I’m gonna be honest, I had writer’s block trying to think of what to say in this article. (Ironic, I know)
It wasn’t even so much that I didn’t want to write this article, it was more of… well on one hand, it’s summer now, and I’ve been dying to get back on my bike, and the other hand, I wasn’t sure which direction to take this article.
As I was debating, I discovered (re-remembered?) something: there’s different kinds of writer’s block. They all suck, and are equally as annoying as each other too. But, they all have one thing in common: they can all be broken.
So, no matter which one you’re suffering from, whether it’s Too Many Plot-Lines writers block, Too Many Words, Not Enough Words or anything in between, below are tips I use no matter which type I’m experiencing that (so far) have helped get me out of my writing rut.
1. Switch Up Your Music
I don’t know how you normally write, but for me, I usually have music on. I like pulling the emotion from the songs and using it to help fuel my stories. Not every story has it’s own playlist, but a lot of them do. (Each book does, at least)
There’s only so many songs in the world you like, however, so sometimes, since you’ve got over 100 playlists, the song choices seem to twindle, and there’s usually different phases, where you listen to just the newer songs. While that’s great for your music tastes, it’s leaving your brain in the same set way of thinking. There’s only so many stories you can pull from a song, and even though it might be the perfect song for the emotional value, I bet you probably have an older song (one you no longer listen to) that evokes the same emotion.
I know, I know, “but I don’t wanna listen to an old song! I’ve heard it so many times!” Just… trust me. Sometimes you forget just how powerful your old favourites were. Also, since some time has passed since you’ve heard it, you’ve grown, experienced new things, and might take away different things this time around. You might connect to a different line in the song more then used to, or, you might discover the song has a whole new meaning. (Did you know Night Moves [Bob Seger] is about sex and not dancing?)
2. Stop Writing
If you’re super stuck on a section, take a step back. Go do something else. No, seriously. Have you ever been in the middle of writing and all of a sudden you just can’t… do… words?
Yeah, go take a break. You deserve it. No arguing, you do. Even if you have to get this done, and if you haven’t hit your word count yet, and blah, blah, blah… Stop beating yourself up, bro!
Look, I know it’s easy to fall into the trap of ‘I haven’t done enough writing today/this week/month/year, etc. but seriously? Take a step back. Now, breath. Look at how much you’ve accomplished so far. Count them, make a list if you have to. All the works you’ve finished/published.
Give yourself permission to take a break. You know who’s written less then you this year? Shakespeare. You know who else you’ve written more then?
Edgar Allen Poe
Virginia Wolf
Ernest Hemingway
P Lovecraft
That’s right – you’ve out-written some of the greats this year. Let that sink in.
You deserve a break. Go watch some T.V, go for a walk/run/dance break, eat, and for God’s sake, go to the bathroom! (Don’t worry, we’ve all been there)
You’re a smart cookie, but you won’t magically get past your writer’s block if you’re running in circles. Your brain can’t concentrate, especially if you’re super stressed. It’s one of the worst Catch 22’s there is. You start stressing because you’re not writing, and then you’re not writing because you’re stressed.
3. Write Something Else
You’re a stubborn one, aren’t ya? Alright, fine, if you must continue to write, write something else. Anything else. I’m sure you have some fifty-odd something other projects you could be working on. Blow the dust off that short story you gave up on four months ago when you got that light bulb for the novel you’re writing.
Don’t have any short stories on the go? Start and write one. Right now. Go find a random word generator online, pick 1 word and write a short story about it. In one shot. (Fun side fact, that’s where the Oneshot [term for a short fanfiction story] originated) Right now. Let’s say it should be under 5,000 words (10 Word pages). Short and sweet.
Can’t find any random story-starters? Or, don’t want to spend hours searching through the random generators?
No problem, here:
– Penguin
– Hot pocket
– Sand
– Ties
– Helium
There you go. Now you have no excuses. Stop over-thinking it and just do it.
Seriously, I’ll wait.
Okay, I know there aren’t very many tips on this list, but the most important thing in breaking a writer’s block is to get your brain out of the rut. Get up, dust yourself off, and go do something else for a while. Stop concentrating so hard on the thing you’re stuck on. Subconsciously, you’ll still be wrestiling with it.
Everybody knows you always think of the solution to everything in the shower anyway, so, y’know, relax a little. Just because you work from home doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. (But there will be more on that in another post)
Alright, that’s all for this article. 934 words. I don’t think that’s that bad, considering I started this with writer’s block. There you go, living proof, you can get through it.
Do you have any favourite writer’s block busters you use? Let me know in the comments below!
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Excerpt from my book, Melting Hearts, Sunburns and Tanlines. If you’d like to read more summer/vacation Sabriel fics like this (and see more of Sam in a wet-suit), I’ve left a link to the book at the end.
Enjoy!
“Hey, Ricco,” Gabriel grabbed the attention of one of the waiters passing by, “who’s that?”
The waiter turned in the direction of his nod, “That right there is the Sam Winchester.”
“Sam…” Gabriel trailed off, a smile spreading across his face.
“Mhm, one of our best surf instructors.”
“Surf instructor,” the bruenette parroted, his gaze not leaving the hazel-eyed man, “does he wear that spandex to get better tips?”
Ricco laughed and shook his head, “That’s his wet suit. Anyone going out on a surf board has to wear one.”
“Interesting…” Gabriel trailed off, letting his eyes roam over the giant a few feet away.
Ricco noticed Gabriel’s eyes and perched his hand on his hip, “Don’t go getting your hopes up, Darlin’.”
“W-what,” Gabriel tore his eyes away from the tightly wrapped man, “why not?”
“Well, I’m not one to gossip,” Ricco began, putting the tray he was holding down, before perching on the edge of the lounge chair, “but I heard Lola telling Diamond that he’s off the market.”
“R-really?” Gabriel folded his arms over his chest and pouted.
“’Fraid so,” Ricco turned to give the instructor a once over himself, clicking his tongue, “such a shame.”
“O-okay… thanks.”
“Sorry, Hun,” Ricco gave a sympathetic smile before sashaying away.
Gabriel sat and watched the Greek God bend over to place the surf board in the water, and frowned when he noticed about half the class check him out.
“Oh, my god,” Gabriel breathed as Sam laid down across the board and began wading out into the ocean.
How am I supposed to concentrate on my vacation when that is ten feet away?
*****
“Hi everyone, my name’s Sam,” Sam started his speech, giving the small crowd a big smile, “and I’ll be your surf instructor for the next few weeks,” why do I never get any guy students?, “now, I’m sure some of you might be nervous, and I want you to know,” as he was talking, he noticed a guy on one of the lounge chairs starring at him, “t-that’s totally normal,” he shook his head and brought his attention back to his students, “I don’t want you to worry though, you won’t be learning anything more than some basics. These classes are just so you guys have something to brag about when you go back home.”
He internally groaned as every girl standing in front of him burst out laughing at the terrible joke.
If you could even call it a joke.
Sam glanced back over to the chair and felt a twitch in his suit as the guy was now most definitely undressing him with his eyes while he spoke to one of the waiters.
I told Steve these suits were too tight, He made a mental note to bring it up at the next meeting, as he moved his hands to hide the bulge, at least the guy’s not that bad looking…
“Um, e-excuse me?”
The voice pulled Sam’s thoughts back to the group in front of him, “Y-yes?”
A petite blonde had her hand half raised and her cheeks were burning up, “Is surfing safe?”
Sam looked across all the nervous faces in front of him before clearing his throat, “I personally guarantee that surfing is just as safe as any other sport.”
