Tony knows he shouldn't sleep with Loki, it's just sometimes he's drunk and she's female and he forgets why.

Media: pencils, photoshop

Brad looks up. It’s that senior on the track team, Nate Fick, speaking. Brad finds him a little less vomitous then the rest. If he’s being fair, he actually thinks he’s kind of genius.

“Brad,” the professor says, “you seem intrigued by what Nate has said.”

Brad sighs inwardly.

“Jesusfuck,” Brad moans, shifting. He manages to get his hands on Nate’s tits, Nate’s perky little nipples rubbing against his palms. The feeling of that and Nate’s warm pussy through the panties clashes with the thought of Nate’s dirty face in Iraq, the cock under his cammies, thick and red at the tip, fucking beautiful.

A story in 21 parts, featuring an Ancient Greek curse, an unexpected metamorphosis, adventures in pool sharking, numerous shots of tequila, a nun outfit, zombies, angels, demons, kidnappings, startling discoveries about old acquaintances, massage, a game of strip poker, girl-on-girl action, girl-on-boy action, and boy-on-boy action.

It’s about him, his life. If he strikes out and makes something of himself, something real, then he can come back for Sam. He’ll find Sam anywhere. There are floods of blood between them, connecting them, a keepsake of bone.

They are beautiful and eternal, light and dark and grey, grey, grey. They are brothers. That’s just unbreakable. What isn’t unbreakable is Dean’s soul; he can feel it bending, reedy and pale, under the inconsolable strain of hunting, of his father constantly, slyly, making him into something he isn’t. It can’t shatter. Then he knows what will happen. He’ll end up ruined and alone, no use to Sammy or his dad or anyone else in the world.

He’ll end up a dead girl with her hair tied back and a dress in the closet.

Inside, he finds what he’s looking for, but not what he expects.

"Tell me you got me some chocolate." Sam pulled out a gigantic Hershey's bar from the bag with a capable smile.

The girl was perched on the hood of the Impala, looking like someone had just kicked her dog. And run it over. She was pretty, in a gangly sort of way, kind of tall and skinny with choppy mouse-brown hair that was hanging, tangled, over her scowl.

The Pegasus galaxy was practically a shrine to freakishness, and the freaky discovery of the week was that Rodney McKay made a surprisingly attractive woman, a little reminiscent of Marilyn, only grumpier and with darker hair.

Rodney crossed his arms under his breasts. "Well, this is stupid. And typical. Both my opportunities for hot gay sex and hot heterosexual sex are ruined!"

"Fuck," Dean said. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. "I can't—Sammy, I can't stay like this." "I know," Sam said. "We'll figure it out."

Sam as a girl is, as it turns out, even a bigger geek than Sam as a boy.