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I'm stalled.
Argh.
My Bad!Sam fic completely stalled on me which is just plain annoying because I am in love with the idea. I'm thinking though that people will notice if I just type THEEE EEEEND in the middle of a story.
I keep looking at my Happy Ending prompts and I am in love (I'm in that kind of mood apparently) with each and every one and therefore I must write them. I'm hoping before June is out Daniel Jackson and Willow Rosenberg will have ridden off into the sunset, Dean Winchester will get to fly a puddle jumper, the Winchester boys will find out that they have a long lost brother who is also called Dean and SG-1 will have numerous discussions over the phone about wardrobe choice just to name a few.
I'm thinking of doing a POV meme, top 5 POV's I write and the bottom 5 (dirty!) as in, the ones I find myself avoiding. Iiiiinteresting. Maybe that will shake something loose.
Now to torture you all, here is another snippet of the fic THAT WON'T FINISH!!
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Dean hears, “Niiiice,” purred in his ear and he’s about to whip around and confront just who the hell has managed to get into the shower with him without him actually noticing when he realises what’s happening. Something pushes at him and Dean gets an eerie sensation like the cables connecting his mind and his body letting go.
Low laughter rumbles through his head.
Hell no, Dean thinks right before his forehead smacks hard against the unforgiving tile in front of him and he slumps.
000
“Hey, wake up.”
Dean cracks open one eye and then the other, seeing Sam’s face hovering just over him. A grin splits Sam’s face. “Wha hap’nd?” Dean croaks, knowing he should be worried by how much it hurts to talk, his throat feeling raw and abused.
Like he’s been screaming really recently.
‘You got possessed you dumb shit,” Sam snaps, but there’s humor in his face and wry affection. If anything, that makes Dean even more confused. He flexes his fingers, hands and then curls his arms up to his chest. Everything seems to be cooperating.
“You exorcised it?” Dean hazards.
“Something like that, yeah,” Sam evades and waves a hand. When he does, Dean can see he’s wearing black, fingerless gloves. Dean’s lying prone so he sits up slowly. There’s a slight headache but nothing worse than what he’d be dealing with if he’d had a few beers the night before.
Sam’s keeping one side of his face turned away and that makes Dean edgy. “Look at me,” he demands. Sam grimaces and turns slowly, Dean watching healthy pink skin give way to an ugly mess of green and brown from right to left. Dean leans over the bed he’s on to puke because he knows, even before the dull ache in his knuckles registers that he did that, he messed up his brother’s face.
Dean’s last coherent thought is that he hopes to hell Sam isn’t angry enough at him to let him pitch face-first into his own mess as he passes out.
000
Dean comes to back in the shower and has a panicky moment right before he realises that Sam is in the stall with him, holding him up. It’s so bizarre that it doesn’t even occur to him to be embarrassed that he’s completely naked and Sam is mostly dressed, t-shirt and boxers on.
Dean huffs and shakes water out of his hair, pushing back so Sam will catch on that he’s awake. Sam’s got him under the arms and he adjusts his grip and loosens his hold when Dean gets his feet under him properly and steadies himself with hands on either side of the tile wall.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean grunts. The water is only lukewarm and he hates that. Sam still has a hand on his back like he’s expecting Dean to keel over when he leans out of the shower and snags one of the motel towels. Dean shuts off the water himself before Sam pulls it in with them and then steps out.
“You puked on the floor, then yourself, then me,” Sam says, sounding bemused. “I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
Dean wraps the towel about himself and moves to step out. Sam’s hands come up and hover until Dean has both feet on the coarse mat beside the tub. Dean notices when he’s using another towel to rub over his head and Sam is just hovering in the doorway that he is still wearing the fingerless gloves and has socks on.
“What’s with these?” Dean asks, reaching out for one of Sam’s hands and feels a little hurt when Sam flinches backwards. He can understand Sam’s reticence because from what he’s been able to piece together he’s beaten the shit out of the kid and relatively recently, but he knows if anyone, Sam should understand the difference between him and when he’s possessed.
“I’m cold,” Sam says and Dean knows he’s lying. He’s also pretty sure Sam knows he knows but is looking at Dean with his chin up and his eyes flat. The bruised side of his face is titled towards Dean and he knows that isn’t an accident. Look what you did to me he’s saying. I get to be weird for a little while and you don’t get to say a damned thing about it.
Dean lets it go, frowning at Sam’s back when he follows him out into the main room. Dean catches sight of a paper on one of the bedside tables and pulls up short, noting the date. Last he remembered it was May twelfth.
The paper says June twenty-ninth.
Argh.
