Torch and samwinchesterseyes wanted a continuation of the sizeshifter Sam AU, so here we are!
Word count: 1907
Together, the Winchesters were able to piece together the events of that night.
Somehow, Sam had grown to a giant, and stopped the werewolf in its tracks. Restrained the werewolf long enough for Dean to dart in, sinking his silver knife into its throat, taking out the threat.
After that, Sam somehow lost his giant stature, diminishing to just a few inches in height. Dean had tracked him down, and pocketed him for safe-keeping.
“I can’t believe you stuck me in a pocket,” Sam muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a thumb.
Dean sent him a side-eyed look, both hands firmly on the wheel of the Impala as they got the hell out of dodge. The last thing they needed was the authorities showing up to a bloody murder scene in a demolished house. As guilty as that would make them look, they’d be lucky if they could pull off an escape before getting thrown in jail.
The night was dark, the sun fallen beneath the horizon long ago. Dean had only stopped at the motel long enough to toss their bags in the back, not bothering to check out. Sam had to stay and wait for him, impatient and antsy, wondering if his strange affliction was over or if it was just beginning.
“Where else was I supposed to put ya?” Dean said defensively. Mirth glinted in his eyes, full of adrenaline from their successful case. “It’s not everyday I find myself a fun-sized brother!
Sam’s face turned red at the idea. “Not funny, Dean!”
Commission for @theskylarksings!
This one is a request for mouthplay, and I chose to go with the Brothers Forgotten pair (from the 2017 contest)!
Sky gets to decide it it’s canon or not, and I hope you love it!
Word count: 979
Warnings: mouthplay, no vore
Motion caught Sam’s attention out of the corner of his eye, and he sent a flat look towards his older brother. “What the hell is it this time,” he sighed, resigned to Dean’s constant fidgets.
In all fairness, the giant had never learned restraint like Sam had. Growing up in the wilderness, alone and abandoned mistakenly by his family, Dean had made do on his own. He’d survived against all odds, managing to not become the monster he was slated to become by the witch who cursed him.
Changed into a giant, separated from his family, simply assumed that he would lose touch with humanity and go feral.
Instead, years later Sam had stumbled across him while hunting for a giant, who had been hunting for the actual monster in the area, following his own code of morals to help people, even those that condemned him.
Dean froze under Sam’s scrutiny, his pinky in the corner of his mouth worrying something there. He slowly removed it, his ears faintly flushed.
“Just… something in my teeth,” he muttered, turning away from Sam.
“Hey!” Sam didn’t like the look on Dean’s face. More self-conscious than normal. He slid off the hood of the Impala, leaving his laptop open next to his bag and forgetting about both promptly.
Anyone that came out here to steal a laptop out from under a giant’s nose had another thing coming.
“What’s the matter?” Sam put his hands on his hips, briefly feeling like he was occasionally scolding a kid when Dean started acting oddly.
Dean glanced at him, fiddling absently with his hands in his lap. “That’s it,” he protested stubbornly. “Got something stuck in my teeth, can’t get it out.” He flared out his fingers and wiggled them at Sam. “See?”
None of the fingernails were more than nubs, and Sam had a sudden realization that Dean, without access to a lot of quality of life items, likely chewed them short if they got too long. As such, he was left without a nail to help him free– whatever it was.
Sam sighed. I’m going to regret this.
Commission for @torchmlp!
Torch requested a whole new AU where Sam and Dean discover a shocking surprise– Sam’s a sizeshifter!
New Sizeshifter!Sam AU
Word count: 1588
Warnings: Minor character death
Following Dean’s gesture, Sam took the right and Dean went left, both scoping out the downstairs of the house they were in.
This abandoned house was marked on their map as the most likely location of a lone werewolf’s lair. Each missing person in town over the last few months had gone missing within a mile radius, no one remembered anyone coming or going from this house but reports of the lights on at odd hours had come into the police station, and, most important, the missing person’s reports all came in during the full moon.
Your amazing guessing skills continue! One letter off the title once again, earning everyone a sneak peek at the continuation of Brothers Consulted with–
A Burglary at Baker Street
Dazed and bruised, Sam was operating wholly on instinct as he heard someone entering the flat. “You son of a bitch,” he slurred, weakly trying to push Mark’s arm from where it was braced to pin him down.