“But what about sharks,” a bruenette piped up.
Sam chuckled and shook his head, “Despite what you may have seen online, I’m not going to be taking you guys anywhere near shark infested waters. After all,” he winked and gave a sly smile, “you are just beginners.”
He watched as the man on the chair crossed his arms and frowned, still starring at him.
“Now,” Sam clapped his hands once, startling his students, “how about we get you guys in the water?”
He turned around and rolled his eyes at the gasps he heard when he bent over, placing his board in the water before paddling himself out a little. Sam failed at keeping his thoughts off the man on the chair as he paddled out. He’s probably just a tourist who’s never seen surfing in person before. Yeah, he wasn’t starring at you, he was just curious. But then why was he frowning? He shook his head, wanting to dispel the thoughts so he could focus as he stopped paddling and sat up, turning himself around so he could see his students, who were still standing along the water’s edge.
“See,” He kicked up some water with his feet and smiled, “no sharks.”
The girls shared a nervous chuckle before one of them finally placed her board in the water and started out. The others watched her for a couple minutes before following suite. As they were catching up, Sam straightened up and found his gaze drifting back to the lounge chair, feeling slightly disappointed when he found it empty.
*****
Gabriel paced the length of his hotel room, thinking of ways he could get to know this Sam Winchester. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t available, he still needed to get closer to him. Talk to him, have him smile at him, oh God that smile, just the thought of what he would smell like coming back to shore after surfing was enough to make Gabriel squirm.
Speaking of smells, he sniffed his armpit and almost gagged, I need a shower. He made his way to the bathroom and stripped, not that surprised to find himself hard. Damn Sam, he started the water, doesn’t even know I exist and he’s already got me raging. Gabriel got into the shower and sighed as the warm water hit his body. He stood there a while, letting his body relax under the cascade of water and found his hand move to his dick. Gabriel began to stroke it gently, unable to keep his mind off the bruenette and how good he would look kneeling in front of him. Yes, Sammy, Gabriel stroked his dick faster as he pictured the surfer licking him up from the base and swirling his tongue around his head.
“Aaahhh,” Gabriel came into his hand and fell forward, head resting against the cool tile of the shower, “damn.”
He stood there a few minutes, catching his breath before he dragged himself to stand back up so he could start washing his body, still tingling from the orgasm. Well, that does it, he smiled and turned off the water, grabbing his towel, tomorrow I learn how to surf.
Written as a Weekend Challenge for the SPN Amino app.
Sabriel
May be a continuation in the future
“Gabriel!”
Sam wiped the sticky substance from his eyes, what the hell is this? Honey? He sniffed his hand and pulled a face, nearly vomiting, definitely not honey. He made his way over to the bathroom, jumping nearly a foot in the air at the sound of a cherry bomb going off. What in the…? In the same instant, feathers fell from the doorway, sticking to his body. For the love of God! Sam huffed in frustration, walking over to the shower, this stuff better wash off. As he was stepping into the shower, he heard the front door open.
Abandoning his shower, he all but ran down the stairs, I’m going to kill you.
“I’m back! The store closed early so I didn’t get as much candy as I originally wanted but I think it’s-”
Gabriel cut himself off as the giant came into eyesight, eyes grazing over the feather-y figure standing before him, corners of his lips twitching up into a smile, “What, uh, what happened?”
Sam crossed his arms over his feathered chest, raising an eyebrow, “What? You don’t recognize your own handiwork?”
The angel-turned-Tricksters’ eyebrows shot up, “You think this was me?”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Oh c’mon, don’t bother with the innocent act – who else would it have been?”
Gabriel smirked at the giant, taking a few steps closer, “I’ll admit, this,” he plucked a feather from his shoulder, “is pretty funny…”
“But…?”
“But do you really think I’d do this to you?”
Sam eyed him for a moment, weighing the look on his face against previous pranks, he seems genuine… but why would he be so upset I’m covered in feathers? I thought this would be right up his alley.
“I’m upset,” he actually frowned up at the brunette, plucking more feathers from his body, “because look at this! It’s gonna be a bitch to wash off. I’d never do something so mean.”
“Pfft, come on-”
“I’m serious!” The angels’ brows furrowed with concern, “I’d never put your health at risk. Getting covered in this stuff,” he sniffed his fingers, pulling the same disgusted face Sam had, “has got to be bad for your health. I don’t even know what this is.”
Sam felt a chill run down his spine, maybe it really wasn’t him… “But… who else would prank me? Who else could’ve got in here to set it up?”
Gabriel shrugged, “Maybe it was your brother.”
Dean? Sam was more then a little skeptical at that, “Why would he prank me?”
Gabriel shrugged again, picking up the bags of candy, pushing passed the giant to get to the kitchen, “Sammich,” he turned to wink at him after he made it in to the doorway, “all I know is you’re getting your prank from me later tonight.”
One of the fics from my debut fanfiction novella, Don’t Get Caught.
Sabriel, Destiel, Sassy!Cas
Sam lay awake in his bed, too excited to sleep. He rolled over and watched the love of his life snore away as if it were just any other night. That didn’t surprise him–the trouble-maker could sleep through anything. Once, they went to a rock concert for Sam’s birthday–after Gabriel’s question of ‘what do you mean you’ve never been to a concert?’ had cemented them going–and halfway through it, Sam had asked him something only to find he was snoring away as if he were at home.
Sam never understood how the ball of energy was always falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Movies, sure, the giant understood falling asleep there–it’s dark and the chairs are comfortable–but a concert?
I guess some things will just always be a mystery, he sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
He knew that for tomorrow to arrive faster he should really be sleeping–no one wants to look tired on their wedding day–but he just couldn’t seem to calm down enough to rest. His eyes wandered lazily over the familiar outline of the room–the pictures of them together, the dresser, and then there was his suit hanging on the closet door handle.
He couldn’t wait to wear it. Gabriel was going to go nuts over it. He’d been careful not to put it out until after he’d fallen asleep to ensure he wouldn’t sneak a peek. Sam’s eyes ran over his fiancée’s sleeping form with a smile. He couldn’t seem to quell the butterflies that were working themselves up from his stomach and made him tingle all over when he thought of seeing his face light up when he walked in with it on.
*****
“Sammich!”
The six-year-old’s head shot up, half-fearful eyes searching for the source of the voice. He finally spotted the mop of hair bouncing towards him and groaned, Why does he always call me that? It’s not like he hated Gabe, the kid was just super annoying. He was always getting into trouble trying to be funny and Sam didn’t understand where this newfound fascination with him had come from or why. They were practically from different planets–Sam paid attention and did his work and listened to the teacher and Gabe just…. didn’t.
“Hey, Sammy! Why didn’t you sit next to me on the bus?” Gabe pulled a lollipop out of his mouth with a slurp to inspect it.
“I guess I didn’t see you,” Sam didn’t look up from his colouring. Maybe if he didn’t make eye contact, he’d go away.
“You didn’t see me?” Gabe’s head snapped up and he lost his grip on the slobbery lollipop stick, “Awww, man…” It hit the ground with a wet smack. “Grrr… That was my favourite flavour in the whole world!” Gabe pouted and dragged a chair over, “Big dope. I was waving my arms around like this,” demonstrating by waving his arms wildly above his head.
San shrugged, “It’s not my fault you’re short,” trying to hold back a laugh at how stupid he looked.
Gabe flopped his arms back down and plopped himself down in the chair next to Sam, clearly not through bothering him. He hated playtime. It wasn’t fair. They said to play however they wanted, but he always got in trouble for ‘being too noisy’ or ‘being too violent’. They were stupid rules. You shouldn’t tell people to do whatever they wanted if you were just going to yell at them later for doing it, Grown-ups…
That’s why he invented a new game. He was going to get Sam to be his friend.
