drabbles: Superntural and Push - PG, AU, preseries, gen
Title: I’m a kid in a rowboat and you’re the sea
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: pre-series
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 105
Point of view: third
Prompt: gredunza
Dean used to read Dr. Seuss to Sammy, back when Sammy was small enough to crawl in his lap and his name was bigger than himself. Sam’s favorite was Green Eggs and Ham-no surprise there. Dean wasn’t such a big fan of that one, but only because Sam picked it every night.
Sam got older, learned to read, and discovered murder mysteries. He used to complain about the endings being obvious and Dean acted sympathetic, but he really didn’t care. Dean didn’t have time to read.
He still misses Sammy curling up with him, looking at the pictures, laughing at Sam I Am.
Title: little crystals, titillating the light
Fandom: Push
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 90
Point of view: third
Prompt: forever
Sometimes she sees her mom, free from Division, happy and smiling. Sometimes she sees an empty bed in her mom’s cell, and the guards discussing her escape. Sometimes she sees her mom’s wide open, unseeing eyes, and the doctors explaining a bad reaction or an accident (or a suicide).
Her favorite visions are the ones where her mom winks at her and says, soon, baby girl.
Those ones, she knows, will come true. The rest are maybes, but when her mom talks to her… those, she tells Nick about.
Title: There is mud on my feet
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath
Warnings: pre-series
Pairings: none
Rating: G
Wordcount: 115
Point of view: third
Prompt: footprints
“Dean Winchester!” Mommy yells. “What have I told you about wipin’ your feet?”
Dean laughs, trying to muffle it with his fists. He’s crouched in the back of the hall closet.
They’re playing hide-and-seek, but Mommy doesn’t know it. She’s been busy with Sam all afternoon, so Dean’s trying to make her smile. Playing’s fun.
He can hear the laughter in her voice as she says, “Muddy boys have to take baths, Dean. Gotta wash the mud-monsters, find the boys underneath.”
She opens the door and Dean shrieks, jumping at her. She catches him, swings him into her arms.
“Bath time,” Mommy says. She’s smiling.
Dean hugs her neck, glad his plan worked.
Title: dying to say something unanswerable
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath
Warnings: future!fic AU; disturbing
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 180
Point of view: third
Prompt: thorns
Lucifer prunes the roses himself. His servants have tried to take the task, but after a few died bloody, they let it go.
Every day, mid-morning, he spends two hours in the garden. He hums to himself, hymns and classic rock, sings a few words here and there. The moment he notices, he stops.
Sam, he’ll say to the vessel. Still fighting?
Always, his vessel will snarl.
Lucifer will chuckle and look at his roses, flourishing in this new world of his making. Everything but humanity has flourished since Lucifer threw down God. All pockets of resistance have been destroyed and this world is good.
No, the vessel screams every morning. No, Dean’s alive. He is!
Lucifer shushes him and hums a lullaby Dean used to sing, back before everything.
Sometimes, if it’s an exceptionally beautiful morning, Lucifer will sing it to the roses. The vessel will cry, but quiet down to listen.
“Hush, little Sammy, don’t say a word. Dean’s gonna steal you a lightsaber sword. And that if sword don’t gleam, Dean’s gonna steal you a playground swing…”