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[personal profile] citrusjava

Lets bring something good into the world. Let's hold hands, if only virtually, and not be alone in this. Let's reaffirm that we care about each other, and we don't stand for bigotry. Let's write (and draw and record and stuff).

Prompts are open for anything - any or no ships, any or no kinks, go for it.

Extra cookies if your prompt negates some bigoted concept, we could give love in places it's particularly lacking right now. We can reaffirm that we all have a place here, that we stand with each other. Women, POC, survivors, immigrants, disabled people, fat people, MOGAI people, poor people, etc - especially anyone that's more than one of those things - deserve some extra love, today and in general.... But prompts don't have to do that - anything comforting is welcome, and different things comfort different people! Fun, fluffy, funny, porny, angry, dark, it's ok!

Breadline by [ profile] toratio, Sam&Dean, money issues
Sam/Dean, body autonomy, lived experience of mi, by anon
It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine) by [ profile] toratio Domestic end of the world!
In the Bones by laughablelament, aer leaving the bunker with John's journal, Mary ends up using it as a roadmap

(ETA: !!!! I am so excited and comforted by you being here and caring and by your generousity! Ahh! I has only been a few hours and already we have fills! Thank you!!!! And that you to the people sharing this - you are awesome!!!!)

How this works:
How to prompt: Leave a comment with a prompt, preferably with some basic information in the subject line (ship/gen/character, kink, genre - whatever works for you). You can leave as many prompts as you like.

How to fill: Comment to any prompt you like with fic, art, podfic, playlists, gifsets - any form of fanwork is welcome. Feel free to fill prompts that were already filled. If you feel like leaving anon fills, go for it! If you feel like leaving cute little 'created in ten minutes' fills for fun - those are welcome too!

1) Be kind.
2) No spoilers for unaired episodes without a cut/link, please.
3) Use content warnings generously, please. It only takes a moment, and can make the difference between brightening someone's day and making it horrible. We've got enough horrible.
4) Anything promoting bigotry should not be included. If you're not sure, you're welcome to ask me, we can try to figure it out together. If something bothers you - same thing. Sometimes things can be bigoted without bad intent, we'll try to navigate this with compassion if it happens here now. Most things are ok if you clearly warn for them.

Tell the world!

Reblog on Tumblr

prompt : sam winchester /Eileen leahy

Date: 2016-11-10 04:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Sam wants to learn more about signing he really had a spark with her and stands up for her when people don't understand
how smart she is and that even though she if different they can love each other equally

Sam, Dean, money issues

Date: 2016-11-10 04:39 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
So, I don't have a lot of money, and one of my favorite things about pre-bunker fic was the small experiences of that, like what it really is like to live off the same sort of canned food for every meal for a week, or the small constant stress to not having where to go - I'm not necessarily asking for these experiences, but just for Winchesters with the mundane, specific experiences of not having money.

feel free to do this gen/any pairing/any or no kinks

FILLED: Breadline Pt 1/2

Date: 2016-11-10 05:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Uh, so I'm not sure if this is what you wanted, exactly, but I'm doing a PhD on soup kitchens (which means this totally counts as studying) so it's what came to my head.

Set during season 7, so some Hell-trauma stuff comes up. Both adult and Weechesters.

He’d been embarrassed by it, as a kid. He’d hidden behind his brother – he’d been able to, then, had been so much smaller – and hoped that nobody from their latest school saw him.

And yeah, maybe that was shallow, maybe he shouldn’t give a shit what they thought – it wasn’t like he was going to be sticking around that long, anyway – but he didn’t want people seeing, didn’t want them to know they were, well, poor.

Of course, in the Winchesters world, it was so much more complicated than that.


“It’s been a while,” Dean says quietly as they line up.

Sam nods, closes his eyes for a moment, thumb going to his scar as he tries not to see the people around him in pieces, bloodied and broken, streaks of red smeared up the wall.

It isn’t exactly cheery when he opens his eyes again, but it’s a lot better.

Dean puts a hand on his arm, a silent gesture of comfort.

It’s enough.


There had been other kids at the kitchens – most of them scruffy, dirty faces and tangled hair.

He hadn’t looked much better – hand-me-downs and thrift shop clothes. Their money went on weapons, or John’s drinking habit.

For all the talk about the poor, ninety-nine per cent of the parents lining up were probably better than John Winchester. At least they had an excuse.