Sam was the best-behaved–and most boring–kid in the class. It would be fun to see how the teacher would react seeing the best and worst kids in class hanging out together. He was a weirdo, though. The kid almost never spoke, Seriously weird. He’s got like, no friends. Besides the kids who ask him stuff, ’cause of his big, stupid brain. But he never goes to their house. Or plays with them. Or anything. He always just sits there in the corner and colours. The whole time!
Sooo weird… Gabe took it upon himself to teach Sam how to use his playtime effectively. And he knew he was actually helping out the teacher with Sam. He’d overheard her talking about his ‘under-developed social skills’ when he ‘went to the bathroom’ during library. He figured if he could help Sam be more outgoing or at least give him a friend, it’d help get the teacher off his back.
He looked around at the other kids, all of them in groups of two’s or three’s talking excitedly or laughing really loud–and then there was him and Sam, sitting in silence. He shook his head and watched him colour. That just wasn’t what playtime was for.
“Do you want to play with me?” Gabe wiggled his eyebrows.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll get me in trouble.”
“You don’t know that,” Gabe pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Uh, yeah, you will.”
“Shows what you know,” Gabe stuck out his tongue and stuffed crayons into his pants’ pockets. “We only get in trouble if we get caught.”
*****
Cas consulted his clipboard, Room… two-thirty, two-thirty, two-thirty… Wait, they’re both in room two-thirty? Hesitating in front of the closed elevator doors, he peered down the halls to his left and right, eyes narrowed. This can’t be right… Cas growled in frustration, “I don’t have time for this, people!”
“Call front desk extension, Baret Hotel,” he enunciated carefully for the talk-to-dial and a moment later connected with the front desk clerk.
“I’m the wedding planner for the Winchester Wedding party. I’m looking for the room of one of the guests in our party. The groom, actually. I have noted that his partner, Sam Winchester, is in room two-thirty. But the groom’s room is also two-thirty? This wasn’t for the honeymoon, they weren’t supposed to be in the same room.”
The front desk clerk looked up the information while he waited on hold with growing impatience. Gabriel had said it was an emergency and he needed to hurry, Oh-Em-Gee… Did he just put me on hold? Didn’t I just say I was the wedding planner? If this glorified secretarial school drop-out delays the ceremony with his incompetence, I swear to Liza Minnelli I’ll dump a bottle of Egalite on that snow white Persian carpet in the lounge as a permanent reminder not to mess with the clipboard!
The desk clerk came back on the line. Did I say Egalite? Psh, no-no-no, he’s not worth wasting a bottle of good sparkling wine on. I’ll use Merlot. Those bitches will never get that stain out. Cas smirked in mental triumph and looked up at the wall on either side of the elevator, nodding his head as the desk clerk explained the hotel layout, “I see them,” and noted the brass signs with the names of the wings of the hotel. “I see… Horizon and Morning Star. Wait, the room numbers are the same in either wing?”
Cas rolled his eyes, “If I might make a suggestion, honey? If you want your future guests to find their way around your establishment, you may want to rethink your naming convention so anyone with a rudimentary reading comprehension can find their own way around.” He severed the connection with a huff, “The smartest thing that ever came out of that boy’s mouth was probably a penis.”
With a glance back up a the directional signs, Cas ran down the Horizon Wing to the end suite.
“What’s the big emergency?” Cas burst into the room.
“I can’t tie this friggin’ tie!” Gabriel tugged at it in frustration.
“That’s it?” Cas raised an eyebrow, but went to help him anyway.
“Yeah, that’s it! Was this thing designed by NASA or something?” Gabriel grumbled.
“Stop, you’re making it worse,” Cas slapped his hands out of the way. “What in the name of Barbra Streisand did you do to this thing? How could you have known me this long and not know how to properly tie a tie?”
“Sammy’s been doing my ties since prom,” Gabriel confessed with a blush.
Cas chuckled and shook his head, “Of course, he has.”
*****
“Sammich!”
Sam’s head whipped up at the sound and he bounded down the stairs half-dressed, almost beating Dean to the door.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Dean leaned all his weight against the door before Sam could open it.
Sam groaned, “Dean, c’mon!” He worked to get around his older brother to pull it open with no luck.
“Why’re you in such a hurry? You’re not even dressed.”
“We’re getting ready together,” Sam explained with a huff.
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Dean winked.
“Ew, Dean! Gross!”
“Guess you’ve still got a few more years for that to be embarrassing… Unless tonight’s the big night…” Dean laughed suggestively.
“Dean!” Sam grunted, tugging on the door handle again. “Let him in!”
“Tonight’s the big night for what?” John came around the corner into the front hall to see what the boys were fighting about. This time.
“Oh great…” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Dean, let the kid in, it’s freezing outside,” John glowered at his eldest.
Dean took his time moving off the door and sauntered over to stand beside his father. Sam wrenched the door open and had it closed again with Gabriel squished to his chest in the same instant.
“Whoa, Sammy. You miss me or something?” Gabriel hugged him back.
“I haven’t seen you all semester!” Sam squished him closer.
“I know, I missed you, too.”
“You’re cold.” Sam nuzzled his head into his chest.
“It’s cold outside,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Aw, aren’t they adorable?” Dean broke in, smiling as the teenagers jumped apart.
The look of embarrassment on Sam’s face seemed satisfactory enough for him, because he just winked again before leaving.
“Why don’t you two go finish getting ready?” John suggested, much to Sam’s relief.
Sam nodded shyly and dragged Gabriel up the stairs two at a time, not letting go of him until they were in his room with the door closed.
“Damn, Sam, you’re sure eager,” Gabriel plopped himself down on his bed.
“No. I just don’t want you to have to endure my family,” Sam shrugged off the comment and grabbed his blazer off the doorknob.
“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”
“Oh trust me. They’re that bad.”
“All right, I suppose you know them better.”
“Yep.”
Gabriel watched Sam continue to get ready in mild fascination. For someone who always seemed so well-organized, he rushed around his room throwing clothes everywhere like every other person Gabriel had met, himself included, I guess as long as he looks okay at the end, it doesn’t matter. Sam was standing in front of the mirror picking at strands of his hair.
“Are you ready?” Sam’s eyes flicked up to look at his reflection in the mirror.
“Yeah.” Gabriel stood up and gave him a twirl.
“You don’t have your tie on.” Sam frowned, turning around to examine him better.
“Oh, right well… I just figured I already looked awesome without it. Putting it on wouldn’t be fair to the other kids,” Gabriel rubbed a guilty hand across the back of his neck and avoided Sam’s eyes.
“Gabriel…”
“Fine! Fine. I, uh… don’t know how to tie it.” Gabriel pinned his gaze to the floor.
“What?”
“I just, I don’t know. I’m not really the fanciest dresser. It’s never come up before,” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest.
“Do you have it?” Sam went to Gabriel’s rescue.
Gabriel nodded and took the crumbled piece of fabric out of his pants pocket, holding it up in shame. Sam took it delicately and flicked it, somehow getting the wrinkles out before throwing it around his neck and beginning to tie it.
“How do you know how to tie one?”
Sam shrugged, “Dean taught me.”
“Dean doesn’t seem the type to wear a tie, either.”
“He’s not, but he said ‘it’ll come in handy’. And that ‘a real man knows many things, even if he doesn’t always need them’.”
“So, I’m not a real man then?”