Instincts guided his other hand, and Sam’s fingers wrapped around a familiar hilt. One he’d always kept at his side, but never wielded against another person.
In a flash, Sam’s silver knife was at Mark’s throat, trying to force a stalemate.
“Let. Me. Go,” Sam said, his daze shaken off by the adrenaline that surged through his body.
Mark froze at the cool touch of sharp metal against his neck, but his arm remained firm against Sam. He’d had weapons pulled on him before, but he’d never let any of them get this close. Mark’s breathing quickened, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes with every rumbling step ascending the staircase just outside the flat door.
“I-I can’t,” he whimpered.
He shoved his knee into Sam’s stomach, releasing Sam’s collar to jump away from the knife. Tucking his chin in close, he lunged again to land behind Sam, quickly grabbing hold of his arms and twisting them behind his back. His grip on Sam’s knife-wielding wrist was firm, yet he hesitated to deprive him of it.
“Please stop fighting,” he begged, whispering in Sam’s ear as the human outside drew ever nearer. “I don’t want to hurt you. He will.”
Sam snarled, suddenly resembling Dean more than ever as he railed against the inevitable. Even if he escaped, he’d never get away before the human got there.
“Do whatever you want,” Sam growled. “My answer’s not gonna change. Let me go, you sonovabitch.”
Trying to twist away, Sam found Mark’s hold on him too strong. He needed another way out. His mind racing, his lips moved to shoot out more sass and keep Mark distracted.
“So, what is this?” Sam asked derisively. “You’d side with a human over your own kind? Sell us out– For what? Some extra food? ” He snorted. “You’re no better than a pet.” Sam slammed his head back on his last word, aiming to knock Mark out.
Mark flinched back to avoid that fate, unable to dodge a solid blow to the chin. His grip tightened as he reeled back against the books again, the machine attached to him digging sharply into his ribs. He rolled his jaw and winced at the pain blooming across it.
It still hurt less than Sam’s words.
“I don’t have a choice…” Mark’s defensive protest trailed off as the door across the room swung open. If the human overheard him speaking out, Mark would really be in for it.
A tall man in a dark suit and tan wool coat stepped in, his light blond hair slicked back and his cold grey eyes glancing up from his phone to dart around the flat.
“Ma-ark…” he called in singsong.
So, work has been a real pill for @nightmares06 and @neonthewrite both, with night especially taking on a lot of shenanigans that really suck the energy out of the entire day. It’s nuts, folks. We have the upcoming Zelda game coming out to look forward to, but in the meantime I (neon) decided to write a little fluff, and we’re gonna share it with you. Enjoy!
Dean walked briskly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. So long as he didn’t dawdle on his way, people probably wouldn’t notice him. It was a tried-and-true method for sneaking around in plain sight. Dean was no stranger to that. He was no stranger to sneaking into places without paying the admission, either.
He’d never done anything like this before, though. The weight of the responsibility was a lot heavier than the small weight in his front pocket. He couldn’t mess this up.
He made his way to a secluded area that didn’t have many people around. A food vendor was the nearest sign of anyone else, and that guy was about ready to fall asleep under his shade umbrella. Amusement parks didn’t get as much business in the middle of the week during a school year. Kids who played hooky didn’t have anything new to see at the park, so they wandered elsewhere.
Not Dean. He didn’t care for the roller coasters stretching over the trees, but he just knew there would be something like this here if he managed to sneak in.
He found himself on a tidy stone path that wound its way through a miniature village, with tiny houses and miniature farmers tending their gardens. A little trickle of a stream wound around town halls and shops with hand painted signs, and under little bridges no bigger than his hand. Some of the paint was worn off the buildings in the little village, but somehow Dean doubted that would be a problem.
Once he was sure he was alone in the area, Dean found a place at the edge of the mini-village to sit himself down. Then, he finally nudged at his front pocket. “How’s it goin’, fellas?”
A quiet voice grumbled something, and then a teeny elbow jabbed into his chest. Dean watched a tiny shape in his pocket shift, and decided to help out by propping up the flap over it. He let himself grin at the sight.
Sam, not even three inches tall, was the first to climb up the side and grip the edge. His fluffy hair was sticking out at odd angles thanks to the static in the pocket, but it wasn’t nearly as messy as Oscar’s when he followed suit. The even smaller kid could look almost like a dandelion when he woke up in the morning sometimes.
