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    Summary

    There are noises in the cosmic grapevine about three women in Savannah, about prophesy and oracle and older gods than even they know the words for, and Dean hears about it from a waitress at the counter of a diner off the side of a North Carolina freeway.

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  2. 03 Sep 2020

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  3. 02 Sep 2020

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  4. 24 Aug 2020

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  5. 03 Aug 2020

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  6. 15 Jul 2020

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  7. 10 Jul 2020

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  8. 01 Jul 2020

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  9. 29 Jun 2020

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  10. 23 Jun 2020

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  11. 26 May 2020

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  12. 22 May 2020

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    Bookmark Notes:

    Great Gen (in as much as their codependent asses were ever gen, and there are implications...) on-the-road traveling story (early years), Sam POV, focusing on the diners and roads and thoughts and conversation and remembrances of college rather than any particular case (though they are there in the background, and there's a whole oracle thing). As always Pru is a master storyteller, each scene and OC is completely visible in your minds eye, and the story is chock full of great headcanon.

    *************
    "Dude, cut it out," Dean says suddenly and hits Sam, rough and with knuckles into Sam's collarbone, where it will leave a mark and maximize pain.

    "Ow, fuck!" Sam yells and scowls, rubbing his chest. "What the fuck?"

    Dean glares. "Seriously, Sam? I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. If there's something going on, just talk about it."

    "I thought you said no chick flick moments," Sam says disagreeably.

    He doesn't think he can ever talk to Dean about Jess, about how he feels not having her. It's not that Dean wouldn't understand, it's that Dean has been telling Sam his whole life why he and Dad burned like this, killing themselves to kill the thing that got Mom, and Sam has always thought they were the biggest motherfucking morons on the face of the Earth. He can't think of anything worse than saying to Dean, "Okay, I get it now. Finally, I get it now," because there's no apology large enough to make Dean understand that Sam has learned, that Sam knows now, that he's sorry he fought them when this was what they were fighting inside their own heads.

    "Any chick flick moment can automatically be referenced by a manly cock joke or frequent use of the word 'fuck' or 'nuts,'" Dean explains. "Go."

    "I was thinking how fucking nuts you are," Sam tells him facetiously.

    Dean scowls. "Nastiest truck stop we see—I'm peddling your ass for gas money."

    And if Jessica was an additional detail, then Dean is a hanging clause, a half-finished thought dissolved by ellipses before the punch line. Sam knows Dean better than anybody and it makes Sam's head hurt to think about Dean, wrapped up in layer after layer of secrets.

  13. 14 May 2020

    Rec

  14. 05 May 2020

    Rec

  15. 02 May 2020

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  16. 30 Apr 2020

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  17. 25 Apr 2020

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  18. 24 Apr 2020

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  19. 24 Apr 2020

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  20. 20 Apr 2020

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  21. 18 Apr 2020

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    Bookmark Notes:

    Sweet nostalgic on the road bittersweet ending awesome author

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