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Him? He’s harmless,” he said. “Sherlock is the one we have to worry about.”
“But–” Sam’s protest cut off in shock when Dean pushed himself away from the side of the couch and went to stroll out into the open. It was too late for Sam to dive forward and grab his arm, and all he could do was watch Dean greet what was, to them, a giant.
They’d be intrigued, but also very wary!
If Sam ran into the smaller brother first, they’d both be so confused by finding another person their size around. Then if the taller brother comes in, Dean might try his best to get between the little guys and the other kid, resulting in two humans bristling at each other while Sam and the little guy realized what was really going on.
“Hey, you know him?”
Confusion ensues while Sam talks Dean down from his overprotective side.
Non-Canon
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own this concept, all rights for the Brothers Lost storyline of cursed!Sam and cursed!Dean with full sized Jacob are owned by @nightmares06 (aka @brothersapart ) and PL1 (aka @neonthewrite )
This is supposed to take place in the Brothers Lost story and is after Jacob has gone on a few hunts with the boys in the Impala when the search for their father wasn’t going so well. This is the only way I could think of for the brothers in BL to meet Charlie and is not canon in any way. Meaning that the canon Brothers Lost story has yet to actually have Jacob and the brothers go on a hunt together. I should probably stop rambling, but I am very anxious about writing non-canon work.
Prompt: What if Jacob, cursed!Sam, and cursed!Dean met Charlie Bradbury?
PART 1
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Author’s note: This is my first g/t story. I also don’t write a lot of non-first person stories. Sorry if this is bad… ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ Oh well! Here goes nothing!
Jacob was sprawled out on the bed with a beer, bored out of his mind. Dean sat on the pillow next to him, content to drink from his bottle cap and watch a rerun of Dr. Sexy MD.
“Any luck finding anything on the newspapers Sam?” Jacob’s loud voice startled Sam up from where he was reading on the table.
“Uhh, I think so!” Sam yelled over. With a grunt, Jacob pushed himself up into a sitting position.
“Watch it gigantor!” Dean growled as he almost lost his bottle cap. Jacob looked over his shoulder at the tiny man. Even after a few hunts with them, he could hardly believe it was all real. If you had told him a year ago that he would be helping two small men find their long lost father, who happened to hunt vampires, then he would have laughed in your face. (Then probably slowly backed away from you.)
Yet here he was, watching Dr. Sexy MD and getting glared at by Dean Winchester, the world’s smallest hunter.
“Sorry,” Jacob apologized, “Want to go check out what Sam found?” He held a hand palm up a few inches away. Dean scowled at it for a second and looked like he was about to object to the teen’s help. Jacob knew Dean was perfectly able to do things himself, but only wanted to help. The way they had met was still prominent in Jacob’s mind, and he was determined to make up for it in any way he could. A quick look up at the kind look on the teen’s face made him heave a resigned sigh.
“Just this once..” Dean mumbled as he got on Jacob’s waiting palm. The younger man quickly grabbed the beer filled bottle cap before it could tip, and placed it on the nightstand next to his beer. His fingers curled around Dean to create a guardrail and held the hand against his chest for stability.
The pillow under him tilted, sending Dean fumbling for a hold on his drink. “Watch it gigantor!” He growled, pairing it with a glare at the now-sitting giant. Jacob might be getting better, but he definitely needs a bit of work.
Dean didn’t even flinch when a hand the size of the Impala flattened itself a few feet away, instead he turned glare over to it. He didn’t need the help! Dean looked back up at Jacob’s kind face and knew that the kid just wanted to help, and wasn’t trying to be condescending. He let out a resigned sigh.
“Fine..” He mumbled, stepping onto the uneven flesh of Jacob’s palm and bracing himself. The usual vertigo struck as Jacob stood to go over to the motel’s table. With careful movements, he sat at one of the cheap motel chairs and let Dean off a few inches from Sam.
“So what do you you have? A case or a lead on Dad?” Dean asked as he neared the article Sam was standing on.
“A case, I think.” Sam answered, and gestured to the police report he was standing on. Dean tried to hide the disappointment in his eyes.
“Let me see.” Jacob said, leaning slightly over to try and see the article with picture of a man in what looked like armor, causing Sam to step back slightly out of instinct. “A… Knight?” Jacob questioned.
“Keep reading,” Sam stepped off the large print, “Ed Nelson, found in his apartment torn limb from limb. No signs of forced entry.
“Maybe a semi competent murderer?” Dean joked.
“Hah, like that would ever happen.” His brother responded with a smirk.
“It’s probably just a vengeful spirit.” Jacob determined as he finished the article, “You wanna check it out?”
“Can’t hurt.” The blonde hunter replied, tiny emerald eyes looking up at the enormous teen.
“This says the vic’s apartment is not far, probably only a five minute drive. We should rest up and visit the crime scene in the morning.”
