#samjessweek15

bohemianboswell:

Title: “Broken For You”

Word Count: 252

Prompt: “Loss” for Sam/Jess week 2015 (I am aware it is posted late :)

Notes and Warnings: Mentions of blood addiction. Past Sam/Jess.

Fandom: Supernatural

…

Tell me, is it possible for demons to feel as humans do?

Sometimes I feel like a web. I understand now, but the silk of me, my life blood, strains and pulls in the wind. Though their spinsters may be immortalized in legend, what is Arachne if not for her web? She is a transient creature. Forgotten, unimportant, lest mired by sunlight. You want to know if it is possible to bring a demon to feel as a human? Never.

-3rd known journal of Sarah L. Winchester, 1913 AD

 …

There were streaks on his lips the color of her name, but dark, so much dark. When he pulled her closer, she lay her ear upon him tentatively, like a mouse wise to a baited trap. He kissed the crown of her head. Outside, the wind sang a doleful dirge, bringing the cabin panels to creak their chorus lament. “Jess,” he joined their song, and her brow furrowed in her silence. She knew his eyes would appear blown, his iris’ thin like detritus circling a black hole.  

“Jess,” he sighed, and Ruby felt herself a timeless ant on a mortal mountain as, delicately, arms enshrouded her like strong mist. She cringed when fingers ghosted through the threads of her hair. Run. Flee. Out of breath, the forest would provide her needed shade. Then a hand as tender iron moved, tracing ballads across her stolen flesh. The moon reflected the only light that it knew, and a demon sighed in the dark.  

mrsbluebertgreggleson:

After the —- the ghost is gone — dragged into Hell or something — they don’t say a word to each other. Sam takes his cue from Jessica and stays sitting with her in the car. She hasn’t gotten out. Not even after Sam crashed it through a house, which is… She never expected anything like that out of him. Sam, who’s all about the rules and doing things right — running from police, faking an emergency call to help his brother break out, credit card scams and impersonating people and smashing cars right through haunted houses.

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quakerhobbit:

So far I’ve just been doing ficlets for samjessweek, but today’s theme is “hunting,” and I’ve got some meta I’d like to throw out there as well, specifically on the topic of why it is perfectly possible for Sam and Jess to have a healthy relationship without her knowing about hunting.

Basically, and I don’t know how popular it is just that it’s out there, there’s this notion that Sam/Jess was inherently unhealthy because he didn’t tell her about hunting.

Bullshit.

Things Sam could have told Jess that would convey important truths about his life without ever getting into the “oh btw monsters are totally real” part of it:

• his mom died in a fire when he was a baby
• they moved around constantly for his dad’s job
• they didn’t have a lot of money
• he never felt like he fit in and fought with his dad a lot about the way they lived
• he was really close to his brother because he wasn’t really able to make friends with the way they lived

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE.

Sam didn’t even have to go into that much detail if he didn’t want to. Once they got to know each other enough that it would be natural to maybe share about their childhoods, a perfectly valid (and likely, in my opinion) thing for Sam to say would be “Yeah, I really don’t want to talk about it, and I’m not sure I ever will. I get it if that’s not OK with you and you need to bail, but that’s just kinda how it is.”

And I think Jess would have accepted that because she was into Sam and respected him and saw what a good person he was so as far as she was concerned his past was his business, and then been delighted whenever Sam did share any tidbits with her, which I like to think he’d started to do by the pilot. She knew he had a brother named Dean, and I like to think he told her about soccer, and being a mathlete, and being in Our Town and doing tech for Oklahoma! and whatever other scraps of normality he was able to find at various points in his life.

Now, people like to argue that Sam was putting Jess in danger by not telling her about monsters. But here’s the thing: at that point in his life, Sam didn’t know that. He didn’t know that demons were watching him and had a plan for him. His knowledge of the hunting world, of monsters, was that they popped up randomly, and hunters dealt with them. He didn’t know that he had to worry about being followed and watched and manipulated by the supernatural. Sam can’t be expected to protect Jess from a danger he didn’t know existed.

tl;dr: Sam and Jess were adorable and precious and super in love and had a happy healthy relationship and the fact that it ended with her dead will always always hurt me so thank goodness for fanfiction.

quakerhobbit:

Today’ssamjessweek theme is “hunting,” so here’s another ficlet I’ve had lying around for a long time. It’s a scene from an AU where Jess lives and helps the boys hunt, but then things calm down/she talks sense into them, and she and Sam go back to school, but then Azazel takes Sam, but because of Jess they’re able to get him out of Cold Oak alive. This takes place in the aftermath of that.

    They all three checked into a motel room together, exhausted and spent. They hadn’t discussed it, agreed on it, but it was what they all needed.

    Sam and Jess shared a pillow in the middle of their bed, warm breath on each others’ faces, legs tangled, arms tight around each other.

    Dean sprawled across his bed on his stomach. He’d stolen Sam and Jess’ unused extra pillow and made himself a little nest of sorts.

    None of them slept. They were too busy listening to the reassuring sound of the others’ breathing, breathing regularly but not regularly or deeply enough for sleep, too afraid that if they went to sleep the sound would be gone when they woke up.

    Dean listened to the breathing from the other bed. His punk-ass little brother who he’d failed to protect from the horror of the past two days, who had barely come out alive, who was quiet in that way that meant he was keeping things to himself, and they probably weren’t good. His brother who, after everything, refused to kill a person when there was any way to avoid it.

    And Jessica, who somehow became his sister long before Sam put that ring on her finger, who was infuriatingly, refreshingly lacking in the myopic perspective that came from a lifetime of hunting, who had never looked as scared in the face of a monster as she had when he picked her up after her frantic phone call telling him that Sam was gone and there was sulphur on the windowsill. Jessica who chose her battles but then fought them fierce and bloody.

    Sam listened to his brother breathe in the other bed, his brother who had come for him, who had found a way, who did what Sam couldn’t let himself do. He tried to find that unreasonable wave of safe that had swept over him when he heard Dean call his name, desperate and scared, in the street of the ghost town. The part of him that would always be the little brother toddling after his all-knowing and all-powerful big brother believed that as long as Dean was there, he could never really be hurt. Even though he knew it wasn’t true, he clung to that sensation.