Sam looked around them with wide eyes, while Oscar only barely peeked over the edge of the pocket. The little guy wasn’t quite tall enough to see out, and had to really hang on just to stay up there, but he looked around nervously anyway. Even when he was scared, he’d always tried to stick close to Sam.
“Dean, what’s all that?” Sam asked, looking up.
Dean almost shrugged, but remembered in time that it would jostle the tiny pair in his pocket. He was getting used to that. Somehow. “I figured I’d skip school today, just this once,” he began, heading off Sam’s scolding before it got started, “since it was so nice out. I knew they’d have something like this.”
“Wh-what is it?” Oscar asked, his voice shy and quiet. The kid had come a long way since his fearful glances and squeaks when interacting with Dean. Sometimes the teen wondered if the little guy was just scared as a baseline.
Dean offered him a smile anyway. “Oz, I think you might like checking this place out, if you wanna come out of the pocket,” he said. He pointed at the nearest miniature house. “It might be a little bit lame, but who knows until you look around?”
Sam was practically ready to climb out of the pocket on his own. “Yeah, Oscar, let’s check it out!”
Oscar’s eyes were wide and he glanced around them once more. No other people. It was just one teenager sitting on the ground with two tiny children keeping lookout from his pocket. “O-okay. Maybe just for a little bit.”
That was all the prompting they needed. Dean glanced around once more to make extra sure that no one was watching, and then lowered his hand into the pocket. Sam and Oscar let go of the edge so they could climb onto his curled fingers instead, clinging like the little climbing experts they were.
Dean lifted them out carefully. The contrast between the two kids was always stark when he took them out of hiding. Sam looked around with an innocent curiosity, putting his trust in his big brother to look after them even if he was still nervous about his new size. Oscar always tried to make sure he could hide behind Dean’s thumb or fingers. He wasn’t nervous about the size of everything. He was just nervous.
Dean lowered his hand towards the miniature house. He couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of the two kids scrambling onto the fake grass and standing near the front door. The miniature village was small enough that they almost looked like grown adults next to that house.
Sam bounded up the porch steps and pushed on the door. It swung into the little house, and Dean leaned down to peer into it with them.
“Oscar, let’s go in!” Sam said, turning back.
Oscar was still at the bottom of the steps, staring at the first one. “I-I never saw stairs that I could walk on!” he admitted.
Dean snickered and reached out to nudge Oscar’s shoulder. The little guy looked back at him, startled, but didn’t flinch away from the touch. Dean would count that as a win. “Just give it a try. There might be even more stairs inside.”
Oscar looked back at Sam, who waited eagerly for his friend to join him. Then, he watched his cloth-wrapped feet as they trekked up the few steps onto the porch. “Okay, let’s go see,” he said, letting Sam lead the way into the miniature house.
Dean leaned down further to watch them. He couldn’t hide a grin as Oscar paused in the doorway, swinging the door back and forth on its tiny hinges. The kid had never had anything like that. From what they’d gotten out of him, his door back home was little more than a block of wood he had to strain to push into place.
Oscar glanced out of the house at Dean and grinned. “W-we can go find more stairs and come see you out a window,” he suggested, before closing the door all the way.
Dean smirked, amused and relieved to see that the kids could still play around and be kids, despite everything. He’d make sure to take care of them, even if he looked lame just sitting around in a village of tiny dollhouses. “I’ll be waitin’.”
A short story of Brothers Apart
(It’s been a long time since the last BA update, and we miss them as much as you do! So enjoy this short update from the series from when Jacob discovered exactly what, and who, he missed during the events of A Lich of Sense!)
Jacob Andris sat in what the wood sprites of Wellwood had dubbed “his” clearing. He’d been back to visit as many times as he could manage since he first wandered deep into the forest with his friends and discovered that an entire village of tiny little winged beings lived out there. They remained so isolated from the world that they barely knew humans existed before Jacob and his friends, Bobby and Chase, showed up.
Now, in an autumn a little over a year after he first met Bowman Leafwing, Jacob was back again, watching his small friend wheel about in the air. Bowman’s vibrant green wings contrasted with the trees around them, which were showing their reds and oranges with the turning of the seasons. Soon they would drop to the ground, and winter would be upon the woods.