Their father could have settled down, gotten a job. The Winchesters could be middle class, could live in a house, they did live in a house, once upon a time, although he didn’t remember that.


The woman behind the counter is probably in her sixties, at least, embracing her salt-and-pepper hair and smiling at them.

They probably look awful. They’ve barely slept since Bobby’s death, and they’re both in dire need of a shave. Their credit cards are at breaking point – hence why they’re here – and the Leviathans are on their asses.

“I’m Susan,” she says, and there’s no mock compassion in her voice, she’s just a person serving them, and Sam relaxes a little, smiles back at her.

The food is basic – chicken loaf and vegetables – but it’s hot and smells good, and Sam thanks Susan sincerely as she loads their plates.

There’s gravy and drinks, coffee and juice and condiment packets. The man at the drinks station tells Sam that the spinach comes from their community garden.


They were serving actual soup, beef and vegetable, with bread, the middle-aged woman ladling it out going all dewy-eyed at the two poor little skinny boys lining up.

“You two look like you could use a good feed,” she said, and Sam flushed with shame because, yeah, they could – Dad had been gone for almost a month, and their meagre stash of money could only be stretched so far.

“Thanks ma’am,” Dean gave her that winning grin of his, and Sam slunk behind him to a seat.
Edited Date: 2016-11-10 05:57 am (UTC)

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FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

Date: 2016-11-10 05:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

“I don’t feel good about this,” Sam says softly. The food is good, better than he’d thought it would be. It actually beats most of the crap they eat at diners.

“Yeah, well, nobody likes coming to soup kitchens,” Dean replies, “we ain’t here to have fun.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, I mean – these people are hungry, Dean. They have nothing. I mean, if we really need food that bad…”

“We what?” Dean asks. “Steal food? Money? Credit card fraud? That’s how most of the people here get by, too. We deserve it just as much as they do.”



“This sucks,” Sam muttered.

“Free food, dude,” Dean replied, “don’t go looking at gift horses, or whatever they say.”

“Dad’s supposed to be taking care of us. That’s his job.”

Dean slipped an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “I’m here, Sammy. I’ll take care of you.”

The bread was going stale, but Sam was starved, and when Dean handed half his share over without a word, Sam couldn’t quite make his mouth work to say thanks.


There’s a small group of people – men and women, probably only Sam’s age – in one corner, playing cards and laughing.

“How much money do you think they have?” Dean asks, eyes glittering.

Sam groans. “Dude, you’re not going to hustle homeless people!”

“I know, I know.” Dean grins at him. “I’m kidding, dude.”

They polish off their meals, Dean practically licking the plate.

“Man, that was awesome.”

Sam watches the line. It never seems to get any shorter.

“We shouldn’t be here.”

Dean wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Sammy, you saved this world. All these people? They wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. If anyone deserves free goddamn food, it’s you.”


“Excuse me?”

A young woman, college kid maybe, stopped them on their way out, a plastic bag in her hand.

Sam hid behind his brother instinctively. Was she a monster? Had they been made?

The woman handed Dean the bag.

“It’s not much,” she said quietly, “just some essentials. Bread, some rice – microwave rice – some cookies and things.”

Dean actually looked touched, and Sam clung to his brother’s arm, looking at this girl, who’d probably never missed a meal in her life.

“Thank you.” It was Sam who spoke up, smiling a little.

“God bless,” she replied.

Sam followed his big brother out the door, and wondered if maybe Dad was right. They hunted so that people like her could be safe.



Dean is unsuccessfully trying to chat up one of the volunteers – Sam’s pretty sure they have rules about fraternising with clients, but his brother’s nothing if not determined – and Sam takes his second cup of coffee, wonders for a moment if he’s about to be told off.

The young woman absolutely isn’t missing half her face, and she definitely isn’t after Sam presses on his hand scar. He looks guiltily down at his cup.

“Uh, sorry, I…”

“It’s okay,” she tells him brightly. She’s pretty, blonde, and she smiles, a mouth full of well-kept and daily-brushed teeth. “I just wanted to give you and your friend this.”

“My brother,” Sam says absently, taking the box from her.

“If there’s something you can’t use or don’t eat, let me know, I can give it to someone else…”

Sam surveys the contents – rice, pasta, Oreos (and Dean’s going to cream himself over those), some fresh vegetables (probably from the community garden), a few canned things.

They’ve eaten a hell of a lot worse.

“This is amazing,” he says sincerely, “thanks.”

She smiles. “God bless.”