    He listened to Jess breathe, felt it waft over his face. He’d been so scared he’d never see her again, so scared of what it would do to her if he didn’t make it out alive. But she’d come for him, fierce and strong and full of love and righteous wrath. Yellow-eyes and Jake had both underestimated her, assumed that because she was beautiful and soft and feminine and only hunted when necessary that she was easily swept aside. But Sam knew. He knew the strength and fierceness of her empathy and compassion. He knew the way stress focused her often-scattered thoughts into an incisive razor’s edge. He knew the physical force of her body, honed with years of dance and yoga and cross country and martial arts and ultimate frisbee. He didn’t see how the forces of hell could do worse than taking away the chance to spend his life with her, learning the parts of her that were still mysteries, that had yet to come into being, and letting her learn him, too. He tried to pull her closer into his chest, but she was already as close as she could be.

    Jess listened to them breathe, these brothers who took up so much of her world these days. Dean, obnoxious and ridiculous and over-protective and hilarious and caring in all the ways fiction had taught her a big brother should be. Dean, whose shell was finally softening, who was finally starting to accept that he could have normal, too, when it all came crashing down again. Dean, who she knew would do anything, probably more than he should, to keep Sam safe.

    And Sam, next to her. She almost lost him today, and just the thought makes it harder to breathe for an instant, and she tries to burrow closer into his chest, but she’s already as close as she can get. Sam, tall and athletic and downright dangerous when he needs to be. Sam, sweet and caring and funny. Sam, intelligent and nerdy and focused. Sometimes too focused, sometimes he gets tunnel vision. Sometimes he gets angry, and she doesn’t know which is scarier, the hot blazing wrath or the stranglehold of control he uses to choke it back, leaving it to fester somewhere deep inside if he doesn’t attend to it in a constructive way. Her Sam, who wants to save the world but can barely believe he is worth saving. She wants to tell him every day, wants to repeat it until he believes it: he is worth it, worth even days like today.

    They are exhausted, but they do not sleep. They lie there in the dark, and they breathe, and they listen.

samwinchesterforthewin:

Forsamjessweek. Today’s theme: Hunting

Jess noticed the scars Sam had. On his arms and legs and torso. But she never asked about them, and Sam never asked about hers.

Jess knew Sam would pick a table near a corner, so he could see everyone and every exit. That’s okay, though.  Jess would have picked the same spot if he hadn’t.

Sam never talked about his childhood, but Jess never talked about hers, either.

When Sam left with the shaky excuse that his father got lost and drunk, Jess knew it was a lie. But she let him leave and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

For two days, Jess worried about Sam and what could be out there with him. After all, you can take the girl out of hunting, but you can’t take the hunting out of the girl.

She had just laid out a plate of cookies for Sam, and then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  When Brady showed up at the door, Jess knew something was wrong. She muttered, “Christo,” under her breath and she saw Brady’s eyes turn black. That’s when she ran. Jess was locking the bedroom door and smoothing out her rug before her mind registered what she was doing. There was a false bottom in her nightstand, and there she found her journal with an exorcism in it. 

She was ready when the demon slammed open the door. The salt wouldn’t hold forever, after all. It smirked, walked forward, and said, “What are you gonna do, Jessica? Read me a bed time story?”

“No,” Jess was smirking too. “I think I’ll send you back to Hell instead.”

Brady’s face – the demon wearing Brady’s face - morphed into surprise, and possibly fear, before it changed to anger.

“I’d like to see you try.” That’s the only warning Jess got before the demon was running straight for her. She barely suppressed the urge to flee when Brady hit an invisible barrier and fell backwards from the impact.

Eyes blazing with fury, the demon ran forward again, and again, fell onto its back. 

“Devils’ trap.” Jess said with more than a little vehemence. “You made a mistake possessing my friend.”

The demon looked down at the rug with disgust. 

Jess began the exorcism, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” The demon started twitching and its breathing (she couldn’t tell if it was the demon or Brady) became labored.

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio

infernalis adversarii, omnis legio-“

“Jess!”

“Sam?”

Standing in the doorway was Sam, eyes full of surprise and fear.

While Sam and Jess stared at each other, Brady muttered under his breath.

“Per in meus confinementset.

Incendia qua flamma mos catch.

Burn insquequo illic est nusquam left ut burn.

Burn insquequo cinis cineris smolder humi.”

The smell of smoke alerted both Sam and Jess to the rug, which was burning. The fire quickly caught on the wooden floors and the rug was halfway burnt when the demon smirked and disappeared.

“Run!” Jess screamed over the increasing flames.

Jess grabbed a cover from her and Sam’s bed, wrapped it around herself, and ran through the flames. On the other side, Sam was trying to dampen the fire with their emergency fire extinguisher. 

“C’mon!” Jess screamed as she grabbed his hand and dropped the burning blanket. They both ran out of the apartment in time to see the flames reach the ceiling. Firefighters were already arriving and two were trying to push a man in a leather jacket back from the scene.

Paramedics started walking towards them when they noticed Sam and Jess covered in smoke and ashes, but Sam was already running towards the man in the jacket and dragging Jess with him. “Dean!” he shouted over the commotion.

“Sammy!” came the reply. Before Jess could say anything, they were both hugging fiercely, though the short guy – Sam’s brother, Jess remembered absently - looked kind of embarrassed when they let go.

Just then, it hit Jess. Her apartment and all her belongings – sadly including her hunting journal – were gone.

“Shit.” She whispered under her breath as she started to get dizzy. Must be the comedown from the adrenaline, she vaguely realized. Slowly, she sat down on the curb.

“Hey Jess? Are you okay?”  She heard someone – Sam - say above her.

“Fine. I’m fine.” She responded.  She could see Sam sit next to her out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah, I know. God, I have to call my parents and get new clothes. And I think we need to have a talk.”