Bowman was agitated over a long story he’d spent the last several minutes recounting. Jacob knew better than to interrupt even the more outrageous claims from the sprite, so he simply watched, nodding when appropriate. Some parts had the sprite so riled that he nearly derailed his train of thought to grouse about them.
More than once, Jacob had to wonder if there was some kind of special mushroom out in the woods here that might have inspired Bowman’s imaginative tale.
At the same time, a lot of it seemed so plausible. Especially the part about a human catching Bowman and taking him out of the forest. Jacob had to prompt Bowman to move on from describing the many corners found in a human dwelling as the sprite was driven to distraction by the foreign thought.
Bowman’s story also included zombies, of all things. Zombie wolves, raised by a zombie magic user of some kind, that was there to claim sprites for some purpose of which the mere memory made Bowman shudder. If it all really happened, Jacob was loathe to think about the fact that he hadn’t been around to help. His best friend might have faced something straight out of an intense nightmare and he was alone for it.
“So,” Jacob finally interjected when Bowman’s story was winding down, “this Dean guy. After he brought you back to the woods and fought the … life-sick things, he’s an ally now? Him and his sprite-sized brother Sam?” It was one of the more intriguing parts of the story, the possibility of a human who stood the same height as Bowman paired up with a man who fought zombie wolves without flinching.
Bowman flew in a tight spiral, diving downwards so he could stop to hover at Jacob’s eye level. “Yes. He started out blasted rude, grabbing me and keeping me in a pocket. Which, by the way, if you ever try that, I will kick you in the face.”
Jacob held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured the sprite.
Bowman nodded in approval, but he still seemed cynical of something. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he said, narrowing his eyes at Jacob’s face.
Jacob offered him a sheepish grin. “I … well, it’s just pretty out there, is all,” he admitted.
Bowman rolled his eyes. “You always said no one knows the sprites exist, but here I am. Existing.”
“Okay, yeah, but zombies, Bowman?” Jacob shot back, trying to hold back a smirk. At this point, Bowman would be riled up either way. He might as well get some entertainment out of it.
Bowman pointed at him. “They called them that, too,” he insisted. “Zom-bees.” Jacob gave him a skeptical look, and Bowman scowled. “Whatever!” He flew in a wide circle around Jacob’s head, wings rustling. “Do you believe me or not?!” he asked.
“Okay, okay, say I believe something happened,” Jacob conceded. “Did those guys say they’d come back?”
Bowman stopped with a faint rustle of his wings as they shifted to hover. “No, they had to go fight more monsters,” he answered. To Jacob’s continued disbelieving look, Bowman frowned and added hastily “But they left a piece of paper with numbers on it and said I could use it to contact them if we needed help ever again!”
With that announcement, Bowman darted out of the clearing, determination carrying him off like a shot. Jacob flinched from the sudden exit, and then relaxed again. He was intrigued by the promise of solid proof, so he waited.
Since I started getting commissions of my stories, I’ve been slowly compiling a bunch of references to use for these commissions. This new post will cover Sam and Dean both from Brothers Lost:
Before the curse, Dean made Sam a knife for protection. What he rarely mentions in Brothers Apart, at least up until he starts carrying the knife with him in The Schism of Fire and Water, is that he made a knife for himself. So both brothers in Brothers Lost are ready to fight to defend themselves, and they mean business. Don’t let their size deceive you.
Climbing is an essential skill for survival for both of these brothers, and they took advantage of Dean’s budding ability to search out what he needs to find these two. Sam’s was in an obvious area of the room (for them), dropped right in the closet. Dean found his own single prong hook mixed in with miscellaneous trash the fisherman left behind in his room. Without Dean’s knack, they would have overlooked the little silver glint in their hurry to leave when a maid arrived.
Walt made each brother their own bag out of leather. While Sam accepted the bag he was given without issue, Walt ended up making Dean a duffel bag just like he’d had as a kid, before the curse.
Sam gave his arms one last stretch before gathering up his satchel again. “See you bright and early, or whenever you flop out of bed,” he said to Bowman before turning away.