God hasn’t put in an appearance, not even for the fucking apocalypse, and Cas…

“God bless you too,” he says.

Maybe God is gone, and certainly Cas is, but the world’s still here, and that’s not going to change, not if him and his brother have any say in it.

Sam hands the box to his brother, isn’t surprised when he claims the Oreos for himself, and they head out to their shitty little stolen car, and Sam swears that Roman and those big-mouth bastards are going straight back to Purgatory.

Edited Date: 2016-11-10 06:01 am (UTC)

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Sam/Dean, body autonomy, lived experience of mi

Date: 2016-11-10 05:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Dean and Sam both have a lot of experiences of being physically used, breached, possessed etc - of having their bodies and each other's bodies become not theirs. They also have (had?) a lot of intimacy and trust with each other. Tell me about how this influences their daily lives - not the dramatic breakdowns necessarily, but the little things they know to be careful about or need to do to cope, the things they think about, feel about or do differently, etc.
From: (Anonymous)
Sam's got his fingers stuck in his hair. It's a small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, the same they usually come. A thick breath, a swallow, a shudder and he's closing his eyes, untangling his fingers to lean his hands onto his thighs. He bends over, breathes in the warm mist with water raining over his body, and once the ground's stable again, he pulls up.

Lost in thought, that's all. Not possessed. Not this time. Lost in thought, tired. Not possessed.

Everything is alright.


Something stirs in Dean. He's breathing quickly, all of a sudden; it's that - that sound of fire crackling, and a smell like metal. He's up, fingers bending around the safe curve of his weapon, but he's aiming it at nothing and lowering it soon enough.

It's Sam showering. That's all.

Cursing under his breath, he places the gun back under his pillow. Well, he's up; better get the coffee dripping before the grumpy giant gets out the bathroom.

They barely smile in the mornings. It's one grunt to another's grunt, a tired glare when either one cracks an equally tired joke, but when they've both had a sandwich or two, and when they're finishing the first cup of coffee, communication starts flowing more easily. That's Dean's safe place - his brother by his side, smelling of some fruity two-in-one, growling at him and giving him those long, worn-out looks of distress in return for his big, toothy fake smiles. That's where home is, for both of them.


Rain pitter-patters over the roof of the car like a stampede of a thousand mice. Sam watches through the soaked window as Dean rushes across the parking lot with his jacket thrown over his head and then dives in through the driver's door with a warm bag of diner food in one hand. He lands them on Sam and he's laughing as he settles back behind the wheel, all proud of himself, and Sam's proud of him, too. They're on their way to Nevada, and it's a long damn road - but they're there together, and Sam guesses that's the one thing that really matters. He digs his fingers into the bag until he can feel the top of the box containing his salad. Unlike Dean's burger, still wrapped inside its papers, his meal is cold and radiates with nutrition.



"It's a miracle you've made it to thirty-six with that diet."

Dean grins.
"Gimme my meal," he purrs and reaches one free hand towards the bag.

Sam lets him take it.


In the night, the motel room closes in. Dean swallows thickly, trying to shake off the fear from his bones, but it creeps in like an unwanted lover, all cold with an ironclad chokehold. He throws a look towards Sam, and a sensation like warm water splashing over him washes off the worst of the panic: Sam's staring at the ceiling, awake. The smallest shift in Dean alerts him, and their gazes meet. Sam smiles at him - he's sleepy, too, but it's not the first time they share their insomnia.

"You, um, you wanna talk...?" Sam asks him, gently prodding the ache inside Dean's chest.

He shakes his head and swallows. He doesn't know how to talk. However, just being asked to - the fact that Sam's there to ask, the fact that he sees Dean, sees the pain - it's good. They're good.

"'s gonna be alright," Dean mumbles at him and closes his eyes, "Just go to sleep, Sammy."

Sometimes, words do heal wounds.

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Misha/Darius, bicycle touring?

Date: 2016-11-10 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Those two, have you seeing those two talk about their road trip together? Wrestling like Winchesters, getting a gun pointed at them and getting out of it by pretending to be environmentalists? Receiving a car as a gift for helping to move mice safely, breaking down and having Misha's mother have to save them? And all their jokes and silly ways of giving the finger to 'the man', they're awesome!