Sam let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

They were at a motel, one with a small kitchenette, two bedrooms, and actual channels on the TV. Jess already called her parents, who were frantic but unfortunately stuck in a snowstorm after hunting a spirit in a lighthouse. Jess knew she had enough money for new clothes and other belongings but there was definitely not enough for a new apartment or even a car. Dean, picking up on the obvious tension between Jess and Sam, left under the pretense of getting food.

“So…” she said.

“So…” Sam said back.

“Uhm…”So much for a conversation, Jess thought.

“Okay, I’ll just cut to the chase.” She took a deep breath. “We’re both hunters. We both know what’s out there. We both saw that a demon possessed Brady and… he tried to kill me. Now he’s gone because I didn’t finish exorcising him and he did some kind of weird fire spell to escape. And if he – it - could do a spell inside a devils’ trap, then it was also really powerful. As far as I know, anyway.” Jess finished in one rush. 

“Yeah that’s pretty much- wait. What’s a devils’ trap?” Sam asked.

“Oh, it’s this thing that can trap demons indefinitely. It really comes in handy for exorcisms.”

“Oh, okay. So, uh, anyway, I think I know why the demon tried to kill you.”

“I’m listening.” Jess stated, somewhat worriedly.

“Well, see, when I was a baby, six months old to the day – yesterday actually - a demon came into my nursery, I don’t know why, and killed my mom on the ceiling. According to my dad, her, uh, her stomach was cut open and the place caught on fire. It could just be a coincidence, but with it being the same day my mom died andthe demon setting the place on fire, it makes sense. So, yeah. That’s how we started hunting.” He looked down then, as if Jess would yell at him. “Sorry I never told you.”

“Well I never told you so I’d say we’re even.” Sam looked up at that, a small, hesitant smile on his lips.

“So that hunting trip your father got lost on…” 

“It was a woman in white up in Jericho.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Did you find him?”

“No. I mean, I know he’s okay because he left Dean coordinates in his journal, but we never actually saw him. Oh, also, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Dean thinks it would be safer if we left Stanford and I agree. I’m gonna drop out, and I think you should, too.”

“That makes sense…” Jess swallowed. “We’ll go get it settled tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. So that’s taken care of.”

“Okay, well I’m going to bed.” Jess got up and started walking to the closest bedroom. “Oh, and Sam?”

Jess waited until he looked up before she continued. “Your brother isn’t going to hit on me, is he?”

Sam laughed at that and answered as honestly as possible. “I don’t want to be him if he does, but it’s a possibility.”

 “I guess I better think of some new insults, then.” Jess said in a peppy voice before she closed the door.

She could hear Sam’s laughter through the wall. 

The next morning, Jess woke up next to Sam, who unfortunately still smelt like smoke. The clock on the night stand read 7:00 am.

“Hey. Sam. Wake up.”

“Huh?” he mumbled in a groggy voice.

“Hey, c’mon. You need another shower. You still smell like smoke.”

“Give me five more minutes,” he groaned into the pillow. “Or at least some coffee.”

Jess wasn’t taking no for an answer. “No, you’ll get up now, go take a shower, and have some coffee afteryou get out and no longer smell like you went swimming in a fire pit. Okay?”

“Fine,” Sam retorted like a sulking teenager. It made Jess laugh.

In the kitchen, Jess found Dean already making coffee.

He looked at the shirt she borrowed from Sam’s duffle bag, snorted, and went back to looking for mugs. 

“What?” Jess said, a frown flitting across her features.

“Nothing.” Dean responded.

“Uh-huh.” Jess grabbed the mug Dean was reaching for.

Before Dean could say something to go along with the (hilarious) look on his face, Sam walked into the room, hair still soaking wet.

“Hey,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hey,” Dean and Jess said at the same time. Jess hid a smile at the annoyed look on Dean’s face.

Dean waited until everybody had gotten coffee before he spoke again. “So, I know you guys have to quit Stanford and get new clothes and stuff, so I figured I would go see if there might be any clues at your apartment. Old apartment.” He hastened to add.

“Okay, that sounds cool.” Sam’s voice was oddly perky, but his face was unreadable.

Jess, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound, to busy mentally planning a wardrobe better suited for hunting.

They left a week later with no evidence that anything but a fire happened.

Jess never looked back.

mrsbluebertgreggleson:

“So you were a…”

“A Sun Queen,” Jess supplied, beaming. “And yes, I was.”

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quakerhobbit:

quakerhobbit:

Written for today’s samjessweek theme, “Sun Queen.”

Just a head’s up, this has references to The Silmarillion. Basically all you need to know is that Arien was the lesser goddess who drove the chariot of the sun through the sky in Middle Earth, and she didn’t look humanoid, instead choosing to wear something closer to her true form of flame.

“They were robbed!” Jess raved. “I’m so mad! That was bullshit! They never even kissed! Éowyn and Faramir in the Houses of Healing is one of my favorite things in the whole fucking trilogy, and is also super important because it’s like the peak of Éowyn’s character development and self-awareness, plus that kiss up on the battlements in the sun where everyone can see them is the most romantic thing ever, and they cut practically the whole thing! Ugh!” And with that, Jess flopped over onto her back on the couch, kicking her legs onto Sam’s lap, and throwing a pillow over her face for dramatic effect.

Sam smiled, amused that this was the change that was upsetting her the most. Of course, he knew how important Éowyn was to her, and she was right that trimming the scenes to nearly nothing was more detrimental to Éowyn’s character arc than to Faramir’s, which was what he’d been paying more attention to. Still, “Now, don’t hate me, but personally I’m a lot more offended that they completely left out the scouring of the Shire,” Sam said.

“Oh my god, right?” Jess said, throwing the pillow on the floor and sitting up. “Talk about missing the fucking point!”

“Exactly! They hobbits weren’t supposed to go home and find everything just as they’d left it! The war affected them and their home, too, but because of their adventures they were able to save it and rebuild it! But they were still different, everything was different …” Sam trailed off.