“Not until tonight,” Sam winked with a laugh.
“S-Sam! You just made your first dirty joke!” Gabriel wrapped him up in a hug. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Yeah-yeah it’s sooo exciting.”
“But it is! Oh, Sammich, you don’t know how much this means to me. After all this time, so many years, I’ve finally taught you something!” Gabriel gushed and squeezed the giant tighter.
“Okay-okay you taught me something. Now get off me!”
*****
“There. Better?” Cas took a step back to examine his handiwork.
Gabriel ran an appreciative hand down the tie, “How does everyone else know how to do this but me?” He turned left and right to check himself from all angles in the mirror.
“You must’ve missed the meeting. There was a bulletin about it and everything,” Cas smoothed Gabriel’s shirt collar down over the tie around his neck.
“They should really send e-mails out, I’m telling you!” Gabriel flicked lint off his blazer and tugged on the lapels a bit to settle it against his shoulders more securely.
Cas took an appreciative step back, “You look good enough to be seen in public with me.”
“Oh, puh-leeze…” Gabriel smirked. “You wish you looked this good. Hell, everyone wishes they looked this good. Okay,” he clapped both his hands together in expectation, “let’s light this candle. Before something happens.”
Cas rolled his eyes. “Keep the pony in the corral, Mary. Now,” he turned on his heel, “if you have no more emergencies, I’ll get back to running the wedding. Apparently everyone else was dropped on their head as a child and is incapable of making a decision without me.”
“If I look this good,” Gabriel ignored his brother, “then Sam… Oh!” He put his hand over his heart, “Be still my heart. That gorgeous hunk of burning love…” He turned himself left and right again to make another examination of his outfit. Cocking his head to one side, he got a better view of how perky his ass looked in his suit pants and then checked-out his reflection head-on. He put his hands on his hips, “I wonder if Rough Rider makes flame-retardant condoms?”
*****
“You rang?” Dean asked with a smile as he let himself through the hotel suite door.
He looked around with a frown–there were clothes thrown all over the place, and Sam was in the closet throwing more out onto the ground. And he was still in a tank and boxers.
“What the hell, man. You’re not dressed yet? We’re supposed to start in a half-hour.”
“Dean! My life’s over. It’s not here!” Sam gestured to the clothes on the ground, his eyes wild.
“…What’s not here?”
“My tux! You know, the one Gabriel had made for me. For our wedding,” Sam raked his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I know I packed it into the truck we sent ahead. It was in the black suit bag. It had a giant label that I wrote ‘Sam’s tux – do not touch’ on with a Sharpie just to make sure we could find it. But it’s not here!” Sam spun back around to throw more clothes on the ground.
“I’m sure it’s here somewhere. We just gotta look for it. Okay?” Dean put his hands on his brother’s shoulders in reassurance. “Just calm down. I’ll help. I mean, how far could it go. Not like it grew legs, right?”
“Gabriel was so sweet. He booked me time in the spa. You should really go down there, by the way.” He stopped whining momentarily to give his brother an aside about the spa,”I had one of those Rosemary Mint Awakening Body Wraps, y’know? I never knew peppermint could be used like that. Go ahead feel my skin. Seriously, touch it,” he shoved his arm in front of Dean’s face. “By the time I was done the ninety-minute Thai Massage, I was so relaxed. All I wanted to do was get dressed. And now I can’t find my tux,” Sam fanned himself. “This can’t be happening. How could this have happened? I can’t get married in my underwear!” Sam wailed, collapsing in a heap on the ground, holding his head in his hands.
“Whoa, hey… Relax, little brother. Don’t go all drama queen on me now,” Dean held his arms out in front of himself and made a calming gesture in Sam’s direction.. “Look, just stay there. Don’t worry about a thing. I’m the best man. I’m the guy who has your back. I’ll go look for it, okay? I’ll ask Cas. Cas will know. He knows everything,” Dean assured him on his way out of the room
“I don’t know…” Sam looked up with tears in his eyes, “Dean, what if he lost it?”
“You’re kidding, right? This is Cas we’re talking about. There’s no way Cas lost your tux. He loves that thing possibly even more than you do. Seriously, we’ll find it.” Dean assured him before disappearing out the door in a hurry.
I hope.
*****
“Cas!” Dean yelled for his boyfriend. He caught sight of him disappearing into the reception hall. “Marco!”
“Polo-o-o!” Cas sang out and stuck his pen in the air to signal his location. “Can it wait? Kinda busy, hon,” Cas barely looked up from his clipboard as he strode into the room.
“It really can’t,” Dean ran up to him and pecked him on the cheek. “We have a problem.” He put a hand on his arm to get his attention. “Listen, Sam can’t find his tux,” he told him in a lowered tone.
“You shut your mouth,” Cas’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth and stopped dead in his tracks. He skewered him with a withering look, “That’s not funny, babe.”
“Well, I was just in his room. He tore the place apart. Aaand it’s not there.”
“No-no, that’s impossible. I had it sent up to his room personally. It has to be in there. I already checked it off the to-do list.” Cas flipped back a few pages on his clipboard and tapped at a line with the tip of his pen.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man, but it’s not there.” Dean shrugged.
“No, see? It’s the very first thing I did when we arrived. ‘Item 1: Deliver Sam’s tux to his room, Room 230,’” Cas read, tipping the clipboard to show the taller man.
“Please, don’t take my head off, but… are you sure?” Not prone to drama, even Dean was starting to panic. He didn’t want to see the day ruined for his little brother.
“You dare question me? Oh, honey. I had it delivered to room two-thirty, Morning Star, as soon as I got here,” Cas mumbled, looking back over his notes.
“Wait, two-thirty? No, that’s not right. Sam’s in room two-thirty.”
“Right. And Gabriel’s in room two-thirty. But in the other wing. I know because I’m the one who booked the rooms. There’s two wings, Horizon and Morning Star, and the room numbers are the same,” he held up a hand before Dean could say something. “Don’t even. I know. I already had this conversation with the desk clerk,” he rolled his eyes. “Gabriel needed a room on the west side, because none of the east side rooms have enough windows. They were further apart, but at least I didn’t have to deal with Gabriel having a claustrophobic panic attack. I have enough to worry about, y’know.”
Dean threw his hands in the air and pulled a face, “Well, whatever, okay? It’s on the list, but I just came from Sam’s room and I’m telling you, it’s not there. He’s still standing around in his underwear.” Dean crossed his arms. “Ideas?”
Cas closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples with the tips of his fingers, “I smell burnt toast. Does anyone else smell that?” Cas dropped his hands from his temples, “The delivery driver had one job. One job. Did they not give him a map of this establishment? What did I pay him for? Let that be a lesson to you. Never tip until after you see the goods.”
“Cas, focus. You said their room numbers are the same, right? Maybe it’s not lost. What if… What if the courier just got the wings wrong and it’s just in Gabriel’s room?” Dean said with hope.
“No, I don’t think so,” Cas grumbled.
“Don’t be so negative. Why?”
“Because I only saw one tux in Gabriel’s room and he was wearing it.”
“So, you think he’s wearing Sam’s tux? Seriously. And you wouldn’t have noticed this? Remind me to take you to the eye doctor.” Dean gave him a wink, “Sam’s must be there.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was just an honest mistake with the wings and everything. I’ll go check it out and we’ll get it all sorted out and everything will be fine.”
“Honest mistake, my sweet ass,” Cas grumbled
Dean took him by the shoulders and leaned in close to his ear, “And speaking of your sweet ass, will I get to see that later?”
