hoodie_time | Challenge 2: A Dean-focused SCHMOOPFEST! (fic and/or art accepted) / GENERAL INFO & RULES

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Challenge 2: A Dean-focused SCHMOOPFEST! (fic and/or art accepted) / GENERAL INFO & RULES

A Dean-focused
SCHMOOPFEST!

PIMP IT!

The Basics:

I think we could all use a little schmoop this hiatus! So, for the month of June, from today up to and including June 30th, I challenge you to write a fic or create a piece of art featuring one (or more, if you’re extra-crafty) of the following schmoopy prompts - with Dean as the one getting all schmooped up, of course.

Schmoop is the name of the game, so your fic/art does not have to include sick!Dean or any kind of hurt/comfort - it’s optional. (Albeit extremely awesome.)

This is a very easygoing challenge, and is done a bit differently than our other challenges in that you can participate anonymously if you'd prefer. I know some people are embarrassed by their schmoopy tendencies. ;D Whatever for, I do not know.

Schedule:

Posting period

June 1st through to June 30th, submissions to be linked or posted right here in this post
(+ directly to the comm if you'd like!)

Prompts:

Prompt #1: hugs/cuddling

Prompt #2: bed-sharing

Prompt #3: Dean wearing Sam’s hoodie!

Prompt #4: clothes-sharing (i.e.; Dean wearing Castiel’s trenchcoat, pre-series fic with Dean wearing daddy Winchester’s leather coat, or any other variation of clothes-sharing you can think of.)

How this is going to work:

Before we get started: Anonymous posting is enabled and IP tracking is off in case you’re embarrassed by your schmoopy tendencies. Seriously, feel free to be RIDICULOUSLY schmoopy – it’s good for you.

01. There's no need to sign up for this challenge. If you choose to participate, you will have the month of June to write/create art for any of the above schmoopy prompts. Your fics may be full-length or comment-fic length. You can comment to this post with a link to your submission on your journal, or you can comment to this post with your submission in the comments the way you would a comment-fic. If you go longer than one comment, you can reply to your original comment until you have finished posting. And if you choose to post your submission to the comm at any time, that’s great too. Please see what tags are suitable to use in the FAQ, below.

02. People can follow this post and give you love.

03. At the beginning of next month I’ll make a new post with the hopefully schmoop-filled masterlist!

Posting:

All I ask is that when you comment to this post with your fic/art/whatever, you put your title, (if you have one) what prompt you chose, the genre/pairing; e.g.; gen or Sam/Dean, etc., and spoilers (if applicable) in your subject line - or, if there isn't enough room, in the first line of your comment. Please make sure anything porny is clearly marked as such as well, and adhere to LJ's TOS when posting images.

See guideline #1 for more info on posting.

FAQ:

Here are the answers to some questions you may have about the challenge (including a definition of schmoop if anyone is unclear on that.) Feel free to PM me or e-mail me at hoodietime [at] gmail [dot] com if you have any others.

--> Schmoop is generally categorized as fic/art with minimal angst, the kind that gives you that “awwww” feeling. But no worries - nothing will be turned away for not being schmoopy enough or whatever. I know a prompt can run away with a writer and I think it’s great when it does. So angst is fine as well as pure angstless fluff, but as a general rule the comfort should overwhelm the angst in the end.

--> No, your fic/art for this challenge does not have to include sick!Dean or any kind of hurt/comfort, although it would certainly be appreciated.

--> All genres and pairings are loved and accepted here, however this is not an RPF comm. Fictional characters only, please.

--> Fics can be as short or as long as you’d like, and WIPS are fine.

--> Yes, any type of art that fits a prompt is awesome also. Drawings, icons, picspams, etc. - it's all good!

--> You can submit as many entries as you want.

--> As I said above, anonymous posting is enabled and IP tracking is off, so don’t be scared to be as schmoopy as possible!

--> There will be no extensions for this challenge. Entries are due anytime up to and including June 30th. If your submission is posted/linked in the comments to this post by June 30th, you can use the .challenge 2 tag whenever you post, before of after the challenge is over. If you write any fics/have art for this challenge after that date, it won’t be part of the masterlist, but please use our new .amnesty tag and post it to the comm anyway. We’d LOVE to see it whenever!