Jess looked at him intently, knowing this was one of those moments where the conversation had made him think about that part of his life that he kept all to himself, the part that had left scars and nightmares and lots of odd little behaviors in its wake. “Still,” she said, hoping to bring him back to the present, back to her, “I’m definitely more upset about Éowyn and Faramir.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. But, regardless, best movie ever?”

“Best movie ever,” she agreed, grinning. “And now we have to ask ourselves the very serious question of whether it’s even worth keeping the DVDs of the theatrical versions, now that we have all three extended editions in all their glory.”

“Hmm,” said Sam, attempting to be serious but breaking into a smile.

“All right, just for that, you’re about to be treated to an extended lecture on the importance of Éowyn and Faramir kissing in front of the whole city, both in the book and in the development of my notions of romance.”

“Yes, professor,” Sam said meekly, laughter dancing in his eyes.

…

“And you really won’t tell me what this is about?” Jess asked for the hundredth time as they pulled into the parking lot of Foothills Park the next day.

“Since when am I not allowed to plan a spontaneous hike for us on a beautiful sunny day?” Sam asked.

“Since you’ve had your ‘up to something’ face on the whole time.”

Sam did his best to look innocent. “I have an ‘up to something’ face?”

Jess swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t play innocent with me, mister! You know I’m building up an immunity to your puppy eyes.”

“I thought you said that was impossible to build up an immunity.”

“Shut up.”

Sam led the way, choosing trails that led to the top of a hill. They held hands and talked as they hiked. The sky was clear, there was a light breeze, and the temperature was just right.

They stopped when they reached the hill’s summit. Sam turned to face Jess, admiring the way her hair looked as it caught the sunlight, shining gold. She looked at him curiously.

“You know,” he said. “I bet if Arien had chosen to maintain a form the way the other Valar and Maiar did, she would have looked like you.”

Jess laughed. “Where did that come from?”

“Just you, standing here in the sun, all tall and, as I’m sure Tolkien would say, queenly. I mean, originally I brought you up here because,” and he pulled her close and kissed her deeply, one hand on her face and the other in her hair; she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing herself against him. When they broke apart, breathing a little more heavily than normal, Sam continued, “It might not be Gondor, and there might not be lots of people to see and smile, but it was the best I could do.”

“Oh,Sam,” she said, and pulled his face down to kiss him again.

mrsbluebertgreggleson:

“Do you want me to help?”

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bohemianboswell:

Title: “Home”

Word Count: 424

Prompt: “Home” for Sam/Jess week 2015 (I am aware it is posted late :)

Warnings: Depression, PTSD

Fandom: Supernatural

She didn’t always understand him. In fact, most often she didn’t. Perhaps that is what drew her toward him first. The giant with starburst eyes, changing congruently by the flicker of computer backlight. He slouched like an uncertain sequoia, but his laughter held youth like sentient amber. She didn’t understand how a smile could hold hope and belief while marking eyes with sorrow. Not knowing what else to do, she would try to make him laugh and whisper the truth, “I am proud of you.”

She didn’t mind his compulsions, pretending to ignore the way he tried to check the locks on windows and doors without drawing her attention, or how his face became a mask upon entering a new room, eyes scanning almost clinically. It scared her though, when she would wake to find the sheets saturated by his sweat, his long body writhing and teeth grinding like a guard to caged whimpers. It scared her, but she would crawl across him and settled her body over his. She would tell him, “I’ll protect you,” and would listen, rubbing his arms and pressing her ear to his chest as his heartbeat steadied and his breath no longer hissed from flared nostrils, “you’re safe here.”  

Sometimes he felt like all he ever did was run. The monsters in the darkness were normal, so he fled from nightmares, from himself, from everything he thought he could have been. He ran inward until he felt red with blood, emptiness personified. Emptiness and tree rot pretending to stand sturdy in a forest of flame. He didn’t need to remove the darkness to know that his walls were bland, his marginal existence hidden beneath a mattress. The nights had a way of whittling, shedding strips as his space retreated, at himself, smaller and smaller. The whittlers fancying him their darling immaculate, the boy in the past would no longer have a face. Without space he wouldn’t dare to move, or even desire breath as every twitch threatened to shatter the aged balsa and bring the earth to fall down upon him.

And then, as it often was, the wondering would begin. The sun far was a distant star whittled by the night, and it burned like a seed in a dark sea. Then sometimes with thrashing, at other times without intent, he would find himself breathing. And from within, like a burgeoning birdsong sighing from a hollow he would hear it, “I am proud of you.” In the ocean endless black, a root, like a finger, touches home.     

quakerhobbit:

quakerhobbit:

Today’s theme for samjessweek is “Teasing,” and I’ve been sitting on this ficlet for a while, and I think it fits.

    Sam looked up at the knock on his door, and the girl Brady had insisted on introducing him to earlier poked her head inside.

    “Hey, sorry to bother you—it’s Sam, right?”

    “Yeah. And you’re Jessica?”

    “Yeah—Dani’s roommate.”

    “Right, yeah. Can I help you with something? You can come in and close the door if you want—might make it easier to hear yourself think.”

    She smiled and did as he suggested. “Thanks. That’s … kind of why I came in here. It’s just gotten really loud out there, and I didn’t want to lock myself in the bathroom because I’m pretty sure some of those hooligans are going to need it sooner rather than later—do I want to know how Brady got that much alcohol?—and I really hate to interrupt your studying, but I was kind of wondering if I could chill in here for a few minutes? Just to catch my breath?”

    “Oh, yeah, no problem! Unless you want to sit on the floor, pretty much your only option is at the desk. Or I could move and—”

    “The desk is fine. That way I can sit and quietly judge you based on whatever novels are on your bookshelf while you continue to be the only student on campus who does homework on a Saturday night,” she said, indicating the books and papers spread around Sam where he sat on his bed.

    “Well, I needed a break anyway, and if you’re going to judge me, I think I should be allowed to defend myself. Unless of course you’d rather be left alone as part of the recuperative process. Though speaking of judgment, I think it’s only fair that I point out that the only reason I’m doing this is because I thought there should be someone sober in the apartment, and at least for now Brady still accepts homework as an excuse to be in here instead of out there,” he indicated the door and the slightly muffled noises of the party on the other side of it.