“Dean, focus,” he pushed him off him with a smile. “You, go. I have a million and one things to do in the next,” Cas pulled out his iPhone and check his itinerary, “twenty-four minutes and counting.”
Dean grimaced, “I don’t suppose there’s a way to delay this a bit?”
Cas gave him the Look-Of-Death.
“Ooo-kay then. I’ll just run back up, grab the tux from Gabriel’s room, get Sam into it and we’re golden,” he clapped his hands together.
“Move it, Mister,” he pointed him toward the door. “We’re burning daylight!”
“Next time, I get to plan and you get to run around looking for your little brother.”
Cas looked down his nose at him in judgement, “Honey, I love you, but you couldn’t plan a peanut butter sandwich without me.”
Dean was already heading out of the reception hall and called over his shoulder, “The one time I forgot to pick up peanut butter… You’re never gonna let that one go.”
“Hurry!”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“I’m the wedding planner!” Cas hurled at his retreating back.
Damn it!
*****
“Gabriel, you decent?” Dean called, knocking on the door.
“Gabriel?” He called again after a moment of silence.
He opened the door and stuck his head in, scanning the room for the trouble-maker, but not finding him. A man on a mission, he let himself in and hurried to the closet to look for Sam’s suit. “Gabriel?” He called over his shoulder while he dug around, “Dude, quit playing around.”
After not finding the suit with Gabriel’s other clothes, he took a tour of the room. It wasn’t that big, there were only so many places the suit could be. When it became clear it wasn’t there, he stopped in the centre of the room with his hands on his hips. Now he had two problems. The groom was missing. “Fuck,” he hung his head in defeat. “Cas’s is gonna kill me.”
He pulled out his phone with a heavy sigh, “How’s my favourite wedding planner?”
“What?”
“We have another problem.”
“No.”
“Cas…”
“Fine. What is it now.”
“Uh, I can’t find Gabriel.”
Will they find Gabriel? What about Sam’s tux? Is the wedding ruined? Find out how it ends here!
The sound of a door slamming open startles me out of my sleep. My eyes go wide as I see him, standing in the doorway, small light that’s spilled into the room lighting up his features, showing us the true menace in all his glory. He laughs as he takes a step in and hears some of us gasp. There’s a flash of metal, and something else is dripping off his free hand. I swallow hard as the smell fills the room and close my eyes momentarily to keep myself from vomiting at the thought, blood.
His eyes scan the room, hungrily, “Who’s next?”
The room explodes with cries, and screams. Everyone begins scrambling, trying to move backward. A feat that’s near impossible because of the shear number of us. We’re stuffed pretty much wall to wall, barely enough space to turn around, let alone stretch out our legs, or run. I’m pretty far back from the door, but that won’t matter for long. Not with how quickly they’ve been taking us. In droves, it seems. Each time they take more and more, ripping us away from our family and friends, we scream at them not to, but they never listen. True evil.
He stalks slowly over to one corner of the room, I see a few duck, a last attempt to hide from his callous hands. The room goes silent as he bends down, I crane my neck fighting to see who he’s taking. I can barely see over everyone in front of me, but I’m able to make out the small cluster he’s in front of moves back as if they were one, leaving a child out in front of them. Like an offering. I fail to swallow the disgust I feel building in my throat.
He laughs again, features twisting up into a smirk as he bends down, picking the child up by the leg, “Guess it’s your lucky day.”
I watch helplessly as he turns back toward the door. He’s gonna take her. She twists in his grasp, fighting to get away. Her eyes sweep the room, pleading with us to help her. I take a deep breath and surge forward, enough is enough.
Leave her alone! I manage to squeeze myself a few feet forward, still too far to actually help.
He stops and turns back around at the noise, “What are you screaming for?”
He grabs his flashlight and turns it to where I am, fighting my way to the front. He raises an eyebrow in silent question as I continue to push past everyone, scanning their scared faces, what’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you helping her? He takes a few steps forward, and doesn’t even bother smirking as everyone in front of his feet moves away.
He squints into the darkness, eyes finally locking with mine, “You want to come to?”
I finally burst through to the front, and pointedly look to the kid he’s still holding. He follows my gaze to her before turning back to me and letting out a belly laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he lets the child fall from his hand, tucking his flashlight back into his pocket.
She lands on the floor with a deafening smack. I turn my eyes over to her, some others rush forward to help her up. I deflate a bit in relief as I see her breath. The relief in her eyes is all the thanks I need. I take another few steps forward, puffing out my chest as I stare him down.
He looks at me, head cocked to one side before shrugging, “Don’t matter to me.”
He kneels down, snatching my foot before dragging me upwards, body scraping against the hard gravel as I go before the cool air rushes over the fresh scratches. I look back over the room, grateful I was able to save everyone else. I can see the relief and fear that’s on their faces. They’re conflicted.
I’m walked through the door, and am forced to squint as harsh light floods my eyes. This room is so much brighter then where we’re kept, it’s hard to believe that they’re part of the same building. It’s so loud in here; my eyes don’t know where to look first. I see some of my friends are hanging upside down by their feet, just hanging there motionless. Why aren’t they fighting? My eyes follow the conveyer belt as they’re pulled underwater. I watch as water splashes up the sides of the tank before they remerge out the other side. I could see some of them twitching against the shackles around their feet, and something felt… wrong. I couldn’t place it, but they didn’t look well. More sickly then before, like they didn’t have any fight left. Their bodies weren’t moving, but I could see their eyes, they were screaming for help.
I fought, hoping maybe I’d get dropped, but he just tightened his grip around my leg. I felt my heart break as I continued following them with my eyes. My eyes swept a few feet in front of them, to see where they were going and I felt my blood run cold. They were headed right toward a saw blade. Oh my God, no! I turned back to my friends and started fighting harder against the monster holding me, why aren’t you fighting? Get out of there! The buzzing from the saw filled the air, and I watched, helpless as they were pulled through it, blood gushing from their necks. I couldn’t help but puke at the sight, the smell of fresh blood and feces filled the air.
He readjusted his grip and laughed again, “Aaawww, what’s a’ matter? You don’t like this ride, anymore?”
He lifted me over his head and I felt cold metal click around my legs, he was strapping me in! No! Please! I haven’t done anything! I squirmed and maneuvered every way I could think of, I heard a deafening snap before I felt a bolt of pain shoot through my leg. I cried out in agony as the bone snapped, effectively stopping me from fighting. I was panting from the effort, tears free-falling down my face.
He brought a finger up to my face, wiping a tear away as his features contorting back into that evil smile that made my blood run cold, “Your turn.”
Pretty gruesome, right? Well, what if I told you this is only scratching the service of what’s really happening. This is a POV short story about what happens to chickens in a slaughterhouse. If you’d like to learn more, I highly recommend you check out this documentary. It covers pretty much every important point there is.
If you’d like some advice on how to make a change, please check out my Veg Life page, that has recipes, tips and more on helping you make a change.
I recently saw The Greatest Showman, I highly recommend seeing this film if you haven’t already, or, if nothing else, Youtube the soundtrack because it’s just amazing!
I couldn’t stop my brain from writing a parody to The Other Side. What else could be better then parody-ing Wolverine asking Troy Bolton to run away and join the circus?
I hope you enjoy, and don’t forget to check out the original track here: The Other Side (Feel free to sing along!)