Okay! Let’s whip up some schmoop!

ETA: The schmoopfest masterlist is now up HERE. Check it out!

➽ This post was compiled by

maypoles and is posted under this account for organizational purposes.

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I think I fixed it....Thanx for the heads up. =), and the nice comment. It would be the best curse ever, right?

Yep, it's fixed. ;)

Awww, this really breaks my heart. The fact that Dean didn't 'feel like speaking' early after the fire isn't mentioned often enough in fics, I think, sometimes even outrightly dismissed. And I truly think it shows so much better than anything how much the event shook him.

You did wonderful with this little fact, with a great, loving and shaken John. *Hugs you*

Heee, what a fun-cures. Really, much better than turning into a woman or a dog ;-)

Agreed! Dean + Sam + Snuggles = Win!

There's no need to sign up is there? We just write and post?

Awesome. I love this curse!

So sweeeeet. I love that Sam's kept it around because he knows. It's the little things that matter with them. ♥

Thank you. It would be an amazing curse, right? Think we could convince the show's writers? lol

Yep, no sign-ups! ;)

You're welcome and thank YOU for the nice comment. John calling wee Dean, "baby" is just all kinds of sweet. So glad you enjoyed!

Wow, thank you! I'm smiling so hard at this comment! Dean not talking is canon, right out of his own mouth in DITW. And non-talking wee!Dean has such possibilities in a fic, especially with John. I'm so glad you enjoyed and thank you again for such a fantastic comment!

*HUGS YOU BACK*

OKAY... After arguing with LJ for half an hour trying to break this story up into comments, I gave up and just put it on my journal. I tried, I really tried to keep the angst out of this one, but it's pretty angsty for a schmoop meme. And it's not terribly schmoopy... but it's the best I can do, cuz I'm just not schmoopy, now matter how bad I wanna be. Anyways, I'll shut up now.

Summary: At nine years old, Sam realized he had never seen Dean sleep.

To the Schmoop! (http://shyriann.livejournal.com/34725.html#cutid1)

"I feel all warm and fuzzy inside!" Yay! The schmoop, it has done it's job! Glad you enjoyed and thanks for taking the time to comment!

Thank you! Somehow crying over a receipt/shopping list is very Dean to me, so I'm really glad it worked for you.

So if the definition of schmoop is a story that makes you go "awww..." then this should be put in the dictionary right under the entry, casue I totslly just "awww'ed" out loud.

This is for all you de-aged!Dean loving people!

Dean had decided Sam and Bobby were enjoying this whole thing a bit too much. Once they’d figured out it was only temporary, (although not temporary enough - three months, goddamn it) the novelty of Dean being a cute-as-fuck four-year-old had taken over and then it was the non-stop teasing and the hair ruffling, and Jesus, if Sammy tried to pick him up and put him on his shoulders one more time Dean was seriously gonna go feral child on his ass.

And now he was pretty sure he was getting sick. Dean pretty much never got sick, not sick enough to call off a hunt, anyway. But he used to get sick a lot as a kid, (much to dad’s frustration) and Winchester luck being what it was, it made sense that he was right back where he didn’t want to be.

“You all right there, Dean?” Bobby said. He was looking at Dean appraisingly from across their table at the diner. They’d just finished picking up some car parts during which Bobby had actually told him to “watch your language” around people, and now the son of a bitch was trying to win him back over with food.

Well, it wasn’t going to work. Dean looked back at him. Bobby said, “That cheeseburger ain’t gonna eat itself, you know.”

“Next you’ll be telling me your money doesn’t grow on trees, old man,” Dean said.

“Eat up,” Bobby ordered him.

“Bossy, bossy,” Dean muttered and picked up his ridiculously small kiddie meal burger and tried to finish it, but he just couldn’t. He was tired all of the sudden, and it tasted burnt.

He threw up in the gravel parking lot and it tasted burnt coming back up too.

Bobby said, “Aw, kid,” and pat-patted him on the back, and Dean was too busy heaving his guts up to shrug him off. Then Bobby tried picking him up and that was really too much, so Dean pulled on what was left of Bobby’s hair.

