Hellcat's Lair

✨ RAIN ✨ 

and is a re-run from our very first word game back in 2020!

--

After they finished the salt and burn, Sam and Dean packed their stuff and hit the road. They didn’t have a particular destination in mind. There was no new case on the radar. For now, they were content to just drive. They both felt more at ease when they were in motion.

As the miles passed, Sam stared out the window, apparently lost in thought. From time to time, Dean glanced at him but didn’t attempt to break the silence. He wondered what was on Sam’s mind, but after more than two years together, he was familiar with his brother’s moods. When Sam sank this deeply into himself, he wouldn’t talk until he was ready. Dean returned his attention to the road and resigned himself to the silence.

A few rain droplets plinked onto the windshield, and before Dean had time to react, sheets of water began pouring from the slate-gray clouds. He cursed under his breath and hit the wipers.

✨ movement ✨ 

--

Crystal shimmied and undulated in time to the music, her movements graceful and fluid. She slowly, teasingly, drew closer to Sam until he could almost touch her. But he knew the rule. No touching.

Sam looked her over from head to toe, taking note of every detail. He admired her muscle tone, especially in her legs. No doubt she spent hours in the gym. He wondered what her workout routine was like. Did she use the treadmill, or an exercise bike? Maybe some yoga, to stay limber?

Abruptly he cut off this train of thought. What the hell was wrong with him? A hot stripper was giving him a private dance, and he wasn’t the least bit turned on. Instead, he was treating her the same way a racehorse trainer evaluated a champion Thoroughbred: detached and analytical, completely without passion.

He glanced at Dean. His brother sat back on the couch, grinning, head bobbing along with the music as he watched Crystal. He was having a great time.

Sam’s gaze traveled lower, to Dean’s crotch. Oh, yeah, Dean was definitely enjoying himself.

✨ SECRET ✨ 

--

Sam gritted his teeth against the urge to cry. Why would Jack send him to Hell? He was family, damn it! That alone should have earned Sam a first class ticket upstairs. What changed?

Maybe he learned the truth about me.

As awful as that sounded, the idea made sense. Jack hadn’t been around for the more…interesting parts of Sam’s life. Did he know that Sam had been contaminated with demon blood as a baby? And that was just for starters.

Sam pictured all his shameful secrets contained in a thick file folder. He imagined Jack sitting down and reading that file, growing increasingly shocked and disgusted. And there was a lot of shocking stuff. Ruby and his demon blood addiction. The part he’d played in letting Lucifer out of his cage and starting the Apocalypse. And the cherry on top: his role as Lucifer’s vessel.

✨ FLOOD ✨ 

--

Sam cried out and fell to the floor. He shuddered and moaned, his limbs jerking in helpless spasms. The interview room vanished, and for a moment he was lost in a nowhere space, flailing helplessly as panic flooded his senses. Then a new scene took shape around him, and he could breathe again.

Now he was in a brightly lit kitchen, where a table had been set for three. An overturned bottle of Dr. Pepper leaked onto the flowery oilcloth. The puddle of soda grew quickly until it spilled over the table’s edge, droplets falling to the floor with a steady drip, drip, drip sound.

A gasp, followed by a soft whimper. Sam turned his head, tracking the noise, and saw Katie Coleman lying supine on the floor.

She stared up at him, one arm raised in a warding-off gesture. Her eyes were wide, terrified. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Please,” she whispered.

Sam stared at her as if she were a bug struggling in a puddle, and then he laughed. It was a harsh sound, full of contempt.

“What is it?” Chief Pruitt’s voice seemed to come from the other end of a long hallway. “Sam? What’s happening?”

✨ TYPE ✨

--

“I know what you’re thinking, Dean,” said Snodgrass.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that.”

Snodgrass chuckled. “Look at you. Trying to act so tough. But I see right through you.”

Dean scoffed and shook his head.

“Sure, go ahead and laugh.” Snodgrass made a little dismissive wave. “You don’t fool me. I’ve been teaching for almost twenty years, and I know how to read people. I had you pegged the second you walked in the room.”

“Is that so?” Dean sounded bored.

“Oh, absolutely. You’re the type of guy who comes in with guns blazing, all set to save the damsel in distress.”

He glanced at Sam, and Sam recoiled from the raw need in the teacher’s eyes. Dean saw it too, and his jaw clenched.

✨ EARTH ✨ 

--

Dean stopped halfway across the bridge and got out of the car. His body felt young and strong again, free from the aches and pains that had settled into his joints during his later years. He strolled to the railing and leaned against it, looking down at the water gurgling in the river below.

A gentle breeze stirred his hair, and the warm sunshine caressed his face. It was a perfect day. The only thing missing was —

Sam.

It wasn’t a spoken word; it wasn’t a sound at all. It was more like a quickening in his blood, a sudden knowledge that shot jolts of electricity through his veins. Dean caught his breath, looking around. Excitement kindled in the pit of his stomach. His fingers gripped the railing. He shivered all over, his arms marbled in goosebumps.

He wanted to whoop and shout at the top of his lungs, but he could only manage a whisper: “Sam’s coming.”