(Verse 1 – Dean)
Right here, right now
I know our house burned down,
But there’s a way to catch who did this
You hunt with me,
And I can set you free,
Out of the normal and boring you’re trapped in,
We’ll go after Yellow Eyes,
And kill all his demon spies
I know it sounds crazy, but hey, I’m crazy
You can’t be a civ, hell I never did
So leave it all behind and see
(Chorus 1)
There’s really monsters out there Sammy,
I know it’s hard to believe,
But stick with me, I’ll show you how to fight
Hunting will run your life
So you can do like you do, or you can kill like me,
Dig up graves, we’re setting the spirits free
Oh damn!
Was that the FBI?
I think it’s time to hide!
(Verse 2 – Sam)
Okay, Dean, you want to bring me in,
Well I hate to tell you but it just won’t happen
I want to go, to college to be normal,
I won’t enjoy the life and I’ll get trapped in
So leave me the hell alone,
Don’t want to follow you,
You and Dad can go and be crazy,
That life just ain’t for me
Dean, why can’t you see?
That I really don’t want to be
(Chorus 2)
A hunter, Dean I hate the life
Just get out, you know that I’m right
So go away, just trust me, I’ll be fine
Just want to live a normal life
So go and kill like you do, I’m good to stay guilt-free
Monsters are real? What the hell have you done to me?
No Jess!
I see her when I close my eyes,
I didn’t want to be trained in this life
(Bridge)
Is this really how you like to spend your days
Whisky and misery and bodies and graves?
If you come and join me, you’ll be drifting through towns,
Another day, another body, another monster goes down
And you would finally bleed a little,
Kill monsters and live a little,
Just take your guilt and bury it all down,
I know you can feel the guilt, your heart’s aching
Use it against them, your rage is building,
Now what is it Sam? Let’s start saving,
I don’t want to be alone
I know you miss me, but skipping college will cost me greatly,
So what? I’ll even let you drive my Baby
Fair enough, but Dean it’s still not that safe,
Yes it is, look at all these weapons!
Dean you’re insane! How have you not got caught?
What do you mean? It’s all hidden in the trunk!
Rock salt?
Ghosts
Machettes?
Vamps
Fine!
Don’t you want to save the day?
Gank the monster and get laid
Cause I got what you need
So come with me and take the ride
To the hunting life
So time to do how you do, just follow my lead,
Luci’s out of the cage
Where the hell is Ruby’s knife?
Oh damn! I still don’t like this life
I think we’re gonna die!
Curse this hunting life
Redo the salt line
We’re trapped in hunting life
Now we’re trapped in hunting life!
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… Is that some people look down their nose at them. We’ve all been there. ‘When are you gonna get a real job?’, ‘You’re not a real writer’, etc. Whoever told you fanfiction writers aren’t real writers is full of shit.
I’m sorry, but since when is using someone else’s idea as a base/platform for your own creativity bad/wrong? Are you trying to tell me you never played with Barbie’s or G. I. Joes or Hot Wheels?
‘But those are just toys! It’s different!’ Is it now? How would you feel if your mom/dad/guardian told you to ‘go play’ but took all your toys away? Or, when you were bad and they did take them – how sad did that make you? What did you end up doing without them? Sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and/or crying/bargaining saying you’d ‘do anything’ to get them back?
And now let me ask you: do you still have those toys you once thought were so precious? Do you still play with them when you get home from work? No, because you outgrew them, right? You don’t need them anymore.
Same thing with writing fanfiction. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying people always out grow it – you can still write it for fun while you work on your own stories – but sometimes, people do. And that’s perfectly fine!
Shooting a writer down because they write fanfiction is not cool or helpful. You know what you do each time you say that to someone? You chip away at their dreams. Yes, you do. Especially when they’re 12-14 year olds. ‘Oh, it’s not perfect grammar, there’s spelling mistakes, blah, blah, blah’, of course there is! Newsflash: they’re kids. They’re learning. They’re teaching themselves basics with characters they know. They’re taking the familiar and making it their own. Making it less daunting.
Look at the famous writers you (maybe) were taught or at least read in school: Robert Munch, Barbara Park (Junie B. Jones), Dav Pilky (Captain Underpants), Stephen King hell, even Dr. Suess – notice what all these big authors have in common?
They all have a lot of books. Some of them even had whole dedicated sections in the library. Any child who is aspiring to become a writer is guarantee thinking ‘I could never do that.’ When you are just learning what a noun is, whether or not the road to hell is really paved with adverbs, the different parts of a sentence – of course you look at that giant library as Mount Everest!
It also doesn’t help that ‘writer’ is never addressed as something you can grow up to be. (But that’s a whole other article) Kids are literally stunted in pursuing a writing career at the same time they’re just learning what writing even is.
Is it really a wonder why some dip their toes into the profession using characters that are already established/developed/loved?
Fanfiction should not be scoffed at – think of it more like learning to ride a bike. A lot of writer’s use fanfiction when they start out, just like a kid will use training wheels when first learning – and as time goes on, and they get the hang of things, they may start to steer away from fanfic, and head deeper into their own stuff. (Or, write their own stuff and continue to write fanfic on the side)
Would you sneer at a child who was using training wheels? Tell them that they’re ‘not actually riding a bike‘? No? Then for the love of God, hold your tongue when talking to a fanfic writer! It’s not helpful, and just makes you look like an ass.
There are also some amazing works and writers that wouldn’t exist if they didn’t start out in/write fanfiction. So don’t you dare tell me fanfiction is somehow ‘polluting’ the writing genre.
Here’s just a few examples of famous works that are fanfiction:
The Lion King – Retelling of Hamlet
Romeo and Juliet – yep, even Shakespeare himself wrote fanfiction. He based it off of an Arthur Brooke poem, The Tragic History of Romeo and Juliet
Dante’s Inferno – Bible fic
The Three Musketeers – based on another book, Mémoires de Monsieur d’Artagnan
Lord of the Flies – some may argue this is more a parody than fic, but either way, it was based on The Coral Island
These are just 5 examples of famous works out of what I’m sure is hundreds (if not thousands), but look at how beloved the above works are. Not all fanfics are bad (like, say… Fifty Shades of Grey [which is a Twilight fanfic, FYI]) and they’re not all gonna be gold, either.
But regardless of how great or not great their stories are, you should give writer kids the same encouragement you would if they wanted to become a doctor, or some other ‘normal’ job.
Do you really want to be responsible for telling the next Shakespeare they shouldn’t write?
Title based on the line from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Finished: 17.10.23
Words: 2,271
NFF, 2017’s Halloween Fic
“Damn it!”
She kicked the car out of frustration and sighed, running her hands through her hair, of all the days, you decide to crap out on me now? She pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up, searching for a signal.
“Great, that’s just great,” she pocketed the device before looking up and down the stretch of road she was on.
There was nothing but trees on either side, and she couldn’t see anything past the giant hill up ahead. She began walking up the road, the same way she was driving and pulled her jacket tighter against her chest, this is literally how every horror movie starts.
After a few minutes of walking, she saw a truck appear over the edge of the hill. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop… the truck slowed as it approached her, and the driver’s window rolled down, of course.
“Excuse me, Miss? Need a lift?”
Damn, he’s cute,and that accent… she gave the stranger a once over, No! Focus, girl, focus. On the one hand, he might actually want to help, but on the other, her eyes darted to the bed of the truck, wishing she was two inches taller, he could be a serial killer or something…
“Ma’am?” He leaned out the window a bit, eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his voice, making her dip her head so he missed her blush.
Fuck it.
She brought her gaze back to his face and smiled, “Sorry.”
He’s too cute to be a serial killer.
“Do you happen to know where the closest mechanic shop is?” she pointed back over her shoulder, “My car broke down.”
He followed her finger before turning back, “Looks like it’s your lucky day,” he started his truck and drove the few feet forward, stopping again beside her car.
