Comments | hoodie_time: Challenge 4: Writing Between the Lines / PROMPT POST

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Challenge 4: Writing Between the Lines / PROMPT POST

Mar 13, 2011 18:07

This is the post where you can submit prompts for Writing Between the Lines: A Dean-focused hurt/comfort fic challenge, which is not a regular fic challenge! You can find out more about it HERE.

( Rules for prompting can be found beneath the cut. )

.challenge 4

Comments 252

(The comment has been removed)

roque_clasique March 14 2011, 06:06:06 UTC

That's good.

sistabro March 13 2011, 23:25:10 UTC

This week's theme is crucifixion and it's Meg's turn behind the knife.

Dean had gone first, nailed her up on the splinteriest piece of wood he could find and then got down to business. It took three days before Alistair judged her to be sufficiently tortured.

Dean's hoping to last at least that long, hopefully longer.

vie_dangerouse March 14 2011, 01:30:45 UTC

OMG THIS. I should not even be looking here!! I don't have time! Agh!

sistabro March 14 2011, 01:36:24 UTC

DOOO EEEEET :D

vie_dangerouse March 14 2011, 01:43:19 UTC

I'm sure I'm going to. :)

Thread 8

maypoles March 13 2011, 23:29:56 UTC

Dean has this habit of getting deathly sick in Nebraska that’s really starting to piss Sam off. And when he says it pisses him off, he means it scares the hell out of him.

vie_dangerouse March 15 2011, 03:58:06 UTC

Key word: habit. Agh.

Dean with a head injury, or maybe not... honeylocusttree March 13 2011, 23:33:13 UTC

“The light’s trying to tell me something,” Dean murmured, passing his hands lightly over the wall. “I wish I could hear it.”

“Shh.” Sam took one of his brother’s hands in his own. “C’mon. It’s time to eat.”

“Sam, no. Sammy, I can’t-” he struggled a little, turning his face back toward the wall, brushing the fingers of his free hand above it, over the radiance of the lamp. “I can’t…”

“Hey. Shh.” Sam rested a hand on Dean’s head, turned him gently away. Sometimes that was enough. “Come on, Dean-o. Dinner.”

His brother made a soft noise, a sad little sound. He didn’t usually fight, though. Was generally malleable.

“Shh,” Dean repeated. “Shh.”

--

Everything about his brother was quiet. Had been for as long as Sam could remember. Now Dean stood under the sycamore tree, very still, breathing lightly. His hands hung loose and open and once they trembled, slightly, and then were still.
His eyes were open, wide, and Sam tried not to notice the way they flickered, tracking all over the place. As if the world was full of secrets in plain sight- ( ... )

anonymous March 13 2011, 23:33:32 UTC

He drinks the whiskey morning and night because it’s the only thing that helps ( ... )