✨ KIND ✨ 

--

Yes, Sam took care of himself. But he didn’t do it to draw other people’s attention. He did it strictly for his own wellbeing. His body truly was his temple. A temple where no one had worshipped for a long time.

Lord knew there was plenty to worship. The silky, shiny hair, the cute little mole near his nose, those ever-changing kaleidoscope eyes… and that was just from the neck up. The rest of Sam’s body was equally impressive. He wasn’t as jacked as he used to be, but there was still plenty of strength in those broad shoulders and those long, lean legs.

Dean blinked hard and shook his head. Shit, what the hell was he doing? He was in a titty bar, surrounded by hot chicks, every one of whom was a walking wet dream, and he’d barely paid attention to them all night. He was too busy thinking about his brother.

What kind of weirdo am I?

✨ narrow ✨

--

“Dean, I think we need to talk about what happened tonight.”

“Actually, we don’t need to talk about it,” said Dean. “Remember what Crystal said? What happens in the VIP room, stays in the VIP room.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What if I don’t want it to stay there?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t I get a say? Or are you just gonna decide for both of us that we don’t have to talk about it?”

Dean sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “This is what I was afraid of,” he muttered. “I knew you were gonna make a big damn deal about it —”

“Because it is a big damn deal!”

✨ joke ✨

--

Sam whirled when he heard footsteps behind him. A man in a navy blue suit walked past. He glanced at Sam and quickly averted his gaze, but not before Sam saw that his eyes were pure black.

Demon. Sam staggered back a step. His heart raced and he felt lightheaded.

More people appeared in the shadowy corridor. Men and women in business attire, carrying folders or briefcases. They walked with a brisk pace, as if they were running late for a meeting. They gave Sam a wide berth, moving away from him as quickly as possible.

They all had black eyes.

He grabbed a stocky, middle aged male in a gray suit and blue tie. The demon gasped when Sam touched him. His black eyes went wide, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

“Don’t,” he whimpered. “Please, Mr. Winchester, don’t touch me.”

“Where am I?” Sam demanded.

“Mr. Winchester, please—” The demon tried to pull free, but Sam dug in his fingers until the demon gasped in pain.

“Where am I, damn it?”

The demon cringed, as if expecting to be struck. “You’re in Hell!”

Shock made Sam loosen his grip, and the demon pulled free. With one last panicked look at Sam, he scurried away.

“Hell?” Sam whispered. “Why am I in Hell?”

A redrawing of one of my most enjoyed comics! The original was drawn in 2014, and seeing it resurge on my reblogs made me really want to take a crack at redrawing it in 2021. I cannot believe it’s been 6-7 years since the original…  

I also just recently started a page where I’ll be selling comics digitally, comics that will be for sell on gumroad and some not posted to tumblr or other areas. If you’re interested in what might show up there, feel free to add your e-mail to get updates on added comics!

Foolscapper’s Comics on Gumroad

Love you guys, hope you’re all doing well! ♥

✨ SOFT ✨

--

“You’re doing it again.” Sam’s voice was soft, barely audible. “Every time we start to get close, you drag out all these old grievances and beat me over the head with them. Do you not want to be with me? Is that it? Are you… ashamed of the things we do when we’re together?”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then, what is it?” Tears blurred Sam’s vision. “Why do you keep pushing me away, Dean?”

A confused look came over Dean’s face. “I, uh, I don’t know.”

“Fine.” Sam stood up and put on his jacket. “Call me when you figure it out. Because I’m done.”

“What do you mean, done?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m tired of fighting with you, Dean. I can’t do it anymore. I’m done apologizing. Done explaining myself. It’s not worth it, because nothing is ever going to be good enough for you.”

✨ SHADOW ✨

--

Dean’s grin is triumphant, radiant. “Decision time, Sammy. Who do you belong to? Are you mine?”

It’s as if he can see into every corner of Sam’s brain, even the dark, shadowy parts that Sam doesn’t wish to acknowledge. Dean knows what he needs. And he’ll be happy to give it to Sam, once Sam says the words he wants to hear.

A shudder races through him, and he knows that he’s done fighting. Yes, he’ll give Dean anything he wants — his possessions, his body, even his soul. He will kneel at Dean’s feet and kiss his boots, if that’s what it’ll take. Please, just touch me.

To celebrate this important tumblr holiday, please enjoy a special edition of our weekly word game.

“Happy birthday, Sam.” Dean presented him with a plain white box. No wrapping paper or bow. That was one hundred percent Dean: no frills. “I saw this and right away, I thought of you.”

“You did?” Sam immediately became suspicious. “Why? What is it?”

Dean let out an irritated hiss. “Open it and see.”

Knowing Dean’s penchant for practical jokes, it could be anything. Sam carefully opened the box, bracing himself.

He caught his breath when he saw what was inside. “Dean, oh my god. This… this is gorgeous.” His throat tightened and he couldn’t say anything more.

Dean’s face lit up. “You like it?”

“I love it.” Sam took the knife out of the box and carefully removed it from its sheath. Eight inches of steel gleamed in the motel’s overhead light.