“Hey!” She jogged after him, what the hell is he doing?
She watched as he jumped out of his truck, before striding over to her car, lifting the hood.
“What, uh, what are you doing?” She kept a small distance between them, just in case.
He shut the hood and smiled at her, “I’m the only mechanic in town,” he began hooking her car up to the back of his truck.
“…Really?”
“Yep, I was just on my way out to get a few parts,” he went to the passenger side of his truck, wrenching the door open before looking to her, “How lucky is that?”
**Contains: Mentions/depictions of abuse, story is written in first person**
NFF
Huddled in a back corner, I am nervously looking around the room, trying to see if there’s any possible way for him to get me other than the door that I’ve had my eyes glued to since I came in. It looks okay, so I pull up my knees and rest my head on them. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly; it comes out shaky. How did I get here? I’m tired and hurt and… and finally broken.
I start crying as I think about all the love and hope that I once carried for him.
Thinking that he would actually change.
How naïve I had been to think that he would keep his promises, and try to get help. I guess I didn’t know him that well after all.
People use to tell me that there was a God, and I believed them… until the day – that one, stupid day – I really got to know him. That’s when I started saying otherwise. If only they could see the twisted and demented things that happen after the 3:15 bell goes off. If there was a God, why would he make me go through this? Look at how messed up and twisted I’ve become, because ‘God’ decided to do this to me? I don’t think so! What kind of, of monster purposely makes a person walk down a path of torture and humiliation? I choose to believe that there is no God because if there was, he is the exact same disturbed thing that I’ve come to hate.
My head shoots up as I hear him pound on the door, my heart rate instantly quickening. I knew I should’ve kept running. I slowly get up, not letting my eyes off of the door. I never thought he’d find me… not here.
“Darling,” his too-sweet voice churns my stomach, “You know you can’t hide from me.”
I back myself up as my eyes sweep the room again, hoping to find something I can use as a weapon. The rooms’ still as empty as when I ran in, of course. I don’t know why I expected any different. I feel my back hit the back wall and know I’m totally screwed.
I hear the door break open with a deafening crash see him enter. I drop back to the floor in a futile attempt to hide. I hold my breath and hope he doesn’t see me in the corner. He stands just inside the doorway, eyes scanning the room as he sniffs the air. Tracking me. He spots me and smirks, taking his time to close the gap between us.
I put my head down in my arms, curled up in a ball, tensing my body for the impending strike. I wait for the acid like sting of him on me.
It doesn’t come.
I lift my head and see him standing right over me, just watching with that stupid smirk on his face. What the hell? The room is so quiet I am sure that he can hear how hard my heart is pounding.
“What?”
I involuntarily flitch as his spit lands on my cheek, but I don’t break the gaze. His face twitches with something I’ve never seen before he pulls me up and I feel tears begin to well up. No, please… not now. I get the familiar daunting chill rushing through my body. I turn away from him, silently hoping I can hold the tears back long enough to avoid another possible beating. I hold my breathe and find part of me hoping I don’t further upset him.
Then, I feel it – one, single tear.
It’s as if it happens in slow motion. I feel the warmth of it begin to trace its way down from my eye to my cheek. I see it linger on the tip of my chin and find myself praying that it just stays there. It departs from my chin and slowly falls towards the hardwood floor. It makes a barely audible sploosh and suddenly my head is jerked to face him again.
“Why won’t you face me?”
His grip on my chin ensures I can’t look anywhere but his eyes. I swear I can practically see the hell fire coming out of the black hole he calls his soul.
He bellow’s out in frustration and throws me to the ground. My head bashes against the wall, making me instantly dizzy. I can feel blood begin flowing down my face and I suppress a jaded laugh… at least I’m not choking on his cologne anymore. There used to be a time when I found the smell of him comforting… That was a long time ago. I’d rather get hit with bricks than be that close to him again.
I somehow manage to get up on all fours. I go to get up but am stopped by the familiar pressing of his boot on my practically broken back. He stomps down, squishing me against the floor. I gasp for breath and try to get up, to get at least some air back into my lungs.
“You want air?”
He releases the pressure ever so slightly and for a second I think he’s actually being nice. I go to stand up again but am only greeted by his evil cackle and a face full of concrete. I hear a sickening crack as I feel my head bounce up off the ground. Stars dance across my vision before I finally pass out.
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“Hey, where are you?” You hear one of the boys yell from the front door.
“I’m on the couch!” You yell back, punctuating it with a cough.
You hear some shuffling around and the scrape of him taking his boots off before you see a head poke in the doorway. Well, more like a mop of hair popped itself into the doorway.
Guess that means I know whose back. You thought, coughing again as you chuckled.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Sam asked, stepping into the room to come sit beside you on the couch.
“I’m really good, actually.” You lied, with fake enthusiasm.
He nodded and hugged you, almost cutting your limited air supply off.
“You don’t have to be strong, for us. I know it must be a bitch.” Sam said, holding you out by the shoulders, studying your face.
“No, really, I’m feeling better.” You stated, trying to look at him with your ‘I’m not lying’ face.
“How could you call her a bitch?” Dean exclaimed, walking into the room, looking at his brother with a smirk.
“I didn’t!” Sam exclaimed, eyes going wide under his hair.
“I believe that Dean is what is commonly referred to as ‘teasing’ you, Sam.” Cas stated, popping into the room right behind Dean.
“Damn it Cas!” Dean swore, jumping slightly.
“I apologize Dean, it’s hard for me to gage how close to others I will be when popping into a room that is so…small.” Cas explained, looking around the tiny space, as if in wonder.
Dean glared at the angel before walking over to sit on the arm of the couch that your head wasn’t on. Sam was looking at Cas like he still hadn’t gotten used to the angel randomly popping in on them (which made you laugh because it had only been seven years). You moved to push yourself up on the couch, so you weren’t taking up all the space, when Sam put his hand on your chest, pushing you back down slightly.
“You shouldn’t try to move yet, you’re still in a lot of pain.” He explained, gently taking his hand off you when he’d noticed Dean’s eyebrow’s shoot up.
“No I’m not.” You protested, but allowed yourself to be pushed back down anyway.
“Cas, can’t you just angel mojo it away or something?” Dean asked, clearly not liking that you were injured for so long.
“Dean, we’ve already been over this, I can’t heal this type of wound. If I were to intervene it would possibly make it worse.” Cas explained, taking a couple steps closer to you.
“Wait, when did you go over this? And why haven’t I heard about it?” You asked, looking between the boys around you.
Sam looked down in guilt, Dean looked away, starring at the off T.V like it was the most interesting thing on the planet, and Cas just tilted his head in confusion, being the only one who didn’t take his eyes off you.
“You didn’t explain the complications?” He questioned, eyes flicking up to Dean.
“No, they didn’t. I was told you were too busy with the war and being hunted to have time to pop by.” You informed the angel through gritted teeth, sitting up against the arm of the chair, none of the boys noticing.
“Dean, why would you keep something as important as that from someone?” Cas asked, still seriously confused.
“Yeah Dean, why would you keep that from me?” You questioned, glaring at the hunter.
“It’s not just my fault – Sam could’ve said something about it too!” Dean defended, looking up to the angel with daggers.
“Hey!” Sam cried, looking up to his brother in shock.
“Don’t give me that, you know you could’ve and you didn’t, so I shouldn’t be getting all the blame for this.” Dean stated, standing up.
“At least I only found out this morning!” Sam yelled back, also standing.
“Were you going to tell me Sam?” You asked, curling yourself slightly closer to the back of the couch – sometimes you forgot how giant those boys were until they got angry.