    Jessica laughed, surprised by how easy it was, considering today was the day after the worst day of her life so far. “Dani said you were pre-law. Gotta say, so far you’re fitting the type. All right, Sam, let’s see what kind of taste in books you have.”

    Sam’s collection of novels was small, but it was also more than he’d ever owned all at once in his life. Over the summer something inside him had clicked, had accepted that this was going to be his life now, the kind of life where he could own more books than could fit in a duffel bag with clothes and toiletries, because he wasn’t going to be on the road all the time, no one was going to come and drag him away. He could use the bookshelves that came standard in campus housing, and eventually get his own place with his own shelves, and fill them full of books. So that’s what he’d started doing.

    “Damn,” Jessica said suddenly.

    “What?”

    “Well, I was really looking forward to judging you, but you’ve got obscure Tolkien works and female fantasy authors, not to mention a smattering of quality literary fiction, so I’m not sure I can.”

    “Sorry to ruin your fun with my good taste. Does The Silmarillion really count as obscure?”

    “I guess it depends on who you ask, but RoverandomandThe Tolkien Reader definitely do, so the point still stands.”

    “But … you think it’s a good thing?”

    “Please tell me I’m not the first nerd girl you’ve met.”

    “What? No! I don’t know,” he amended. “I guess I always assumed … guess I really should’ve known better,” he finished, leaving the thought incomplete. He wasn’t bringing up his family with a girl he’d just met, no matter how much he was hoping this wouldn’t be their last conversation.

    She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, that was nice and cryptic.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt: “But you shouldn’t have to discuss your ideological upbringing with some girl you just met at your roommate’s over-the-top party if you don’t want to. Hell, you don’t even have to keep talking to me at all. I know you said it was just an excuse, but the number of textbooks you have up there looks kind of dire.”

    It was his turn to laugh. “Actually, given that you came in here for some quiet, I’m surprised you’ve been so chatty. I don’t mind, I just thought … you know what? Never mind. I think I’ve made enough assumptions for the night.”

    She grinned appreciatively. “Nah, it’s a fair question. I really am a total extrovert. It’s just … something happened yesterday and I … well the truth is I’m still learning how I’m different because of it but the part where I get easily overwhelmed by random crap makes sense. I guess.” Her face had fallen and she’d gone quiet, her eyes dropping to the floor. She looked up again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emo on you.”

    “No problem. Crap happens. I don’t mind. You talking about it, I mean. Isn’t that what happens at parties? Strangers get overly emotional and tell each other their secrets?” He smiled. “I mean, in the movies there’s usually a lot of alcohol involved when that happens, but I’m OK with doing the responsible, legal version if that’s what you want. Whatever.”

    Suddenly she wanted to tell this cute boy with the long legs and the DIMPLES and the good taste in books about the completely shit weekend she was having, because why not? They’d never run into each other on campus before (she would remember) so it wasn’t like it would be hard to avoid him if she ended up regretting it. “My girlfriend dumped me yesterday.”

    “Oh, god, I’m sorry; that sucks,” he said, not missing a beat over the fact that she said “girlfriend”. “Or, I assume it sucks. I’ve never been in enough of a relationship for dumping to happen. It sounds like it sucks.”

    She smiled at that. “Yeah, sucks is the word. No, actually, sucks doesn’t even begin to cover it. But whatever, right?”

    “Doesn’t sound like whatever,” he said earnestly, and goddammit Jessica just wants to spill her guts to him and his cute puppy-dog face.

    “You’re gonna be an amazing lawyer.”

    “What?”

    “Well, you’re just sitting there not even saying much, just sitting there with your shaggy hair and, my god, I think you are the reason we have the expression ‘puppy-dog eyes,’ and you look all earnest and trustworthy and I am completely sober though maybe a lot sleep-deprived and I just want to tell you my whole frickin’ sob story.”

    “Um, sorry?” He looked confused, and that was even cuter.

    “Don’t be. I wasn’t accusing you of anything, not really. But I should probably head back out before I succumb, or Dani worries, or someone gets the rumor mill going, you know?”

    “If that’s what you want. The room’ll still be here if you decide you need another break.”

    “Thanks.” She hesitated by the door. “You know, we should really get together and talk Tolkien some time: you’re sure to be wrong on some point and I’m really kind of bitter about not having the chance to be properly judgmental of you about something.”

    He flashed his dimples again. “I think I’d like that.” He scribbled on a corner of a page of notes and ripped it off. “Email, IM, and cell number,” he said, handing it to her.

    “Cool, and thanks.”

    “For what?”

    “For, I don’t know, the hospitality? For not being a jerk about my emotional vomit, I guess.”

    He smiled sympathetically, then broadened it into a grin. “Hey, I’ll take emotional vomit over the real McCoy any day.”

    She grinned back and left to rejoin the party.

mrsbluebertgreggleson:

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quakerhobbit:

It takes a long time for your smile to come back.

I understand that, it’s hard for me to smile when you’re there and I’m here, and I don’t carry the burdens you do.

I wish I could’ve helped with those.

(But I did help, didn’t I? Please tell me I helped. Maybe it’s worth all this if you find your way back to your smile and never lose it again, and I’m part of the reason.)

…

Your smile comes back when you play a prank on your brother.

Jackass had it coming.

I think I see now why you love him so much. I think I could’ve forgiven him his wandering eyes eventually.

I know I could’ve helped you kick his ass at this prank thing.

Do you think he could’ve learned to look at my face and accept my place by your side?

Do you think we could’ve learned to be brother and sister?

Not that it matters now.

…

You smile again for Sarah, and I don’t know how to feel. Happy to see your smile, to see you trying and hoping and reaching out.

Sad because that life I hope you build, the one where you settle down and have a dog and a nice safe job where you get to use your big old brain to save the world, it was supposed to be with me, not with her or whatever other girl you meet someday.

