A Hiatus (SPN genfic, 1777 words, G)

I wrote this for @quickreaver for Summergen 2017. She had some super creative prompts but I chose this one: ‘downtime’.

LJ || AO3

Dean doesn't notice Sam's beard growing in until he looks up one morning and double-takes at the mountain man entering the kitchen. "Dude," he says, and Sam, soft in long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants, blinks at him through a halo of tousled hair. Come to think of it, that's longer than normal too, curling at the nape of his neck where it's usually disciplined into something at least approximating order just under his ears. "You going for some kind of Chewbacca deal?" Dean asks, and Sam rubs a hand over his jaw, back up through his hair which ends up sticking up worse than ever. "Just don't see the need to cut it right now," he says. "I only do it for the Fed outfits, anyway, and we haven't had a proper case in forever." Then he shuffles over to the coffee machine and makes himself a fancy latte with one of the bottles of syrup that have appeared on the counter in the last few weeks. "I'm pretty sure you've been a good few inches off an FBI regulation cut for the past five years," says Dean. Sam shrugs broad shoulders and Dean looks down at his black coffee, sniffing enviously and surreptitiously at the caramel-vanilla scent that wafts in his direction from Sam's girly turquoise eco-mug. It's true that they haven't caught a hunt in a little while. It might be something to do with the Brits; they got so used to being drip-fed leads via text message that he and Sam have gotten lazy on their usual routine of scouring the web for whatever weird stuff might be happening in their line. Add to that, it's summer, and things always just seem to die down a little this time of year. It's like payback for the enormous shit-show that kicks off every spring.

Later that morning, making a grocery run in the 90-degree Kansas heat, Dean can understand why the creepies of the American Midwest, at least, might choose to lie dormant for a few weeks every year. The car has air conditioning but it's old and not good for much, and the black paint and leather interior combine to turn his baby into a sweatbox that has him gasping for the cooler as soon as he hits the gas station on the outskirts of town. He buries his face amongst the chill plastic bottles of soda before reaching in further to swipe the coldest Coke he can find from the back of the shelf. Then he grabs an armful of miscellaneous chips and candy, and three boxes of Popsicles from the freezer by the door. When he gets home he stashes the groceries and is disconcerted to find that Sam isn't in the library, or in his bedroom, or in any of the easily accessible rooms downstairs. Dean is just getting concerned when his phone buzzes with a message. "Did I hear the car? I'm outside. Up the back stairs." Dean bristles at the implied instruction before realising that he has nothing better to do, grabbing a beer for both of them, and heading out. He finds Sam in the centre of a cleared area of ground, hidden from the view of passers-by by virtue of its location in the middle of the disused power station next to their home. Brown brick walls climb up enormous in every direction, the huge span of earth between them covered mostly with nettles and weeds. Dean's only been up here once before, waded through thorns into the open vault of the building and retreated rapidly back down again when he realised it housed nothing but ragged bushes and bits of uncleared factory junk. Sam, though, must have been working on this project for a long time. He's dug out a large, rectangular plot against one of the walls, from which tendrils of green curl up against the brickwork, clinging into the crevices. Neat rows of small plants march out in rows across the earth, right up to the edges of the patch. Evidently, the need for space is such that Sam's decided to expand; Dean's dumbass brother has chosen as his occupation on this hot summer day the insanely unsuitable task of breaking up the next patch of the concrete floor. Just as Dean emerges out into the sunlight, Sam brings a huge heavy mallet down onto the ground, sending dusty powder spraying up in every direction. He staggers backward, drops the mallet and wipes a sweaty forearm over his face. "Beer," says Dean, offering a bottle damp with condensation. Sam gawps at him like he's fricking God's heavenly messenger before taking the beer in a blistered hand and downing what looks like three-quarters of the bottle. "Gardening," Dean says, half a question. Gardening Winchester-style, with a sledgehammer and steel-toed boots. "Yeah," says Sam. He indicates the vines presently sunning themselves against the brick. "Tomatoes are coming out, look." He's not wrong. There are plump red cheeks peeking from under the leaves, all over the wall. "I thought we could jar them up for pasta sauce or something." "Sure," says Dean. He looks at the wall, assessing. There are a lot of tomatoes. "I wasn't sure if they'd take," Sam says. "But." "Yeah," says Dean. He reaches out and snags the nearest tomato, holds it poised for a moment between his two fingers before he pops it into his mouth and bites into it, where it bursts wet and vivid over his tongue. Pasta sauce is always useful, he supposes. He looks at Sam again. It's not just the beard and the unkempt hair that make his brother look wilder than usual. Sam's built up a tan through these days outside, is golden brown where he's too often library-pallid from hibernating with only the glow of a laptop to sustain him, his arms swelling bronzed and sledgehammer-strong. It's also the clothes. Rather than the usual layers of plaid or his neat Fed suit, Sam is wearing an old shirt, a scruffy tee with a hole along one side of the collar that he (naturally) has sweat right through. He smells terrible.