“Jesus, Dean!” Bobby said, holding Dean out at arm’s length and carrying him to the car like he was a bomb.

Inside the car, Bobby got him a bag to heave into if he had to and put his too-big trucker’s cap on top of Dean’s head. “Keep the sun out of your eyes,” he explained.

“Awesome,” Dean croaked.

Sam was up on a ladder cleaning out the gutters when they got back to Singer’s Salvage, but he came down when he saw them rolling down the driveway. “What’s up?” he wanted to know, as Bobby risked being kicked in the knee-caps by helping Dean out of the car.

“Lemme alone,” Dean heard himself say, ashamed by the almost whining quality of his voice.

He climbed painstakingly out of the car by himself and immediately burst into a round of coughing. Even he had to admit it was a pretty pathetic moment. He sounded like a mix between a ninety year old man and one of Bobby’s dog’s squeaky toys.

“He’s sick,” Bobby said dryly.

Sam looked overly alarmed. “Dean?”

“What,” Dean said. He didn’t say it like a question. He was done with this conversation, them always looking at him, studying him. He’d always hated that shit, but it was worse since he’d been like this, because that was all they did. Sam even watched him brush his teeth before bed, like he thought Dean was going to fall and choke on his toothbrush just because he was miniature now. They bought him mini-me food and watched him eat it. Sometimes Bobby went on hunts without them, the lucky bastard, and Sam didn’t even go with him. He trusted Bobby to hold his own more than he trusted Dean to brush his freaking teeth all by his lonesome. Not that his brother had said that, but Dean wasn’t born yesterday. All visual evidence to the contrary.

Sam sighed at him. “C’mere, jerkface,” he said. Then he picked him up.

“Watch the merchandise,” Bobby warned.

“Him or me?” Sam said, jerking his head back and away from Dean’s useless flying fists. “Geez. Hey. Are you throwing a tantrum right now?”

Dean settled down in his brother’s stupidly huge arms, mostly because he thought he was might puke again if he kept it up, which he really didn’t feel like doing. “Shut up,” he said. “I’m not.”

“Dude, you totally are.”

“No, I’m not,” Dean said.

“Yes, you are,” Sam said.

Dean glared at him. “You used to play that stupid game when you were a kid, Sam. Stoppit.”

“You stop it,” Sam said. He was grinning now, really fucking pleased with himself.

“I’ll throw up on you,” Dean told him. “I swear I will.”

Sam’s smile faded a little. He cupped one big hand over Dean’s forehead. “Damn it,” he said. “You’re really warm. Shit. I mean, how do you feel?”

“What do you think,” Dean said. “I’m being manhandled by a giant.”

Sam carried him into the house and plunked him down on the sofa. “This isn’t like getting sick when you’re yourself, Dean. You’re-“

“I am myself,” Dean said. “Why don’t you guys get that?”

Sam sat on the coffee table in front of him. Bobby stood by the door. They were both watching him again with this unnameable look on their faces, a look he’d put there. He hated this.

“I know, man,” Sam said, quiet. “I was just going to say, you’re going to have to tell me what’s wrong with you, let me take care of you a little. You can’t just- do what you usually do.”

“Which is?”

“The opposite of that,” Sam said.

Dean studied his knees for awhile. “You wanna help, you can get me the remote control,” he said finally. “Bitch.”

Sam sighed again, but snagged it for him. “What about some ginger ale?” he said hopefully. “You want some ginger ale?”

And Dean wasn’t really thirsty, didn’t really want anything except for this to be over, but he said, “Okay.”

In the darkest part of the night, Sam checked Dean’s temperature with the back of his hand. Dean’s forehead was hot and dry; he was getting worse. It had been little more than a low-grade fever when he’d gone to bed, but Sam hadn’t been able to relax since. He knew next to nothing about little kids, and Dean was just so unbelievably small. Sam couldn’t remember him being this size, this age, (god, the age he was when mom died) this helpless. It made Sam feel small, too.

Dean stirred. He’d always woken up whenever Sam stared at him while he was sleeping, their whole lives. Said he could feel that shit in his sleep. “Whazzit?” Dean slurred.

“Nothin’,” Sam said, patting Dean once on the shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“Kay,” Dean said, and curled up into a tiny ball that put an ache in the pit of Sam’s stomach.