“Told ya’ you would end up needing the ID!” Dean said smugly. He had made Jacob get a fake ID and FBI suit in the last town over after they had tried to hunt without the FBI disguise, which ended in Jacob almost getting arrested. In the end they ganked the werewolf, and booked it right out of town.
“Alright..” Jacob offered hesitantly and thought about trying to pose as FBI. At least he would have the FBI phone cards that Bobby gave him as backup. Sam got up and stretched, letting out a small yawn. He had been scanning the local papers for a few hours and it was almost midnight. “Sounds like a plan, and we can grab some breakfast at a diner on the way. See you in the morning.”
Jacob stood, towering over the table. He clicked the TV off and almost collapsed into bed. Once Jacob was gone, Sam placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“We will find him, Dean.” He said softly. Dean looked up into Sam’s familiar hazel eyes and gave him a small, forced smile.
“Goodnight Sam.” He started to make his way over to the their nest in the nightstand. Sam looked worriedly after him, not believing that Dean was ok for a second. He followed him after a minute, not pursuing the topic further.
________________________________________Dean grumped the entire way to the car about how early Sam woke him up. Jacob smiled at the half-hearted insults he could hear from the brothers’ perch on his shoulder. He was tall for a human, but this was insane. He felt like an awkward giant around the two cursed brothers that stood under 5 inches tall.
He slid into the sleek, black Impala, trying to get his keys out of his FBI suit pocket without jostling the brothers too much. Finally he grasped the key and turned it in the ignition, triggering a big purr from the classic car’s engine.Dean’s complaints died off when he heard the familiar purr of the Impala. His Impala. Jacob might be driving her, but the sleek black beauty was his birthright. One he thought he lost so many years ago to a witch’s curse that made him stand under 4 inches tall.
“Got the address?” Sam asked Jacob as he pulled out of the motel parking lot.
“Yup.” Jacob unoccupied arm to get out a small pad of paper. “213 Clearview Apartments.”
“I researched the guy a bit while you were getting ready, apparently he was big on “LARPing”” Sam announced the last part with a hesitant emphasis.
“What the hell is LARPing?”
“Live action role playing.” Sam stated matter-of-factly, “I googled it. Word of advice, don’t google it unless you want to see many fat and shirtless men.”
“So he’s a nerd.” Dean stated and muttered a sarcastic, “Awesome,” before threading his hands through the coarse, black threads for stability, and kicking back against the collar of Jacob’s suit. He watched the passing landscape, getting lost in thoughts about what his life could have been like if that stupid witch never showed up that night so many years ago.
________________________________________Jacob slid the Impala into the parallel parking spot in front of the apartment building with ease, and turned off the car.
“You guys want to go in the pocket or stay in the car?” Jacob asked, looking at the brothers in the rearview window.
“I swear to god if you leave us in the car-” Dean started.
“Definitely pocket.” Sam spoke up as he got onto Jacobs waiting hand. Dean pushed up from his position against Jacobs collar and followed his brother. Once both brother’s were ready, Jacob pulled open his suit jacket to expose the inner pocket. They had agreed earlier that the inner pocket to the FBI suit was a better hiding spot than the outer pocket, which was tighter and would show any move the small men made. His hand gently brought Sam and Dean down next to the pocket opening, and they slid in with Dean in the lead.
The giant hand came even with the inner pocket and Dean wasted no time slipping in. He was eager to get up to the crime scene and talk to any witnesses, or at least hear them talk to Jacob. His boots hit the uneven surface and the unstable fabric almost had him falling flat on his face. Sam slipped in next, careful not to fall onto Dean’s head. The pocket held both of them with room to spare, and even after years being stuck at this height, the ground swaying under them when Jacob got out of the car was still a bit surreal.
After an awkward experience of Jacob standing in an elevator with a jogger and her chihuahua, the latter of which would not shut up and Jacob feared Sam and Dean would be found out. Thankfully the jogger got out on a lower level and didn’t see that Jacob was going to the floor where someone had just brutally died.
Ding. The elevator doors slid open, revealing a hallway with several cops occupying the right wing. One looked up at Jacob questioningly as he walked in, only standing when Jacob started making his way over to the side they were on.
“Hey kid, I think you have the wrong apartm-” A lanky red-headed cop started.
“Agent Jim Morrison, FBI. I’m here to look into the death of Ed Nelson.” Jacob flashed his fake badge, and tried to look convincing. He also tried to use his height to his advantage and attempted to look older, hoping it was enough.
The cop muttered something about Jacob’s young age and why the FBI were interested, but lead him past the other cops and into the crime scene anyway.
Ed’s apartment was modest, kept semi-clean aside from a pizza box that was left out. Posters and medieval weapons adorned the walls, confirming Dean’s assumption of the vic being a nerd. Jacob all but gagged when he got into the bedroom, blood was splattered everywhere and the smell was overwhelming. He felt a pang of sympathy for the cursed Winchesters, if the smell was bad for him, he didn’t want to know how bad it got when you’re under half a foot tall.
