I absolutely love seeing stories of the boys from outsider POVs. Whether it be a waitress at a run down diner or some helpless victim, it always gives me the warm fuzzies to see our poor boys appreciated instead of often shunned. It's not necessarily when someone creates an OC and they ride around with the boys...K Hanna Korossy's got some excellent examples...a doc that catches Dean trying to steal medical supplies for Sam and ends up accidentally shooting him...an old man that lives by himself in an old cabin that is surrounded by hairy beasts and meets two hunters...
My most favoritest of all is Jules' "Broken Images" (aka mizpah) when one of the poor boys ends up traumatized and institutionalized, all seen through the eyes of the doc. Believe me it's hilarious when all three of them start arguing with each other but there's only one Winchester present...
Well, I've suddenly had the inspiration to start my own little collection. I didn't want to post a one-shot or drabble here and there, so I thought I would start one thread and just add to it as stories hit me. And believe me, they hit me like a big slap to the face sometimes. I've been playing with a few here and there, not all will be positive and not all will be negative.
Essentially this thread will never be "completed", however each post will be a completed tidbit.
Does that that make sense or am I rambling again?
I will warn ahead of time if there be spoilers. Most will probably be beta'd by Jules, I try not to pester her but she doesn't like it when I sneak 'em past her. *grin*
So let me say thanks in advance for anyone who chooses to read and review, and let me get this party started.
This first one is my first drabble, there's about 140 words and spoilers for All Hell Breaks Loose if you haven't seen S2 yet. :blink:
Dean and his friggin' pie. He'd eat dirt if they put it in a pie crust.
Dodging puddles I make my way to the diner.
A quick once over shows nothing more than a single customer and a few sweaty wait staff surrounded by a thick layer of grease.
I get halfway through "extra onions" when the lights flicker.
Distracted I peer up at the bulbs, a uneasy wave rolling in my stomach.
The man in front of me gurgles, and my gaze drops to land on his slashed throat before he crumples behind the counter.
I whip my head around and find the man at the table already drowning and flailing in his own puddle of crimson.
A hand grabs my shirt and before I can even cry out everything goes black in an echo of swirling yellow irises.
See you next time!