I just want fic about them, but for prompt's sake -
they pine for each other through one of their adventures (this or a different one) we as a fandom know what wrestling with life partners really means,
all those nights in the woods under the stars, a those silly barely-escapes and private jokes....
Edited Date: 2016-11-10 06:24 am (UTC)

gen or Sam/Dean, fluff

Date: 2016-11-10 06:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I want a brotherly bonding moment, a nice little domestic scene. Can be in the Bunker, can be pre-Bunker, can be as kids or adults, just something nice with them hanging out and chatting. Happy, chillin' boys.

misha/ jared puppies and kittens

Date: 2016-11-10 07:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
The pet store is close to set they just started dating they don't know if they should get a puppy or kittens

Date: 2016-11-10 08:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Domestic wincest. It can be a lull in between hunts, it can be permanent-retired-from-hunting, it can be domestic while the world outside is a wasteland (actually, I might be tempted to fill this one myself? Ha), it can be snything.

Just domestic and established and cute between the two of them.

FILLED (sort of - sorry, no Wincest!) 1/2

Date: 2016-11-10 11:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'm really sorry, I read this as 'domestic fluff' and missed the Wincest bit, so, uh, it's kind of not quite what you wanted. Sorry!

It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)

They have a garden, with vegetables and flowers and a few small trees. Dean installed a few skylights in one of the rooms, so they don’t have to put the garden outside. Something so obvious could draw the wrong attention.

Assuming anyone is still out there.

“Just like the Walking Dead,” Dean says.

The Walking Dead hasn’t been on TV for years. Nothing has.

The Bunker is huge, and old enough that much of it is manual. They will run out of fuel for the generator, eventually, but they have backups – when things started to go bad, Sam had suggested they get off-the-grid solar – and they have a line to underground water.

They’re lucky, all things considered.

Sam likes to joke that Hell is other people, but the six of them live a surprisingly quiet life.

There’s no blame, not any more – Lucifer is dead, and so is the most of the world, now, thanks to him, but at least he can’t do any more damage. Heaven and Hell are sealed up for good, and the remaining people and monsters fight it out, amongst themselves and with each other.

It’s hard to justify saving the world, when there is really nothing left to save.

So they exist, survive, listen out for any signs of life. Sam and Dean hit the road now and then, take the Impala down familiar highways, although most of them look nothing like they used to. They set people up in groups, help them, teach them how to survive.

Nobody is brought back to the Bunker. The Winchesters don’t trust enough for that.

Of course, Crowley, locked out of his own kingdom and half-human, lives with them, but they figure it’s better the devil you know. Sam asks, now and then, if Crowley wants to be completely human, but he never changes his mind. Sam is still sure he will, some day.

Cas, graceless and human, has taken to the simple life, although he has never quite taken to Crowley, and the two fight endlessly. Mary plays mediator, Rowena at her side, two unconventional mothers who have never quite lost their instincts. They have grown close.

Everyone has, in ways none of them really expected.


It’s a quiet day in the Bunker.

Dean makes meals from scratch, spends hours in the kitchen, humming and whistling, happier than he’s ever been. The world has fallen apart, so it’s no longer his responsibility, and he’s got his family and his friends (and Crowley) under the one roof. He’s the head of the household, the den mother, and he loves it, more than he could ever imagine he would.

Sam is reading, tucked in a corner of the library, determined to learn everything about everything before his inevitable passing. He disappears into his books for hours at a time, ignoring everyone and everything around him. Only Dean can coax him out of that place, big brother who knows him so well.

Rowena reads with him sometimes, or flicks through files and checks out the Men of Letters’ various objects. She checks Sam too sometimes, the flick of too-long hair, the way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating, those legs that seem to go on forever.

It took her a couple of months to coax him into her bed, and some days she doesn’t want to let him leave.

Cas, Crowley and Mary play cards. Crowley is a cheat, but Cas and Mary gang up on him, partners-in-crime and just partners, and yeah, the Winchesters needed some time to adjust to that, but Mary is quick to point out how little she likes the alternatives, and how dammit, she’s only human.

They sometimes throw around ideas for repopulating the world.

The brothers keep it between themselves that they’re happy for it to die.



Date: 2016-11-10 11:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
There’s a scratching at the front door. Sam and Cas are playing chess nearby, both deep in thought, carefully plotting their next moves. Sam grabs his Taurus – he doesn’t feel right if he isn’t carrying a weapon, even now – and he and Cas move to the door slowly.

There’s a low whine, and Sam eases the door open, eyebrows raising at the muddy, skinny creature that sits and stares at them, pink tongue hanging out one side of its mouth.