For some reason, the whole disgusting spectacle makes Dean feel great. "You want a popsicle?" he says, and Sam's eyes light up. "Back in a second." They sit straight-legged on the baking concrete and eat the popsicles, looking up through the ragged edges of the factory's rafters to the bright blue Kansas sky. A bird of prey wheels overhead, something big - an eagle, maybe - and suddenly Dean's jolted into a memory of another summer, a motel in the middle of the Arizona desert with an outdoor pool and the sky open like this above them, Dad gone and he and Sam the only people for miles around, except for the worn-out middle-aged woman who ran the place. Dean had done bombs into the deep end of the pool and Sam had ploughed earnestly up and down, swimming laps, his chest and shoulders just starting to fill out into adolescence. Dad had been on some hunt that he hadn't thought Dean ready for (Dean wonders now if it was a siren, something like that). School had been out. Doubtless whatever followed after had been the usual terrifying horror show, but thinking back to that moment what Dean remembers is the quiet and the unusual sense of freedom, of peace. "We could build a pool out here," he says. Sam raises his eyebrows, looks around. "It's big enough, I guess." He glances down at the hammer. "Don't much fancy digging that out by hand." "Yeah." They'd need some machinery, of course, but that could be done. This is farm country. Dean could source a digger, put on dungarees and a southern accent and talk nonsense about crops. No reason why not. "You got anything else fit to eat?" he asks Sam, swiping another tomato. Sam has some zucchini bristling under broad leaves at the back of the plot, so they yank them free and make a garlicky, buttery pasta dish for dinner. After, Dean comes back up outside, notionally to measure out for his pool-in-progress but really to relish the stars scattered overhead across the huge, black-purple sky. Sam comes up with a glass of whiskey and they sit in the dark together, the herby scent of the vegetable patch floating exotic in the air around. "Summer vacation," Dean says, and Sam says, "Breathing space," rapid and a little uncertain. He smiles at Dean, a quick flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Yeah," says Dean. Dean sticks a message on a local small ads site, looking to borrow a digger. He marks out ground across the other side of the space to where Sam has his vegetable patch, deciding how big they need to make their pool. He gets the other sledgehammer and starts breaking up the concrete, acquires a pretty thick tan of his own, and develops his own beard (which, okay, takes a little longer to grow in than Sam's). He's sleeping better than he has done in years, worn out with physical work and the peculiar tiredness of long days in the sun. It's August third when Sam knocks on his door in the morning and sticks his head into the room. He's clean shaven, his cheeks oddly pale against the tan band of skin across his eyes and nose. "Sorry, man," Sam says. "Caught a job up in Wisconsin. Djinn." "All right," says Dean. He rubs his hands over his face, beard prickling under his palms. That'll have to go. The Fed threads are hanging neatly in his wardrobe, a little musty after their long summer of disuse. A lifetime of training means his weapons kit is ready and waiting. He tugs it all out, the guns, the knives, the ammo, and fights down the knot of regret, reluctance, whatever it is that is weighing down his stomach. "Come on," he says to himself in the mirror, shaving away the evidence of the weeks off work. His old self stares back at him. Dean feels his shoulders sag. As the car pulls out onto the highway, the sky rattles thunder. A fat drop of rain hits the windshield. Sam wrinkles his nose and looks up into the darkening clouds. "Good for the garden," he says. Then he pulls a Tupperware out of nowhere. The scent of fresh-picked tomatoes fills the car. Dean's stomach begins to unclench. He looks over at his brother. "You still haven't cut your hair." Sam grins at him. "Eh, it's not exactly regulation anyway." "Yeah, okay." Dean says. He grabs for the Tupperware box. "Give me one of those."

2017 Creators Tag

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created last year (fics, art, edits, etc!) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2017. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original!) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

I was tagged by the totally awesome and hecka talented @fandoms-have-taken-over-my-life. :D 

Tbh, I did not do much this year in terms of projects - partly because the first part of the year was taken up by major joblessness (and low key something-like-probably-some-depression), then it was occupied by actually working on original fiction (of which I can’t link because it’s still just super drafty stages in an array of googledocs), then because the rest of my time was my sister’s wedding followed immediately by getting completely swallowed by art university (which I’m about to get swallowed by again for another semester, so you know, bye till April. XD) 

So of what I did get done...

1. art for “Up In The Air, Junior Birdman” - This was quite a manip challenge, but I’m pretty happy with the end result. :D

2. Radio Nowhere - written for SPN Summergen 2017, I did a Frequency AU with Sam and Dean. I’m a sucker for time travel anything!! 