Sam went back to his own bed, laid down on top of all of the covers. At some point he must have fallen asleep because the next time he was aware of anything it was starting to get light out and Dean was trying to push himself up with wobbly arms, not having much luck. Sam reached him just as he threw up all over himself.

“Crap,” Sam said, quickly picking Dean up and sitting him down on the other, cleaner side of the bed. Dean squirmed half-heartedly in his arms before giving up all at once. When Sam put him down, he listed to his side and curled back up into his tiny, kittenish ball. Sam hovered over him worriedly. “You okay? Hey, Dean.”

“I threw up,” Dean murmured, blinked a few bleary blinks.

“Yeah,” Sam said, watching him. “I know. You think you’re gonna do it again?”

Dean shook his head, slow. “Feel better now,” he said.

“I bet,” Sam said. “C’mere. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

“Hmm,” Dean said, and didn’t move, and blinked up at Sam some more. After a moment, Sam realized he was waiting to be picked up, the first time he hadn’t put up a token protest over such a indignity. Frowning, Sam picked him up and carried him to the bathroom. Dean was like a little furnace pressed up against him, but when Sam set him down on the closed toilet seat, he shivered spasmodically. And immediately sneezed, three times. And then something happened that took Sam’s brain another few seconds to catch up to.

De-aged Dean for the win! I love tiny Dean when he's still himself. And the image of him curled up in a sick little ball like a kitten is just hitting me right in the heart. And I love, love Sam taking care of Dean. Though if Dean can wrap his arms around Sam's neck and waist at the same time, maybe he really is an alien!

Thanks! Oh, wow, lol. And I re-read it and edited it a few times too. This is why having a beta is always a good idea, self!

You're welcome! I hate finding mistakes in my comment fics because you can't just go back in and change them. At least if you can, I don't know how!

(Hey mod, could you link this version of the last part of my fic when you put together the masterlist? I had one mistake in the other version that was really bugging me.)

Dean’s face- it just crumpled, and he started to cry. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, off the bottom of his chin.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Sam said when he could speak again, dropping to his knees. “Dean, man, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Stop looking at me like I’m an ALIEN,” Dean said, warbling so badly that Sam could just barely make him out.

“What?” Sam said. “I’m not- I’m not looking at you like you’re- an alien. What the hell are you talking about? Huh? Dean.”

Dean was mostly silent with the crying, like always, but every once and awhile he’d let out a gaspy little sob. He wouldn’t say anything else. Sam wiped Dean’s face down with a washcloth, rubbed a few tears away with his thumb. Dean’s skin was much too hot, the bones of his jaw horribly delicate under Sam’s touch.

“Okay,” Sam said, feeling off-kilter. “Okay, look, this is just the fever talking. You’re just a little too overheated right now, but we’re gonna fix you right up. Okay?”

Dean snuffle-cried into his shirtsleeve. His hair was plastered to his head on one side and his face was pink and splotchy, like a newborn’s. Sam was halfway to standing, on his way to get the children’s Tylenol, when he fell back onto his knees and impulsively grabbed onto Dean, drew him in and clutched him tight to his chest. He hadn’t hugged Dean like this since they were both kids.

And Dean – Dean had never hugged him like this.

After a single moment of resistance, Dean's little arms wound around Sam's neck and his little legs wound around his waist and his warm, damp face pressed so hard into Sam's neck it was like it was melded there. And he cried. Said some things too, but most of it was incomprehensible.

A sudden coughing fit jarred him out of it a little. “Sammy?” he said, in a dreamy, half-gone voice. “Am I myself now?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam said roughly, holding his brother as tight as he could. “You’re you.”

I think you can only edit your comments if you have a paid account. :(

Hee! Even though I've got a ton of projects on the go, I am working on something! Damn my having to go to the job that doesn't allow me to play on my laptop! My other job DOES allow me to have the laptop.

YAY Schmoop!! No promises that it will be overly schmoopy, but it does feature a hurt!Dean and some schmoop.

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Page 4 of 7

Challenge 2: A Dean-focused SCHMOOPFEST! (fic and/or art accepted) / GENERAL INFO & RULES

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no subject