“You did not! I saw you talking to Cas a week ago!” Dean accused, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sam’s face suddenly drained and he took a step away from his brother. He momentarily turned to flick his eyes over to the aforementioned angel before looking back at his brother and swallowing thickly.
“Y-you saw us talking or you heard us talking?” Sam stuttered, voice losing it’s menacing tone, making him sound like a frightened kid.
“What’s the difference?” Dean asked confused, his anger disappearing as well.
“Uh – nothing.” Sam replied quickly, eyes shifting down to look at the floor.
“Sam?” Dean questioned, eyes narrowing.
Sam turned his back to his brother, which you assumed meant he was heading toward the door to leave the room, when the angel popped up in front of him. Sam jumped back slightly surprised at the sudden occupied space in front of him.
“Sam, I think it’s time to tell them.” Cas informed, his gravely voice making it almost unnecessary for him to attempt to whisper.
You turned yourself around slightly, resting your arms on the back of the couch so you could continue to watch the action before you, regardless of the sharp pull from your injury.
One thing that continued to surprise you was that even though you’d been with the trio for a fair amount of time, mostly everything they did seemed like it was being done in a movie-esque way, as if begging for someone to swoop in and capture it on film.
“Yeah Sam, I think it’s time you tell me.” Dean piped up, his angry stare back now that he knew his brother had been keeping something from him.
Sam’s head went down and even though you couldn’t see, you just knew he’d closed his eyes. Cas dipped his head, as if wanting to get the hunter to look at him before placing a hand on his shoulder and his face softened immensely, conveying the most emotion you’d ever seen from the angel. Sam lifted his head up to meet the angel’s eyes and they seemed to be having a conversation in their heads before the hunter nodded reluctantly and turned back to face you and his brother.
Cas dropped his hand off Sam’s shoulder but let it dangle dangerously close to his hand, their fingers just barely brushing against each other.
“Sam, what have you been keeping from me?” Dean demanded, clearly getting sick of the wait.
“It’s really not that big of a-”
“Just tell me damn it!” Dean yelled, stomping closer to his brother, looking ready to punch him.
Suddenly, Cas was between the two brothers, oddly enough protecting Sam from the one person who was sworn to protect him. You looked between the boys, not sure if you should try and intervene or not, although considering that was how you got injured in the first place, you were leaning more toward not bothering to step in. You gasped in pain and doubled over slightly, clutching at your side as you felt new, cool waves of liquid start to seep out of it.
“Dean,-” Sam was cut off by your gasp of pain.
You doubled over slightly, clutching at your side as you felt new, cool waves of liquid start to seep out of it, gritting your teeth, still trying to not show them how injured you actually were.
“Damn it!” Dean swore, running out of the room, hopefully to grab the first aid kit.
“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.” Sam muttered, suddenly taking up the space in front of you, one of his giant hands on your shoulders.
All you could do was nod back in response, and try to keep the tears from falling down your face. Cas was suddenly beside Sam, his one hand on your other shoulder, the only way he’d figured out how to comfort a person. You pressed your hands harder into your side, and gave the boys a weak smile.
Dean strode back into the room, holding a few towels and the first aid kit. He glared at his brother, getting Sam to move, however slightly.
“Sammy, I’m gonna need more room than that if I’m gonna patch it up.” Dean ground out, obviously impatient.
“Why don’t I stitch it back up?” Sam offered, holding his hands out to receive the items.
“Damn it Sam! We don’t have time for this!” Dean exclaimed, throwing the items down before stomping back out of the room.
“I will go make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret.” Cas stated before disappearing, leaving you alone with the youngest.
“I’m gonna need to move your hands away so I can get a good look at it, okay?” Sam asked, looking at you cautiously.
“Of course.” You replied, taking your hands away slowly, trying to hide your wince.
You absolutely hated how he was still the only one walking on eggshells around you, it wasn’t even his fault and yet he felt guilty. If any of them should be feeling guilty, it should’ve been the eldest, not the one who’d patched it up in the first place.
He pulled your shirt up slowly, watching your face for any signs of additional pain, which you had to admit was starting to piss you off – he should know by now that you weren’t a freakin’ china doll! You could take a hit – from Dean no less and not be reduced to a pile of tears, they needed more faith in you than they did.
“Sam, I’m fine. Just stitch it up so Dean can come back.” You stated, with a small smile.
“You want Dean to come back? Last I checked you liked it better when he wasn’t around.” Sam stated, raising an eyebrow as he set to work, wiping away the blood with one of the towels.
“Well, I’d rather have him in here than trashing some place else.” You reasoned, watching his hands to avoid looking at his face.
You knew that instead of what you’d actually said, he’d heard, ‘I’d rather have him take it out on me then something that doesn’t deserve it.’ Which bugged the hell out of you – you had gotten way to close to these boys.
“You know Cas and I wouldn’t let that happen.” He replied, eyes flicking up to your face.
“Speaking of you and Cas, were you actually going to tell him?” You asked, hoping to change the subject.
Sam let out a small laugh at that as he put the towel down and shook his head, picking up the needle.
“I was thinking about it, but Cas doesn’t want to tell him, he knew how pissed he’d be. So no, we’re not gonna tell him yet.” Sam answered, beginning to stitch your wound up.
“Of course he’s gonna be pissed but the longer you wait to tell him, the more pissed he’ll be. I’d say to get it over with and bear the enraged monster now.” You stated, with a small smile.
“I’m an enraged monster now, am I?” Dean asked, walking back into the room.
You looked up to him, still smiling as you pretended to give him a once over, before nodding, earning you a pillow to the head.
“Hey! I’m not done stitching yet!” Sam cried with a laugh, throwing the pillow back to his brother.
“Well hurry it up, Bitch. We got stuff to do.” Dean replied, his smirk returning.
Sam just shook his head and went back to stitching you up. You looked at his face, trying to gauge if he would reply but it became evident he wouldn’t.
“Jerk.”
Sam’s head shot up and Dean’s eyes widened as they both looked at you, jaws agape.
“What? Sam wasn’t going to say because he was busy, so I figured I’d fill in.” You shrugged, smiling at their matching expressions.
The brother’s looked to each other, expressions staying the same before looking back to you again. You started laughing at their faces – for men who claimed to only deliver bad news, they sure knew how to make someone laugh.
“What kind of stuff do we have to do?” Sam asked, slowly pulling your shirt back down and putting the needle away.
“We gotta talk about how long you’ve been dating a certain angel.” Dean deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sam looked up to his brother again, trying to see if he was serious or not.
“I haven’t been dating an angel Dean. Who told you that?” Sam asked, standing up and moving away to throw the bloody towels away.
“Doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is I know.” Dean stated.
“What does Dean know?” Cas asked, almost falling over the arm of couch as he popped in.
“Dean says someone told him I’ve been dating an angel.” Sam explained, throwing the towels away before walking back to sit on the coffee table.
“Did he say who?” Cas asked again, looking to the mentioned Winchester.
“Doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is I know.” Dean repeated, looking to the angel.
“Should this not wait until one of us isn’t seriously injured?” Cas suggested, taking a few steps so he was standing in front of you.
“I’m fine.” You replied automatically.
Cas gave you an ‘oh please’ look that would’ve been comical if not for the growing tension in the room.
“Cas is right, we can sort this out after we take of this.” Sam nodded, putting a hand on your knee.
Dean looked at the three of you before sighing and visibly deflating, nodding as he gave in.
“Fine, but I’m so kicking your ass after.”
“Deal.”
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