3. that original fiction I can’t link you to because it’s still a draft - it’s not done, it’s got gaping holes, and etc, but the fact that I even have as much as I do, is amazing. I honestly can’t wait for summer break from school so I can get back to it properly!!

4. art for “Nothing Ever Happens in Sioux Falls - I’m just obsessed with the author’s idea that Stiles is Jody’s nephew, and I love how the title art turned out.

5. Ink - actually, looking over my list of works on AO3 for 2017... ya. This one. It came literally out of nowhere and surprised me. I had fully intended to write a different rare pair for my recipient (for RarePair Fest 2017) but could not make it happen, and this came out at the eleventh hour and I actually quite like it!???

Well, there we go! I probably made some cool stuff in art school this semester, but honestly, I am way too close to it at the moment so I mostly hate the stuff I made for one reason or another. XD Thanks for tagging me, Jaden, this was fun!!

Tagging: you!! Everyone!! YOU! Please @ me so I can see what you’re proud of! :)

In the Beginning, There Was Sam

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wLXKUS

by brokenlittleboy

Dean is content to drink himself to death the in company of Ben and Lisa, but when Bobby calls, asking for help, he can’t let his friend down. Omens creep toward Sioux Falls, a trail of breadcrumbs leading right up to one very not-dead, very blind little brother. AU after season five.

For Wetsammywinchester for the 2017 summergen.

Words: 3091, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Post-Hell, Psychological Trauma, Post-Cage, Season/Series 06, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hell Trauma, Blindness, Blind Sam Winchester

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wLXKUS

Day at the Beach - Superantural Summergen 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wshIkY

by kuwlshadow

Dean and Sam head to the beach with Castiel in tow after a touch case on the coast of California. Castiel is a bit over dressed for the occasion. Sam and Dean spend the day showing how to have fun on the beach.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wshIkY

Summergen 2017 fic recs

I’ve been doing these posts for a few years (2016 || 2015 art, fics 1, 2, 3 || 2014) and have finally caught up with this year’s Summergen just before reveals (much more fun when it’s all incognito) - here are the ones I most enjoyed, though there are many more that are worth reading. (I also wrote one for this year’s challenge, as usual, so you should go and try and see if you can spot my work...)

FIC

2081: A dark, bleak, Sam-centric Demon!Dean AU with some unexpected minor characters and a super compelling atmosphere (5200 words, R)

Before I Sleep: Extremely well-told casefic, set in a cave - don't read it if you're claustrophobic because it is VERY VIVID! But otherwise do read it because it's great (14k words, PG)

Letting the Days Go By: Mary with Sam and Dean as kids, juggling motherhood with a niggling, irresistible need to hunt (5700 words, PG)

Coffeehouse ft Alternate Universe: This was the fic written for my prompt and it's so unexpected and wonderful. Sort of meta, sort of crack done seriously (which you know is my FAVOURITE genre) - Sam and Dean and a series of parallel universes. Go read it! (6800 words, PG)

Struggling to Communicate: Castiel and Linda Tran work a case. Why not? (8300 words, PG)

Long Before We Fall: Early S8. Dean sustains a serious injury. They deal. I'm not a hurt!Dean person generally but this fic is so, so, so worth reading - for both Sam and Dean - it's beautifully written and it just feels real and painful (but not gratuitously painful) and true. (5400 words, PG)

The Path of Perfect Logic: An outsider POV fic with a great OC and an interesting case at its heart. (8200, PG)

Though I Walk Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death: The consequences of the broken blood oath with Billie in 12x09. Understated and effective. (3100 words, R)

As Other Birds: Sam and Dean, Max and Alicia post-12x20. This one is slippery but it's creepy and it works. (2700 words, PG)

Children of the Resurrection: Another outsider POV fic with an interesting, vividly realised OC - this one has a sting in the tail that I really liked (5400 words, PG)

Signs of Life: Nothing fancy but a lovely, rich little episode tag to Red Meat (and y'all know I love Red Meat) (2000 words, PG)

Brontide: A super-creepy Sam-centric fic that will get under your skin (1700 words, PG)

ART

A Parting of the Veil: Hurt!Sam, ghosts, beautiful artwork and animation, super atmospheric

Rae's Diner: Not only fantastic artwork but a super intriguing little fic to go with

The Road to Palo Alto: The night Sam leaves for Stanford (I've read this written many times but rarely seen it drawn, and this works so well)

Go forth and enjoy, guys!

Gardening Woes

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2jigF4U

by jennytork

Written for 2017 Summergen, based on a prompt by Septembers-Coda. The prompt is the first sentence of the summary.

SUMMARY: All Sam wants is to have a garden -- is that too much to ask? Apparently it is, leading Dean and Cas to call in some help.

Words: 1663, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Additional Tags: spoilery guest star, Dean is a poet, possibly canon-compliant

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2jigF4U