citrusjava | SPN 'Something Good Today' Prompt Meme

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SPN 'Something Good Today' Prompt Meme

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!

Fills:
Breadline by

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

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!

Rules:
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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Thanks! <3

Thank you! <3

Thank you! Season 7 really had the Winchesters at rock bottom, so it made sense to set it then. And I have a soft spot for Cage-broken Sammy.

Thank you! <3

Yeah, I actually forgot to give Hallucifer any lines. Ah well. He was probably wandering around the community garden, stealing herbs.

Thank you! And thanks for the PhD wishes. So close now!

Absolutely.

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.

*

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.

YES YES!
You're AWESOME, thank you for this

Aw, sweetie, thank you for caring!
I got some sleep after this- thank you!

*butts in, sorry*
Cage-broken Sammy is an amazing representation to have on tv, and even more special then, thank you Gamble!

I'm totally happy with you butting in, and not just because it's your post ;-)

I think they treated Sam's issues with the Cage quite well, especially because he didn't just lie down and die, he kept going, even when he was dying….

Okay, I'm writing a prompt *runs away*

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.

It's one of those moments of Sam's that fandom gently picks up and pets, while they don't make it to the mythology of the show....

Prompt! Prompt like wind! A sort of fic reading fan!wind!

Fandom does love to pick up and pet hurt/broken Sam. Because we love him, and in a lot of ways it isn't dealt with as fully as it could be.

Perfect! I love the quiet domestic feel of this, of a larger family unit that are tied together and happy for it. Thank you for sharing :)

Thanks! <3

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.”

“Winchester.”

“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.”

“Missouri—”

“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 2016-11-12 00:27 (UTC)

County Sheriff’s truck rumbles up the drive. Lights flash and Mary kind of, puts her hands up. Blinks when a woman climbs out.

“Ma’am, you know this is private property.”

“Yes, yes of course. Bobby Singer was my uncle, and I—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Sheriff shows a palm. “I knew Bobby Singer twenty years. Knew all his family and most of his, associates.”

Mary can’t help herself. “Did you know John Winchester?”

“Winchester?” The sheriff’s demeanor shifts. She studies Mary. “Who are you? And, you can tell me the truth. I know about… things.”

Mary hedges. “John was my husband.”

Brown eyes wide. “Are you a ghost?”

“Nope. Flesh and blood.” She tries to smile.

“But you’re…”

“Back from the dead.”

“Okay.” The woman nods, but stays wary. “Do, Sam and Dean know you’re—”

“They know.”

Sheriff stands down a notch.

“You know my babies?”

“I didn’t meet em until they were grown,” she says, “but yeah.” Handshake, tentative but, “Jody Mills.”

*
Missouri holds her hands. “Now, we turn this cup over right into the cloth, you hear me?”

“I remember.”

(Smoking hookah-loads off this coffee table. “I don’t know what you talkin bout, girl. John Winchester is fine. For Wonderbread. Now flip.”)

Past and present Mary casts the bones. Her old friend old friend covers her mouth; hands, thick nails, arthritic knuckles.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong.” Missouri stares. “Just, ain’t never seen this before. Mary, you’re free.”

*

“C’mere. Somethin you oughta see.” Jody cocks her head and takes off into a labyrinth of rusting hulks. Mary follows. “I kinda, keep an eye on the place since Bobby passed. Found this out here last summer.”

Jody leads to a storage building, sheet metal walls with a pitched roof. Corner of the concrete pad, two tiny handprints.

S.W.

D.W.

1985

Tears tumble down Mary’s face. She kneels, finger-traces the worn depressions.

“Bobby loved those boys like they were his own,” Jody says. “Best I can tell, they always had a home here.”

“Thank you.” Mary breathes.

“Wait here a minute.”

Mary doesn’t know how long she cries, there on her knees. Only pulls it together when she hears the sheriff’s footsteps.

“Coffee?” Jody hands her a thermos and a box of tissues. “I brought,” plaster of Paris, cardboard forms, “stuff to make an impression. If you wanna keep those.”

*

“You have arrived at your destination,” chirps the robot voice and Missouri cuts the engine.

“I still can’t believe that’s a phone.”

“You have one!”

“Which, I barely know how to use.” Mary taps at the screen, frowns. “Sam tried to show me a bunch of stuff, but I… Hey I figured out Uber!”

Missouri laughs. Then, “You sure about this?”

“No.” Mary rolls her shoulders. “What… do you think we’ll find out there?”

“Alpha and Omega, or. The other way around,” Missouri says.

Mary eyes her. “Thanks, Obi-wan.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that’s still a relevant reference.”

“Are we doin this?” Mary leaves the car. Sun shines but she suppresses a shiver.

They pick their way between weed-choked headstones and toppled monuments. “Here,” Missouri says, and a bare patch stretches in front of them. Dip in the ground, perfect circle. “Sam gave his life here, and Dean did his level best to give his.”

Mary looks up, summer sky. Too peaceful, here, where the world was supposed to end. “I can’t do this, Miz.”

“Do what, honey?” Missouri slips an arm around her.

“Live! Now. Like this. My sons re-wrote the book of Revelation. They’re… they’re legends. And they look at me like I’m some kind of mythical creature and if I’m their mother I guess I am, but. I never wanted this. I can’t handle it. John’s gone. And I—”

“John’s not gone.” Lace-edged handkerchief dabs at her face. “He’s alive and well in those two boys he raised.”

Mary takes the hanky. “Why did you bring me here?”

Missouri sighs. “Because, this is where destiny broke, where your boys broke it. And now…” Soft smile. “Destiny’s got no use for you anymore.” Missouri brushes hair behind her ear. “You can let go. Three of you build whatever kind of family you want.”

*

Jody leads the way back toward the main drive. “Neighbor that called you in, said a car dropped you off. You need a ride back to town?”

“Yeah,” Mary says. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Matter-fact,” Jody gives her a long look. “Why don’t you join me for dinner? Meet my girls.”

“I don’t—”

“Aw, come onnnn.” Jody grins, but then. “Meet some of the people they’ve saved.”

(“You keep nosin in that book,” Missouri’d said, just before Mary climbed on the bus. “It’ll lead you where you need to go.”)

“All right,” Mary nods. “Thanks, Jody.”

Edited 2016-11-12 00:32 (UTC)

Shoulda put this in the top post. Apologies...
http://archiveofourown.org/works/8530993

Ohhhh wow. *sniffle* I love fic that foregrounds their precarity. All the heart here, Sam's guilt, and the bits of hell trauma just... ngh. Sorry I'm not more articulate. Please accept that as praise? ^_^

Also, I loved reading about your PhD too. Thank you for sharing that.

Your images are just wonderful. Boys' voices too. Real. Thanks for this. <3

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. <3

Oh wow, this is fantastic. ♥ I love Mary and Missouri being old friends, and Jody and the way they cautiously circle each other for a minute before opening up, and how you still get that sense of her feeling dislocated in the modern world. And how overwhelmed she is on realising the story she's involved in, and freedom. Thank you so, so much for filling this!!! ♥

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Page 3 of 4

SPN 'Something Good Today' Prompt Meme

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: Sam/Dean, body autonomy, lived experience of mi

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

2/2

Re: Sam/Dean, body autonomy, lived experience of mi

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 1/2

Re: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: Re: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

Marin & Sam

Re: Re: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: Re: Re: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: 2/2

RE: 2/2

Fill: "In the Bones" 1/3

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

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

AO3 link for "In the Bones"

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

RE: Sam/Dean, body autonomy, lived experience of mi

RE: FILLED: Breadline Pt 2/2

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