I want you to be happy. I want you to smile and be loved and smile some more.

But I miss you.

Am I selfish? Is this wrong?

In the end it doesn’t matter, because I care more to see your smile than I do who puts it there.

…

You lost your smile again in a hospital room with a flat line.

I didn’t know my heart could shatter like that.

I hate your father for this and every little thing he ever did to take your smile away.

I hate him because I know you won’t.

You might have lost your smile, but never your goodness.

Never that.

…

Sam turn around look behind you he’s got a knife TURN AROUND!

…

“Sam?”

“Jess?”

…

I lost your smile today.

I know I should be happy for you.

But you’ve lost it, too.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

Your brother loves you, probably, but does he even notice that your smile is missing?

I’ll keep it safe for you.

Someone should.

peanutbutterandbananasandwichs:

SamJess Week - Day 2: Loss

The thing about loss is,

The thing no-one ever told you,

Because you can’t understand,

Not really,

Until it happens to you.

-

The thing about loss is,

It happens in pieces.

-

The first piece seems the hardest,

Because its so big,

The first piece is having half your soul ripped out,

Laid bare and cold,

Wrapped in ivory,

And presented back to you in an ebony box.

-

Or she would have been,

If there had been enough left.

-

But the first piece is so big that people see it,

Your brother places his hand on your shoulder,

Warm and reassuring,

And says,

‘I’m so sorry’

'I can’t imagine’

'It’ll get easier’

'It won’t hurt forever’

-

Youwant it to hurt forever,

You don’t want to forget.

-

But you do,

Piece, by piece, by piece.

-

The kisses that felt like sunshine,

The exact way light played upon her hair,

The smell of her as she held you tight,

The way your name sounded on her lips,

They no longer feel real,

Faded like some dream,

That slips through your fingers like sand upon wakening.

-

No-one sees you loose those pieces,

And you can’t tell him,

How your heart feels like its been poked full of little holes,

When he looks at you and wonders,

Why the smile suddenly slipped from your lips,

'I can’t remember if she kept the spoons in the left or the right drawer’

Doesn’t seem like enough of an answer.

-

But the one thing,

The one thing,

That you’ll never lose,

Is the way she made you feel,

Warm,

Loved,

Worthwhile,

Safe,

Free.

mrsbluebertgreggleson:

The questions were inevitable.

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submitted by Molly

this isn’t home dean, this is where we work

we just happen to live here

home number one was perfect not mine too precious for me to own

no-one told me how it creaked at night

guess it’s not my memory

and they rebuilt without us but left the foundation there to

crumble under my weight

 

home number two is not mine either

your music

your car

our home, according to Chuck Fucking Shurley,

and i know it, intimately,

a security blanket that smothers

a trap that i help rebuild

againagainagain for miles

 

home number three

cannot possibly be as sweet as i remember

nostalgia lies

cookies burn at 200 degrees houses burn at 593 degrees on average

gold melts at 1084 degrees

and i have forgotten what she smelled like before smoke

 

home number four

is in double vision

i can’t remember how old i am anymore

 

home number five was practical and frantic and understanding and fragile

there was a dog

 

home number six is warded and shielded and safe

and i cannot sleep

because there is one broken door

and my skin is unmarked

and this is not home

this

is

not

home 

samwinchesterforthewin:

This is for samjessweek. Today’s theme is “Home.”

Sam walked into the cluttered apartment, almost tripping over Jess’ shoes in the process. They had moved in two days ago but the stacks of boxes had yet to be unpacked.

“Jess?” Sam called out, moving through the maze of cardboard.

“Over here!” He heard to his left, behind two veryunsteady stacks of boxes. Jess was sitting on the floor in her bathrobe reading a magazine, looking as if she wasn’t surrounded by wobbling towers.

“Don’t you think we should maybe unpack?” he asked as he carefully sat down next to her.

“Maybe later.”

“Jess.”

“Okay, fine. We can start unpacking tomorrow. Now tell me what you think of this article.”

They spent the rest of the day poring over the travel magazine, but Sam woke Jess up bright and early Saturday morning. (“6 AM should not actually be considered morning, Sam!”) And they finally started unpacking.

It took all weekend, and extra help from Brady, but they finally had everything unpacked. Sam didn’t remember owning so many things, but he loved them all.

The way books were haphazardly strewn on open surfaces and the plants that Jess had gotten taking up the area by the window… Sam had never felt like he belonged somewhere more than he did then.

Just then, Jess walked into the living room, a giant box of popcorn in one hand and a Harry Potter movie in the other. After putting in the movie, she sat down next to Sam, making him laugh as she practically burrowed into his shoulder. They spent the movie alternating between popcorn fights, making jokes, and actually watching the TV.

Sam woke up the next morning to Jess sprawled out on top of him, blinking sleepily.

“Morning.” she said before sitting up.

“Morning.” he replied, and then, with matching looks of horror, they both whispered, “Psychology class.”

Soon they were both rushing around, grabbing books and clothes and coffee. Heading to the door behind Jess, Sam took one last look at the new apartment.

It was kind of small, and most of their furniture was second-hand, but Jess loved it and he realized he did too. Sam had finally found his home.  

quakerhobbit:

quakerhobbit:

Written for samjessweek. Today’s theme is “Home.”

June 2003

Sam wakes up when Brady stumbles in, loud and laughing and not alone, at 4 a.m. He groans and rolls over, burying his face in Jess’ hair in an attempt to drown out the noises that come through the too-thin walls after Brady’s bedroom door slams shut behind him and whatever girl he’s brought home this time. Jess stirs and rolls over to face Sam.

“Again?” she whispers. Sam nods miserably. “Sam, you need to talk to him. It’s your apartment, too; he needs to respect your needs.”

“I know, and I have,” Sam whispers back. “It’s just … he’s got problems, you know?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give him the right to act like this. You should really think about—”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam interrupts. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, feeling her tense up. “Just tired and grumpy.” He reaches out to put an arm around her.