Dean’s body stretched overhead, even flat on his back, so Sam grabbed fistfulls of Dean’s shirt, hauling himself up the hunter. The black flannel shirt Dean was still wearing had a comfortable pocket, the perfect size for Sam to use as a sleeping bag. He’d never tell Dean this, but he sometimes preferred sleeping in there. After a lifetime of being raised to fear humans and after being captured and almost sold off by humans not so ago, sleeping on Dean, Sam’s only real source of safety in world, comforted him.
Nowhere else existed where Sam could guarantee his safety like that. Dean’s rhythmic breathing and the gentle thudding of his heart underneath his body helped soothe him as well.
Once he’d climbed up, Sam walked briskly over, lifting up the pocket flap. Dean rumbled in his sleep as Sam slipped in, getting comfortable. The ground vibrated under him reassuringly.
Dean must have felt Sam climbing his side, because the hand Sam had been sitting on moments ago rose up, stretching protectively over the pocket and Sam. “G’night Sammy,” Dean mumbled before he slipped into sleep again.
Sam smiled. “ ‘Night Dean,” he called up as well, settling comfortably under the shadow of the huge hand. Dean’s thumb rubbed gently up his side once before going slack.
Artwork commissioned from @featherpantsgt!
Oscar scrambled for a grip on the hood, his pale knuckles turning white he held on so hard. “B-but s-school is full of humans!” he stuttered out, his voice barely more than a frightened squeak. He couldn’t fathom how Sam tolerated being around that many bigger folk all gathered in one space.
I don’t think Oscar agrees with Sam about this being a good idea…
Read more here.
Jacob’s been downsized, and Sam rescued him from the witch along with the help of Walt and Mallory! After helping raise the teen as his own little brother, Sam is ready to take Jacob out to the rooms to help gather supplies. Without Walt for a chaperone.
What could go wrong?
The table itself had the standard motel pamphlets sitting on it in the center and a pen that was longer than Sam or Jacob was tall, along with a listing of the channels for the TV. Everything was haphazardly left lying about in a heap, making it hard to tell if there was anything that might not be missed, or anything that could be useful.
When Jacob reached the top, Sam offered him a hand to help him over the edge. He eyed the immense door at the other end of the room while he did so, narrowing his eyes at the serene sunlight that filtered its way into the room.
“Thanks,” Jacob muttered, brushing his hands off on his jeans. He took a second to let himself be in awe of the view this time. The table was barely half the height of an average human. But Jacob might as well be standing on a building a few stories tall. It was still bizarre to him. Sam seemed like he’d gotten used to it, and Jacob was never sure how.
There were some water spots near the edge of the table that suggested a wet cloth had been wiped over it hastily. But that didn’t rule out the possibility of there being crumbs of something left behind on the table. The maids were hasty, most of the time.
Jacob started towards some of the pamphlets left on the table, thinking he’d take a quick glance under them. He shot one look back at where his hook was secure on the edge of the table. It felt weird to leave it behind like that, though he remembered Walt telling him why they did that. Even so, he hated the thought of losing the simple length of twine, since a lot of his lifestyle depended on it now.
Jacob paused and scuffed his boot over a nick in the table, a gouge the length of his arm. He raised an eyebrow at it. “Looks like someone got pissed,” he mused. The solid wood of the table seemed beyond sturdy, considering it was thicker than his body. The thought of someone marring its surface like that (probably by accident even) was almost unsettling. Humans were powerful.
Sam pushed aside a few pamphlets of his own on the other side of the table, even going as far as to check between the pages. “No,” he sighed, “nothing.” Standing, he kicked a few to the side, making one sheaf of paper float down and slide over close to Jacob. “At least we still have the dresser and the nightstand to check. Stuff falls behind the nightstands here all the time and nobody ever checks them.”
Sam made his way over to Jacob, stepping on the papers cautiously so that they didn’t go sliding and send him flying. He ignored how big the letters were compared to his boots, used to seeing the scale difference after thirteen years spent this size. At 23 years of age, he’d been downsized longer than he’d been human. Compared to the scant 3 years that Jacob had under his belt, Sam was a seasoned veteran at this new life.
He had only reached the edge when he heard it.
The thundering growl of an engine right outside the door.
Sam’s heart froze. They were far away from any way out of the room. Far from the vent, and up high on a table. “Fuck,” he cursed. “We’ve gotta go.”
A car door slammed outside.
Commission of the borrowing bros by @mogadeer
Jacob Andris © @neonthewrite