Dean gives the usual tests – it’s not a skinwalker or a familiar. It’s just a skinny, dirty chocolate lab, whining pathetically at their feet, and Sam scratches it behind the ears. They turn matching eyes to Dean.

“We’ll have to hunt more often,” Dean says, thoroughly annoyed, “you can’t feed it on vegetables.”

“I’ll take him out,” Sam says, “he can hunt with me.”

Dean rolls his eyes but gives in.

They have meat in storage – raccoon, some fox. They get deer when they’re really lucky, but they haven’t for a while. Sam feeds then bathes the mutt, christens it Baskerville – Dean groans, suggests Cujo (“he was a Saint Bernard, Dean.”) – but it gets shortened to Bass.

Dean gets a kick out of Cas walking the dog, so he can yell “Cas and Bass!” He decides it’s a good name for a restaurant meal, something with fish.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him, but he smiles.

He smiles a lot more now, with Bass following him around. He doesn’t hide himself in the library as much, and Dean gets up less than a week later to find Sam playing tug-of-war with an old leather belt, the dog growling and shaking its floppy ears.

The world may be falling down around their ears, but they have everything they need, right here.

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Dean/Sam, incest

Date: 2016-11-10 08:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

On the verge of making their relationship sexual/romantic (and maybe after), while both having that attraction and love towards each other, Dean and/or Sam discuss or PROCESS the personal and social meanings and implications of making this shift - within the context of society. Not just the instance of horror at a taboo and getting over it - what it means for their continuous lived experiences and everyday lives and identities...
This is one of my favorite things!
From: [identity profile]
And maybe she discovers and reacts to (the different stories from Dean and Sam about?) everything canon they've been through
also, potentially but definitely not necessarily - she finds out that maybe being hunters is not the the only thing about her sons' lifestyle that is not normative.
From: [identity profile]
There are some delightful MCU fics about Bucky walking around New York, discovering things like mocha lattes, massage chairs, and recent changes in politics, humor, style and social justice.

Mary would probably have her own perspectives about a lot of those.

It would be awesome to fin out about them regardless of MCU - or in a crossover - it's nice to have someone to buy all the types of Twizzlers and try them out with.

Gen, Mary, post 12x03

Date: 2016-11-10 09:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Spoilers for 12x03, obviously!

After leaving the bunker with John's journal, Mary ends up using it as a roadmap. She travels around, visiting the sites of some of the disasters Sam and Dean have been through -- and maybe meeting some of the people they've saved. It's not the same as getting to see her boys grow up, but it still helps.

RE: Gen, Mary, post 12x03

Date: 2016-11-10 12:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
I'm seconding this so hard! I want it as the beginning of a spinoff.........

Fill: "In the Bones" 1/3

Date: 2016-11-12 12:26 am (UTC)
laughablelament: (11x16Boys)
From: [personal profile] laughablelament
G | ~1200 words

Mary runs her fingers over battered leather. Sam said the journal belonged to his grandfather, John’s father, though she’d never seen it before that night. Cried through a box and a half of Kleenex, reading his failures and struggles, lessons she’d learned with her ABC’s. She’d been so naï—

House comes into view again and her what’s-it, her, Uber driver meets her eyes in the rearview, losing patience.

“Just, slow down some, okay?”

“Listen, lady, if you’re stalking these people—”

“I’m not.” She stares out at the yard. Tree trunks, too thick for her memory and concrete steps, that iced up and nearly killed her and Dean both, the winter he was born. Mary silences the soft voice wondering… “I used to live in this house, is all. Just wanted to see what’s changed.”

The driver huffs but she doesn’t slow down much. “So where you been? If I’m not being nosy.”

“Paradise,” Mary blurts and winces.

“Well. What on earth brought you back to Kansas?”

Mary swallows. “Family.”


She’s in her element. Greasy spoon symphony of voices, dishes, sizzles.

“Yeah I knew Bobby Singer. Mean drunk. Pain in the ass sober.”

She’d found coordinates for Sioux Falls, city center, over and over. Picture stuck in the pages gave her Singer Salvage. Thrilled to discover 555-1212 still worked, not surprised it turned up nothing.

“That other fella though, Winchester?” Her waitress hands back the photo. “I dunno. Singer had a lotta shady characters come through that junkyard.”

Elsewhere, newsstand receipt, Martin Wells in what she guessed to be Sam’s writing. They’d bought a paper and a pack of gum, right across the street.

