Spnland Challenge Ficlets
Okay, so the winners for Challenge 06 over at Spnland Writing were just posted, and Team Hunter did awesome as always! Yay Team! *grins* I, however, didn't place again. *laughs* At least I'm helping my team with lots and lots of participation votes.
Anyway, I was happy with the little random ficlets I had to write for the challenge so now I'm going to post them here, cause I can. What we had to do was write a scene, existing or completely new, from the POV of an inanimate object in Supernatural. It could pretty much be anything and some people chose plants, or the Amulet, Castiel's trench coat etc. Some of them were really sad, some were pretty funny. These, were mine:
Pairing(s): Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 275
Entry:
Sam & The Table (From the scene in 'Dream a Little Dream of Me')
While many wouldn't believe it, being a table is not easy and certainly not all it's cracked up to be. People throw things on you, gouge your surface, spill strange substances that you try not to think about and then there's the kinky (and heavy, I might add) individuals that think you're actually a chair. Or worse...a bed!
The Winchester boys, for the most part, were no worse than any others that had come before them. Certainly, the guns were novel. The oil used on them after they were cleaned was a little messy but not unpleasant in smell. The older one, Dean, was a bit of a slob when he ate but Sam was more polite. If you ignored the drooling, that is.
That was one thing the table was never going to forget. Sam lieing on its surface, long arms folded up under his head, long legs sprawled out underneath. Must have been one heck of a dream he was having, too, with all the twitching going on. But it was the drooling that was the most memorable, especially with his brother teasing him afterward.
The table always did wonder what exactly it was that Sam had been dreaming about.
No, what with all the odd goings on in the room those days, the young lady that showed up only to walk away with that pretty gun and the boys making weird smelling concoctions and passing out on their beds, the table knew it would never forget those boys. And, if it was honest (and a table is always honest) it always kind of hoped the Winchester boys would be back again someday.
Pairing(s): Dean/Colt 1911
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 437
Entry:
Dean & his Colt 1911
Everyone talks about the Colt, like it's some kind of holy grail of weapons. You can hear the capital letters in the word THE whenever anyone talks about it. In my opinion, it's really just an outdated piece of tin, a one trick pony that's essentially useless as anything but a club the rest of the time.
Me, I'm also a Colt, but you don't hear me going around acting like god's gift to hunters. I'm a 1911, solid, dependable and always a straight shot. Sure, I've got pearl grips and some pretty sweet scrollwork engraving on my barrel, but what really counts isn't all the pretty add-ons.
I know this for a fact because I'm Dean's favorite gun. Yes, THE Dean. I'd roll my eyes, if I had any. Dean's a pretty down-to-earth kind of guy and he's not a fan of bullshit, so I know I'm an awesome piece of equipment because he wouldn't accept anything less.
And, I gotta say, it a great gig. It may not be fun when I get dropped or tossed across the room because the monster of the week wants of piece of my boy but I'm reliable and come through no matter what, so Dean takes amazing care of me because of that.
(Can I just mention how much I hated that rabbit's foot? I mean, Dean actually had a moment of doubt about me because of that stupid thing causing me to misfire. About the only saving grace that filthy scrap of fur had was that it meant I didn't end up shooting either of the boys. Sam may not be mine but Dean's protective of him, so I am too.)
Anyway, I love the way Dean looks after me. He always makes sure I'm perfectly clean, put together just right and well oiled. No rust on this baby, thank you very much! Dean has great hands, by the way. Just in case you're, you know, wondering. And I REALLY can't complain about riding around in the back of his jeans. A holster would probably keep me more secure, but I don't really mind. I mean, if I were human...I think I'd be just a little bit in love with Dean's ass. Just so you know.
Wow, thank god I can't blush.
So, I think I've got a pretty sweet deal and I'm going to do my best to protect Dean as long as I can. (And Sam, too. Can't forget Sammy.) And that old Colt Patterson? It can find itself a nice display case, where it belongs, and leave the real work to the real guns.
Anyway, I was happy with the little random ficlets I had to write for the challenge so now I'm going to post them here, cause I can. What we had to do was write a scene, existing or completely new, from the POV of an inanimate object in Supernatural. It could pretty much be anything and some people chose plants, or the Amulet, Castiel's trench coat etc. Some of them were really sad, some were pretty funny. These, were mine:
Pairing(s): Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 275
Entry:
Sam & The Table (From the scene in 'Dream a Little Dream of Me')
While many wouldn't believe it, being a table is not easy and certainly not all it's cracked up to be. People throw things on you, gouge your surface, spill strange substances that you try not to think about and then there's the kinky (and heavy, I might add) individuals that think you're actually a chair. Or worse...a bed!
The Winchester boys, for the most part, were no worse than any others that had come before them. Certainly, the guns were novel. The oil used on them after they were cleaned was a little messy but not unpleasant in smell. The older one, Dean, was a bit of a slob when he ate but Sam was more polite. If you ignored the drooling, that is.
That was one thing the table was never going to forget. Sam lieing on its surface, long arms folded up under his head, long legs sprawled out underneath. Must have been one heck of a dream he was having, too, with all the twitching going on. But it was the drooling that was the most memorable, especially with his brother teasing him afterward.
The table always did wonder what exactly it was that Sam had been dreaming about.
No, what with all the odd goings on in the room those days, the young lady that showed up only to walk away with that pretty gun and the boys making weird smelling concoctions and passing out on their beds, the table knew it would never forget those boys. And, if it was honest (and a table is always honest) it always kind of hoped the Winchester boys would be back again someday.
Pairing(s): Dean/Colt 1911
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Words: 437
Entry:
Dean & his Colt 1911
Everyone talks about the Colt, like it's some kind of holy grail of weapons. You can hear the capital letters in the word THE whenever anyone talks about it. In my opinion, it's really just an outdated piece of tin, a one trick pony that's essentially useless as anything but a club the rest of the time.
Me, I'm also a Colt, but you don't hear me going around acting like god's gift to hunters. I'm a 1911, solid, dependable and always a straight shot. Sure, I've got pearl grips and some pretty sweet scrollwork engraving on my barrel, but what really counts isn't all the pretty add-ons.
I know this for a fact because I'm Dean's favorite gun. Yes, THE Dean. I'd roll my eyes, if I had any. Dean's a pretty down-to-earth kind of guy and he's not a fan of bullshit, so I know I'm an awesome piece of equipment because he wouldn't accept anything less.
And, I gotta say, it a great gig. It may not be fun when I get dropped or tossed across the room because the monster of the week wants of piece of my boy but I'm reliable and come through no matter what, so Dean takes amazing care of me because of that.
(Can I just mention how much I hated that rabbit's foot? I mean, Dean actually had a moment of doubt about me because of that stupid thing causing me to misfire. About the only saving grace that filthy scrap of fur had was that it meant I didn't end up shooting either of the boys. Sam may not be mine but Dean's protective of him, so I am too.)
Anyway, I love the way Dean looks after me. He always makes sure I'm perfectly clean, put together just right and well oiled. No rust on this baby, thank you very much! Dean has great hands, by the way. Just in case you're, you know, wondering. And I REALLY can't complain about riding around in the back of his jeans. A holster would probably keep me more secure, but I don't really mind. I mean, if I were human...I think I'd be just a little bit in love with Dean's ass. Just so you know.
Wow, thank god I can't blush.
So, I think I've got a pretty sweet deal and I'm going to do my best to protect Dean as long as I can. (And Sam, too. Can't forget Sammy.) And that old Colt Patterson? It can find itself a nice display case, where it belongs, and leave the real work to the real guns.