There’s a particularly loud moan from Brady’s room. Jess reaches for one of the extra pillows and throws it over her and Sam’s heads while swearing eloquently under her breath. They snuggle close and try to go back to sleep, but only manage to doze off and on for the next couple of hours before they give up and go for a run.

“So did you talk to him?” Jess asks when they meet for lunch after her morning class and Sam’s morning shift.

“Yeah,” he says, stirring his salad.

“And?”

“He’s really sorry,” Sam admits, avoiding her eyes, “and he promises to be quieter next time.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” she growls, throwing down her sandwich in frustration.

Sam smiles. “If I thought it would make a difference, I’d let you.”

Jess smiles ruefully back.

“Hey! If it isn’t my favorite roommate and his gorgeous girlfriend!” rings out across the cafeteria.

“Self control is a virtue,” Sam mutters to Jess, who kicks him lightly under the table, as Brady bangs his tray down and joins their table without being asked.

“Listen, Jessica, I really am sorry about last night,” he says, pulling down his sunglasses to make brief eye contact with her. “I was just so wasted, I didn’t realize how loud we were when we came in, and, well, when the ladies love me, they really love me, you know?”

Sam reaches out, grabs Brady’s sunglasses off his face, and smacks the back of his head.

“Hey, man, not cool!” Brady protests as Sam tosses the sunglasses to Jess, who makes a great show of wiping them down with her napkin before putting them on and pushing them back into her hair.

“What can I say, Brady? When I look good in sunglasses, I really look good, you know?” Jess deadpans.

Brady picks up his hamburger, takes a huge bite, and chews with his mouth open while Sam and Jess make faces and protest loudly, then proceed to steal as many of his french fries as they can before he can put down his burger and fend them off. Then they all start laughing, and it’s all any of them can do not to spew half-chewed burger and fries all over each other, but in the end they manage it.

Zach, Becky, Dani, Katie, and Zoe soon join them, and they all give Brady shit about his late night, and then move on to the usual topics of conversation: class and homework and jobs and pop culture and summer plans. Brady reclaims his sunglasses before he leaves, ducking out early because he sees someone he’s trying to avoid, or so he claims.

“You staying over the summer again, Sam?” Zach asks.

“That’s the plan,” Sam tells him.

“With Brady?” Becky asks skeptically.

“I, uh, I mean … ” Sam trails off, avoiding all their eyes.

“Sam, you promised me you’d walk me to that thing I have, and we’ll be late if we don’t go now,” Jess says into the silence.

“Oh, right! Wow, where did the time go?” Sam says, jumping up and grabbing his tray.

“Thanks,” me murmurs to Jess once they’re out of earshot of their table.

“No problem. But we should really talk about it later.”

“Yeah, I … I know.”

A few days later, they’re studying in Jess’ room when Dani comes in and says “How much do you love me?”

“So, so much,” Sam says, not looking up from his book.

“And you, roomie?” Dani asks imperiously.

“Test. Tomorrow. Studying,” is all Jess says in response.

Dani blows a raspberry. “Fine, then I won’t tell you about the one-bedroom apartment near campus that’s going to be available as soon as the semester’s over, isn’t gross, and has very reasonable rent,” zie says.

Sam puts down his book and sits up from where he was laying with his head in Jess’ lap; Jess sets down her notes and says, “OK, you have our attention. Brat.”

Dani smirks. “Apparently the previous tenant thought they were staying for the summer, but someone dropped out of a killer internship that she was the runner-up for, so now she’s leaving after all and wants to sub-let the apartment for the summer, and I have her contact information,” zie says, pulling out a piece of paper and holding it out.

Sam takes it. “Listen, Dani, I really appreciate this, but I don’t know whether I’ll be able to afford a place on my own, and everyone except Brady—” Dani is staring at him. Or rather, zie is staring from Jess to him and back again. Sam gets the distinct feeling that he’s missing something.

“Jessica!” Dani practically screeches.

Jess throws her pillow at Dani. “How many times have I told you not to hold me responsible for things I say at two in the morning!”

“A lot, but that wasn’t the only time you said it!”

“Or before I have caffeine in the morning!”

“Still not the only time,” Dani says, folding zir arms triumphantly.

Jess glares.

“Tell you what,” Dani says, “I’m gonna go get myself a mocha, because I deserve a treat for being an awesome friend. And that way you two can … study … in peace.” Xie grabbed xir purse and left, grinning.

Jess groans and let her head flop back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

“So … what was that about?” Sam ventures.

“My roommate being the most interfering busybody of all time.”

“Well, yeah, but, I got the distinct impression that this time it’s connected to my housing situation. So …?”

Jess is blushing furiously. “I don’t know, I was venting about Brady and how that living situation just isn’t good for you any more, but that you needed a roommate, and Dani said, umm, xie said … xie said that I should move in with you, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. And I pointed out that we’d only been dating for a few months, but then xie said that we’re practically living together already, we’re at each other’s places so often, and, I don’t know, I was tired, and I thought xie was kind of making sense, but—”

“Jess,” Sam finally finds his voice, having been struck dumb when Jess mentioned the possibility of them living together. “Do … do you want to move in together?” He’s looking at her earnestly, feeling a mixture of terror and hope he doesn’t want to decipher just yet.

"I … ,” she glances down at her lap, twisting her hands together, then meets his eyes when she says, “Kinda, yeah.”

He lets out the breath he hadn’t meant to hold. “And … would you still want to even if the situation with Brady was different?” That’s important, he thinks: they shouldn’t do this just because it would be convenient for him.

“I don’t know if I can answer that. Would I have brought it up? Probably not. Would I have still wanted to, still thought about how we were ready, we could do it, and how nice it would be for you to be the first person I saw every morning and the last person I saw every night? Would I still have hated one of us having to leave to go somewhere else most nights? Yeah, I think so.”

He kisses her then, because he loves her so much and she says the most incredible things and he still can’t believe that she loves him, too.

“Won’t your parents think we’re being young and stupid?” he asks when they break apart.

Jess’ eyes widen when she realizes what he means. “Maybe, but there’s no one I’d rather be young and stupid with than you.”