“Can you give me directions?”

“You can Google Map it.”

“Nah.” Whatever that means. “I hate those things.” Mary figures that’s true.


She hesitates on the steps, lifts her hand to knock, balks. Behind the screen the main door opens.

“Well don’t stand out there in the heat, honey, come on in.” Missouri Moseley shepherds her into the parlor, same in every detail as the last time Mary’d been here. “Mary Cambpell.”


“M-hm.” Missouri takes a seat, gestures for Mary to do the same. “Back from the dead and back to huntin. Sure would make your daddy proud.”


“You know why.” Black cat bones rattle out of a velvet bag into a porcelain cup. “Every high-up in Heaven and Hell was moving against your family. Nothing I’da told you woulda mattered, and you’da lost those years raising Dean in peace.” Missouri passes the cup to Mary and covers her hands in red cloth. “Shake.”

Mary shakes.

Edited Date: 2016-11-12 12:27 am (UTC)

RE: Fill: "In the Bones" 2/3

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-11-12 12:29 am (UTC) - Expand

RE: Fill: "In the Bones" 3/3

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-11-12 12:31 am (UTC) - Expand

RE: Fill: "In the Bones" 3/3

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2016-11-12 12:41 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill:

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-11-12 09:15 pm (UTC) - Expand

RE: Fill: "In the Bones" 3/3

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2016-11-14 03:27 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill:

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-11-15 04:55 am (UTC) - Expand

RE: Fill: "In the Bones" 3/3

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2016-12-07 08:07 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill:

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-12-08 04:25 am (UTC) - Expand

AO3 link for "In the Bones"

From: [personal profile] laughablelament - Date: 2016-11-12 12:36 am (UTC) - Expand

A moment of generosity

Date: 2016-11-10 01:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'd like to see Sam and Dean offering or doing something simple for a stranger, and I want them to see how much it means to this person (maybe they fix something that's broken, maybe they offer something they have to someone who needs it more, maybe it's an Outsider POV).

RE: A moment of generosity

Date: 2016-11-10 02:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I don't have a story of my own creation to share, but a fic rec is better than nothing, right? [ profile] geminigrl11 wrote this back in 2007, so maybe lots of folks haven't seen it, but I've never forgotten it. I think it's just what you like: Everyday Heroes (

RE: A moment of generosity

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2016-11-10 04:08 pm (UTC) - Expand

Wincest, rough hands and dirt

Date: 2016-11-10 01:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

When Dean first gets Sam back from Stanford, it turns out Dean is into Sam getting dirty, eating junk, when Sam's hands start to get rough again from the guns, because it makes Sam closer to being back and further away from being the prissy student Dean lost.

Sastiel, Impala sex, slight D/s

Date: 2016-11-10 01:33 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Sam blows Cas in the driver's seat on the Impala. It's forbidden, and the driver's seat is such a sign of power, for Sam, all his life.
Add any kinks, ok to switch roles.

Dean/Sam, view

Date: 2016-11-10 01:51 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I just want Dean to fuck Sam next to some glorious view observation point overlooking 'their home'.

Dean/Sam or Dean%Sam, home, rejection

Date: 2016-11-10 02:00 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

It took Sam ages to start considering the bunker home - long after Dean settled in. Dean experiences it as a personal rejection - even when Dean gives up life on the road so Sam can be with his books, Sam isn't pleased. This time it's not because he doesn't want to be a hunter, it could oly be because of Dean. Dean becomes grumpy, maybe, but he also becomes desperate to keep Sam, touchy and vulnerable. Tries to find alternative reasons or to make sacrifices to get Sam to stay, but Sam just withdraws into himself further and becomes more sad. Up to writer if Dean recognized the problem correctly, or the problem was that each was hiding his feelings for the other, or something else.

Sam/Dean, Marys's POV, maybe...

Date: 2016-11-10 08:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'd like to see Mary's reaction to the book series by Carver Edlund. And that the boys are more than just brothers now as they only have one another.

Marin & Sam

Date: 2016-11-11 01:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Okay, this is something I've wanted for a while - I want Sam and Dean to run into Marin (from The Born-Again Identity), a few years after what happened, because she would've been released (now that her brother isn't trying to kill her), and I'm pretty sure Sam wouldn't have just casually mentioned saving her life.

So I want Dean to find out what happened with Marin, and see what a difference his brother made, even in his darkest hour.


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