ohsam is one year old today! You know what that means, right? COMMENT-FIC!
Happy anniversary to us, and it's thanks to you, our fantastic members, who consistently come back and hurt Sammy in new and creative ways! \o/
Now, go and commit comment-fic!
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PLEASE WRITE THIS SOMEONE. PLEASE?
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Take care and Happy Writing!
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It all started with the flu. Or rather, it seemed like it was the flu, so Sam didn’t pay much attention at all. Yeah, there was the requisite fever, but feeling crappy after pulling an all-nighter for term papers was normal, wasn’t it? This was what he’d been striving for; term papers and midterms, clubs and community service, safety instead of seeking out an early death by vengeful spirit or some other supernatural creature. So as he lay in bed, curled up in his dorm room with lights off and blinds closed, Sam took comfort that he was at Stanford and not in the middle of a hunt, digging up some angry ghost’s grave, while he ignored the pangs of wishing that Dean was there to take care of him like always.
Not three hours later, Sam’s roommate Tyson Brady crashed through the door, turned on the lights, and noisily began to dig through the mini-fridge.
“Hey, man, Professor Bergman’s midterm was hella easy. I was actually kinda shocked at ( ... )
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Can't wait to see more!!
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