You can’t help but smirk to yourself as you lean back against the counter. Sam and Dean stand facing each other, completely stone-faced as they hold one fist above a flat palm. “Are you guys seriously going to do this?"
”‘Course we are.“ Dean readjusts his stance, still not looking away from his brother. "This is how we solve almost everything."
"Not the best way, but fine,” you respond under your breath. Dean glares at you.
“Alright,” Sam interjects. “Let’s go.”
He raises his fist a couple of inches above his hand, and you watch as the two grown men bring their fists down three times before choosing a hand position. Sam chooses rock, and Dean chooses scissors.
“Bitch!” Dean yells, spinning around on his heels angrily.
Sam smirks and looks over at you. “Always with the scissors.”
Because lesbihonest. We all need fix-it fics today. And yall, please remember that you are not alone. Remember that you are perfect, and valid, and we have each other, and we have our fics, and nothing and no one can ever take that away. You are so, so, so loved <3 <3 <3
A note on the fics: they’re arranged right now in chronological order, so you might want to read them one after another (but you don’t have to).
Rating: light ‘M’ for implicit sexual descriptions
[ one ]
When Marcus Flint is eleven years old, he gets a mark.
A striking, cranberry-red cupcake is stamped between his
shoulder blades, and it’s so unbelievably pretty—delicate—feminine, that he imagines it must be a
mistake. A bad turn. A different Marcus or a different Flint or a different universe, maybe, where his hands aren’t
quite so big and his conscience isn’t quite so small. Regardless, the mark
never really resonates with him, not in any meaningful way, and most days he’s
able to forget that it’s there at all.
Marcus Flint is twenty-one years old when he gets another
Request: You go on a hunt with Sam and Dean and there are only two beds so the boys play rock, paper, scissors, to decide who gets to share a bed with you.
A/N: it’s short but there isn’t much of a story, it’s more like a moment.
“Okay Sammy, two beds, no sofa, one of us is sleeping with Y/N.” Dean spoke, turning to face Sam who almost ran into his older brother.
“Or we could share a bed.” Sam said with a straight face. Dean looked at him with a serious “Dean” face until Sam’s stone wall was broken and he cracked a smile.
“Rock, paper, scissors is the best way to resolve this.” Dean spoke, obviously anxious to get into the room and figure out if he would have to wear his good boxers to bed or not.
“She’s not a reward idiot, just ask her who she wants to sleep with.” Sam spoke in a genuine tone, causing another “Dean” face to appear. Dean looked at Sam for a moment before bringing his hand up in the rock, paper, scissors stance.
“Rock.” Dean began as Sam dropped the bags he was holding and brought his own hand into the stance. “Paper.” Dean said once again. “Scissors, shoot.” he shouted.
Sam was rock, and Dean was paper.
“Ha! Loser.” Dean said, bending over and grabbing his bags before he turned and entered the motel room.
when I was little I used to collect model farm animals. Like a ton of horses, dogs, cats, pigs, roosters all that stuff. But I kept leaving them on the kitchen floor and my mom kept stepping on them and hurting her feet. So she gave me a couple shoeboxes to keep them in.
But then I took one shoebox, got a scissors and cut some holes out of the side so my horses could poke their heads out and see what was going on. Then I cut out some little cardboard squares and taped them above the holes for when the horses were going to sleep and they wanted to shut their windows. The box was turning into a makeshift stable. And from that point it kinda turned into an obsession.
I was stealing all the cardboard boxes in the fuckign house, (along with the scissors and constantly requesting more tape cuz i kept running out) cutting them up, taping them up. I had like 4 cardboard stables, a couple cardboard chicken coops, a cardboard pig pen and a cardboard dog and cat house. And eventually I started making people houses, which just made everything worse.
This was in our playroom so all the barbies and race cars had been shoved into corners to make room for the growing cardboard population. It was taking up the entire floor. You could not physically step into the room without going over this obstacle course of cardboard. It was a disaster.