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01 April 2010 @ 07:46 am
March drabble dump, "lawl" edition  

Becky, the first Supernatural book changed her life

It began with the fight scene.

Sam's fist was caught by an open palm. Before he could blink, he had been turned upside down and thrown onto the carpet. Whoever this was, he was too quick, and too strong, to be a simple thief. He kicked out frantically, trying to right himself, and threw another solid blow at his attacker's face.

Dodged. Again. And then a hand came up and grabbed him by the collar, and Sam was trapped.

Becky's heart was pounding. She couldn't breathe. Not Sam. Not this tall, gorgeous college boy with a tragic childhood, who by the way was totally not Rick Murphy, even though the whole school knew she had a major crush on him and thought the fact his mom died when he was 7 was like the worst thing ever in the whole world. Nooo. This wasn't Rick at all. This was Sam, whom she'd fallen in love with in the previous twenty pages, and he was getting his ass beat by some home invader in the dark? Bull shiiiiit. She read on, breathlessly.

The light flickered on and Sam realized now why he'd been unable to fight off his assailant. This wasn't any old thief. This wasn't any thief at all.

He backed off. "Dean?"

Oh. Oh, of course. She'd almost forgotten the brother existed. He'd barely been in that opening flashback, of course. Whatever. He seemed like a total jerk. There was no way Sam would leave his happy college life and go with...

Sliding into the Impala for the first time in years was like coming home. Sam settled in to the comfortable leather, relaxing. What memories he had in this car. Him and Dad and Dean, listening to music, off to one place or another. Dad up in front, snoring loudly. And Sam and Dean in the back seat, too wired to sleep, having no end of fun.

Ooh. Oh, my. That sounded wrong. And kind of right.

Becky fanned herself, took another big glug of Red Bull, and read on. Rick Murphy had disappeared entirely from her mind.

Dean looked deep into Sam's eyes. His hand was heavy on Sam's shoulder. Sam looked at it, looked at Dean, and knew this wasn't something he could shake off so easily.


The two of them rolled to the ground. Dean looked up from his perch atop Sam. They were safe, if just for now. For a moment he just looked down at his little brother, relieved and pleased. It was just like old times.

Oh, GOD!

By the time they'd gotten rid of the woman in white, she was worried about herself. She was totally not seeing this, was she?

She hurried to the computer and Googled "Supernatural Sam Dean."


The Forums >> Books >> Supernatural by Carver Edlund

Fanfic? Anyone?

OMG have you guys read these books yet? Why is there not more slash out there on this? Please god someone write some Sam/Dean!

And a whole new world opened up to Becky.


an excerpt from Gabrielle's scrolls

...and then like a flash out of the sky came the ring of silver and the bandits knew at once that Xena was upon them Xena and Gabrielle were upon them, the warrior princess and her noble, beautiful sidekick partner companion, her red-blonde hair waving in the wind and her staff pointed forward boldly. "You miscreants!" she bellowed. "You will not thrive in the face of justice!"

The bandits panicked. They had heard of the name of Gabrielle Xena before. Xena made me change this, last time I ever read a work in progress to her. Hasn't she ever heard of poetic license?


Dean, Sam, OFC - "shameless"

Dean wasn't a particularly self-conscious guy. In fact, the word shameless often came to mind. It was certainly in Sam's mind as he watched his brother do some sad adaptation of the honky-tonk with a cute girl in a cowboy hat and cute leather boots, her hair curled in the perfect approximation of a country-gal style. He was whooping and hollering and faking a Texas twang that he would never have in a million years. And the guy wasn't even drunk.

"Who's that fool?" a girl said, plunking down next to him with a beer bottle in her hand.

"He's my--"

Sam stopped short and looked her over. Tall, brunette, with a fuschia-tinted pout and bright green eyes that danced with amusement. And most importantly, no cowboy hat.

He shrugged. "I have no idea."


Claire, Peter, and Sylar babysit Matty

"I still don't see why he has to be here, " Claire said, angling her eyes suspiciously at Sylar.

"Be nice," Peter shushed her, picking up Matty from the crib. "Who's a good boy? Who?"

"Not him," Claire retorted. Peter made a face at her.

"Unlike the two of you, I actually have experience with this kid," Sylar said with a haughty sniff. "When was the last time either of you changed adiaper? Huh?"

"Being inside Matt's head while he was on diaper duty doesn't count."

"Says who?" Sylar and Claire promptly turned their backs to one another, leaving Peter and Matty in the middle looking equally distressed.

"You're upsetting him," Peter said, watching Matty's lower lip as though its trembling might be the portent of an earthquake to come.

"Oh, don't be silly. Wittle Matty wuvs his Uncle Sylar, don't you?" Sylar grabbed for the kid and snatched him roughly from Peter's grip. Admirably enough, Matty's lip stopped quivering, and the baby looked up with too-innocent eyes. He then proceeded to blow spit bubbles at Sylar, gurgling.

Claire began to giggle. "He's spitting at you. Matty's got good instincts, don't you, Matty?" She reached out and ran a hand over the tuft of downy hair covering Matty's scalp. Matty turned to her and grimaced. She drew back. "What-- what was that for?"

"I told you," Peter said, "he doesn't like it when you two bicker."

"Maybe he's just trying to tell me how miserable he is having to look at his face."

And then a lovely stench informed them all of the real reason for Matty's sour look.

"Time for you to go demonstrate those diaper-changing skills," Claire said, wrinkling her nose.

"Don't you have any maternal instincts?"

"I don't even know if I can have kids. I'll leave it to you."

"Remind me again why I let either of you tag along..."


D/C/S/G, "Never Have I Ever"

"I don't quite see the point of this." Castiel was frowning at the array of shot glasses. "There are a lot of things I haven't done."

"The point is to smoke out the things you have done," Dean said, laying a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder. "For example. Never have I ever.... enjoyed a Kenny G song."

"That's unfair. You know I didn't realize the implications of that."

"Really?" Gabriel said, looking at Castiel like he had just swallowed a mouthful of nails. Castiel shot him a dirty look. He was the only one who reached for a shot.

"Fine," he said, a tad belligerently. "If the point is to embarrass you, never have I ever... tried on women's underwear."

Dean and Gabriel both reached for glasses. Gabriel prefaced his shot with "To be fair, I was in a woman's vessel at the time. Just temporarily." Sam's eyes bugged out.

"Oh, this is war now," Dean declared. "You're going to be under the table by the time I'm done with you. Never have I ever... made a hooker scream, and not in the good way."

"You totally can't say that," Sam said.

"I totally can," Dean contended. Nobody even noticed Castiel and Gabriel taking shots.

"Oh, really?" Sam's eyes narrowed, and his lips stretched wide into a smile. "Never have I ever... looked at Dean Winchester and said, damn, who wouldn't tap that?"

"Facts is facts, Sammy," Dean said with a chuckle. His hand met Castiel's over the shot glasses. A few suspicious looks traded back and forth, and they drank their shots in silence.

Gabriel broke up the tension. "All right, you guys, my turn. Never have I ever..."

He fell silent.

"What?" Sam said uncomfortably.

"Honestly?" Gabriel shrugged. "I can't think of anything I've never done."