“You’re just in time, we were about to move the body out.”
Jacob approached the bed, hesitantly lifting up the blood-stained sheet. Ed’s body looked drained of most of his blood, and his eyes were blank and clouded. One last pull to his waist confirmed that his arms and legs were torn off, leaving shredded, bloody nubs.
“Did Ed have any enemies? Anyone who would want to do this to him?” Dean had given Jacob a runthrough of what to ask and what not to ask when they were in the car.
The cop gestured at the white sheet covering the bed and the dead man, “I’ve seen the guy around. He was weird and mostly kept from people, never giving anyone a reason to want to hurt him as far as I know.. Except for the those weirdos that he plays with in the woods.”
“The ‘Larpers’?” Jacob offered.
“Yeah them. In fact, Ed happened to be texting right before his death. With someone named Lance Jacobsen. The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird.” The cop pulled out a silver cell phone from an evidence bag, and opened up to Lance’s most recent conversation.
“Weird how?”
“Like, uh… ‘You shall bleed for your crimes against us,’ followed by the emoticon of a skull.” The officer tilted the phone so Jacob could see, “And, uh, this beauty – ‘I am a mage. I will destroy you.’ These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning,” The cop took his eyes off the body and looked back up to Jacob, “we have him in the interrogation room right now if you want to take first crack at him.” Jacob looked up and his eyes widened at the suggestion, but after staring at the cop like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds, Jacob felt a small kick hit his chest. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself.
“O-oh yeah, sure,” Jacob looked back at the body and had a sudden thought, “Can I see the arms and legs?”
“Oh, yeah. Right over here.” The older cop walked over to the desk, and lifted the top off of two pairs of coolers, “You might want to put these on.” He handed Jacob a pair of sanitary gloves and the reason became apparent very fast when Jacob looked in the coolers at the bloody appendages. Swallowing down a wave of nausea, he tugged both gloves on and reached in for a mangled arm. The wrists were bruised and looked as if they had been restrained by ropes.
“Jesus christ,” Jacob muttered, and turned the arm palm up. A marking on the forearm caught his eye, “What the..” He brushed a thumb across the mark, taking away the blood that covered it. It just looked like a creepy tree tattoo at first, but when he looked closer Jacob realised that the mark looked as if it was part of him. Weird. A quick look confirmed that the other appendages also had rope burns and bruises. Jacob pulled off the gloves and took a picture of the arm mark so that he could show Sam and Dean later.
“Great. I’ll meet you at the station in about 10 minutes.” Jacob regarded the officer with a quick nod and started walking back to the Impala, not wanting to smell the death in that room as much as the small Winchesters in his pocket did.
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Author’s Note: This is supposed to be modeled after the canon case where the brothers look into the deaths of a bunch of LARPers only to find that Charlie was the queen of the LARPing game “Moondoor”. She doesn’t have the alias “Carrie” in this and just goes by Charlie Bradbury. I saw a post about what would happen if Tiny!Sam and Tiny!Dean had to hide from Charlie and pretended to be action figures and decided to write about it. I didn’t want to have it start with no background, so it’s a lot longer then what I thought would be a quick prompt. Woops. Oh well I hope you guys enjoy it!
Edit: @tiny-sam-is-my-jam
@nightmares06 – Oo, tough choices, but I’d go with Sam’s situation. I like the adventurous side of the size shenanigans. Exploring in a huge world, going in the walls (possibly shitting my pants if I see any bugs or spiders), and a sibling to count on.
Also, giant food. Win win.
@neonthewrite – This one’s hard. I rarely imagine myself as the subject of a gt story. In the end, though, I’d feel way more comfortable if I had to be tiny rather than big. It’s easier to hide when I’m self conscious which is like 70 percent of the time.
I wouldn’t want to go it alone, though. I’d want someone I could trust around to help me out with the big ol’ world. And someone’s gotta pay for the giant food (yes I’m using the same argument, that’s the sign of a good argument).
@borrowedtimeandspace – I have to agree, being tiny is the way to go! It’s the main reason I got so into The Borrowers in the first place, imagining myself that small, picturing how big things would look at that size. Yeah bugs would suck, but if I’ve got a tol to lean on, I’d like to think I’d be alright.
Plus, I’d be so nervous around a friend who’s been downsized. I’d do my best to keep them safe, but I’d be on edge 24/7.
Admin note: Asks post once a day in the order they’re received unless they’re decided to be more urgent by an admin. If the answer hasn’t posted, it is likely waiting in the queue, sending in the ask again does not speed up how fast it’s answered.
We heard of that! Sam and Dean will be on the case as soon as they finish up the witch-hunt they’re on! October is a busy month for spooks, and they’ll be on their toes.
Keep safe, nonny!
Brothers Apart 