“So I guess I’d better call the number Dani gave me before the apartment gets snatched up by someone else.”

“Yeah, I guess you better had.”

The school year ends in the usual whirlwind of papers, projects, tests, stress, sleeplessness, junk food, and frenzied packing. And once the metaphorical dust settles, Sam and Jess are standing in their apartment, surrounded by hastily-packed boxes full of things that need to be mingled and organized.

Their apartment. The combination of terror, hope, and how giddiness that Sam has been experiencing ever since Jess suggested that they live together hasn’t gone away, but he’s getting used to it, and he thinks he understands it now: it’s because he loves her so much, and he doesn’t want to screw this up.

They both have full-time on-campus jobs for the summer, and they make themselves spend the first week unpacking and organizing, telling themselves that if they get everything done, then they can follow through on their plans for Saturday.

Since they’re both stubborn and tenacious and goal-oriented, by Saturday the apartment looks like … a home. Jess has more stuff than Sam, but what little he has is integrated with hers: the books on the shelf, the dishes in the cupboards, the coats and sweatshirts in the closet.

So on Saturday, they sleep late, and after breakfast, Jess makes a huge batch of cookie dough, and Sam makes a double batch of pizza dough. Once the pizza dough is kneaded and set aside to rise, and the first batch of cookies is out of the oven, they take the warm cookies, the bowl of unbaked cookie dough, and large glasses of milk into the living room.

“You ready for this?” Sam asks as they settle onto the couch.

“For finally being able to watch all three Lord of the Rings movies in one day? Baby, I was born ready,” Jess says, reaching for a cookie.

Sam puts his arm around her and presses play. “So, home sweet home?” he asks.

"Home sweet home,” she agrees, and shoves a cookie in his mouth as the movie’s signature foreboding violin music begins to play.

peanutbutterandbananasandwichs:

SamJess Week Day 1: Home

They say heaven is made of memories. Your “greatest hits”, all the best moments your life had to offer. But in truth, it’s more complicated than that. For heaven is not the construct of man, but of God, of angels, of creatures whose concepts of time and reality are rather more fluid than most.

Not everyone finds them, the other memories, the one’s that shimmer, flicker, flitting in and out, just on the edge of sight. Children usually find them first, the one’s for whom there are the fewest memories on which to build their heavens’. For them the flickering lights and whispered voices are brighter and louder.

It takes Jess a little longer. The first time she notices them she’s laying in bed with Sam, curled up in his lap, Sam’s fingers running idly through her hair. The sunlight filters through the window, soft and warm, making her skin hum and casting a light around him that seems almost ethereal. There’s not a sound but the sighs of their breathing, as their chests rise and fall in perfect harmony and the occasional flick of a page turning in their respective books. Or at least there shouldn’t have been. Jess has lived this memory a thousand times, she knows every intimate detail, the way the shadows and light play across Sam’s face, highlighting his cheekbones, the shimmer in his eyes when he glances down at her and the way his dimples flash and forehead crinkles just so when he catches her glancing up at him. But she can hear something. It’s faint, like a sound half forgotten, but she listens intently straining to make out the noise. Laughter. Bright and sweet and full of life.

Jess rises from the bed, Sam continues to read, hand moving through hair that is no longer there. She looks towards the door. For a second she sees her, the little girl with golden hair and eyes like sunflowers, she peeks her head round the door frame, giggling, all too familiar dimples creasing her checks. She shimmers, insubstantial as smoke, flickers and is gone. Jess glances back at Sam, he hasn’t moved, of course he’s not really there, just an echo, caught in an endless loop. She steps through the door.

At first it’s like walking through mist and the brightest white sunlight, nothing has clear form, but she can make out shapes moving in the distance and hear the muffled voices of a thousand conversations all around her. She catches a flash of long, blonde tresses and a sound louder, more distinct than the others “come on mommy!” The little face turns back to her, smile bright as the sun and she stops, waits for Jess to come to her. Jess approaches, staring in wonderment, she knows that smile, those eyes and the gentle earnestness in her voice. A small, chubby hand is extended out toward her, Jess takes it and suddenly it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

The girl turns back, leading Jess through the mist, she’s solid now and firm, no longer the dancing, flickering thing of light and smoke. There’s a door ahead. Jess hesitates for a moment, then pushes it gently. There’s a room on the other side, she looks around. There is her mother’s old sofa she promised to her for when they got a real place of their own, it was worn and slightly threadbare, but nothing was more comfortable for cuddling up with a book and a hot mug of tea. And that’s the bookshelf they’d spotted in the charity shop and had been planning on buying, they’d run out of space in their old one and even if they hadn’t, it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, tall and slender, warm beechwood and the little dragons carved into the corners. And there’s a dog, curled up asleep on the rug in the centre of the room, she’s never seen it before, but she’d recognise her anywhere, they’d talked about her every day for a month, imagined what she’d be like and she was there. The little hand wriggles out of hers and there is a blur of movement as the tiny form darts forward, exclaiming “daddy!” as she throws herself into the arms of the tall, dark haired man who’d been resting against the wall by the door to the kitchen. He spins her, twirling her through the air, matching dimpled grins breaking across both their faces. He turns to face her.

Years later, she’s sitting, waiting on the wall outside the their favourite coffee shop on campus, the sunlight playing in her hair. She knows he’s coming, and this time, it’s for real, there’s no going back. No-one left to wrench him away.

Jess hears the sound of slow padding footsteps behind her, she turns. She knows that face, there are more lines, a couple of small scars she’s never seen, a few more grey hairs at the temple, the eyes are sadder, than the one’s she knows. She can fix that.

He runs to her, cradles her face for a moment, thumb running gently over her cheek, small smile of wonderment and adoration, some things never changed. And then their lips meet and it’s soft, loving, passionate and searing all at once. They finally pull back, resting their foreheads lightly together, Jess links her fingers through his.

She turns, leading him back toward the doorway. He stops, looking down at her “where are we going?” Jess smiles up at him, “Sam, I’m taking you home.”

quakerhobbit:)