My Bad!Sam fic completely stalled on me which is just plain annoying because I am in love with the idea. I'm thinking though that people will notice if I just type THEEE EEEEND in the middle of a story.
I keep looking at my Happy Ending prompts and I am in love (I'm in that kind of mood apparently) with each and every one and therefore I must write them. I'm hoping before June is out Daniel Jackson and Willow Rosenberg will have ridden off into the sunset, Dean Winchester will get to fly a puddle jumper, the Winchester boys will find out that they have a long lost brother who is also called Dean and SG-1 will have numerous discussions over the phone about wardrobe choice just to name a few.
I'm thinking of doing a POV meme, top 5 POV's I write and the bottom 5 (dirty!) as in, the ones I find myself avoiding. Iiiiinteresting. Maybe that will shake something loose.
Now to torture you all, here is another snippet of the fic THAT WON'T FINISH!!
------------------
Dean hears, “Niiiice,” purred in his ear and he’s about to whip around and confront just who the hell has managed to get into the shower with him without him actually noticing when he realises what’s happening. Something pushes at him and Dean gets an eerie sensation like the cables connecting his mind and his body letting go.
Low laughter rumbles through his head.
Hell no, Dean thinks right before his forehead smacks hard against the unforgiving tile in front of him and he slumps.
“Hey, wake up.”
Dean cracks open one eye and then the other, seeing Sam’s face hovering just over him. A grin splits Sam’s face. “Wha hap’nd?” Dean croaks, knowing he should be worried by how much it hurts to talk, his throat feeling raw and abused.
Like he’s been screaming really recently.
‘You got possessed you dumb shit,” Sam snaps, but there’s humor in his face and wry affection. If anything, that makes Dean even more confused. He flexes his fingers, hands and then curls his arms up to his chest. Everything seems to be cooperating.
“You exorcised it?” Dean hazards.
“Something like that, yeah,” Sam evades and waves a hand. When he does, Dean can see he’s wearing black, fingerless gloves. Dean’s lying prone so he sits up slowly. There’s a slight headache but nothing worse than what he’d be dealing with if he’d had a few beers the night before.
Sam’s keeping one side of his face turned away and that makes Dean edgy. “Look at me,” he demands. Sam grimaces and turns slowly, Dean watching healthy pink skin give way to an ugly mess of green and brown from right to left. Dean leans over the bed he’s on to puke because he knows, even before the dull ache in his knuckles registers that he did that, he messed up his brother’s face.
Dean’s last coherent thought is that he hopes to hell Sam isn’t angry enough at him to let him pitch face-first into his own mess as he passes out.
Dean comes to back in the shower and has a panicky moment right before he realises that Sam is in the stall with him, holding him up. It’s so bizarre that it doesn’t even occur to him to be embarrassed that he’s completely naked and Sam is mostly dressed, t-shirt and boxers on.
Dean huffs and shakes water out of his hair, pushing back so Sam will catch on that he’s awake. Sam’s got him under the arms and he adjusts his grip and loosens his hold when Dean gets his feet under him properly and steadies himself with hands on either side of the tile wall.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean grunts. The water is only lukewarm and he hates that. Sam still has a hand on his back like he’s expecting Dean to keel over when he leans out of the shower and snags one of the motel towels. Dean shuts off the water himself before Sam pulls it in with them and then steps out.
“You puked on the floor, then yourself, then me,” Sam says, sounding bemused. “I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
Dean wraps the towel about himself and moves to step out. Sam’s hands come up and hover until Dean has both feet on the coarse mat beside the tub. Dean notices when he’s using another towel to rub over his head and Sam is just hovering in the doorway that he is still wearing the fingerless gloves and has socks on.
“What’s with these?” Dean asks, reaching out for one of Sam’s hands and feels a little hurt when Sam flinches backwards. He can understand Sam’s reticence because from what he’s been able to piece together he’s beaten the shit out of the kid and relatively recently, but he knows if anyone, Sam should understand the difference between him and when he’s possessed.
“I’m cold,” Sam says and Dean knows he’s lying. He’s also pretty sure Sam knows he knows but is looking at Dean with his chin up and his eyes flat. The bruised side of his face is titled towards Dean and he knows that isn’t an accident. Look what you did to me he’s saying. I get to be weird for a little while and you don’t get to say a damned thing about it.
Dean lets it go, frowning at Sam’s back when he follows him out into the main room. Dean catches sight of a paper on one of the bedside tables and pulls up short, noting the date. Last he remembered it was May twelfth.
The paper says June twenty-ninth.
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(Is this a gen fic?)
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That said, very interesting snippet! I hope you get your muse back soon
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Just wanted to say that this rocks so friggin' hard and I hope that you're able to work through blocks and such to finish it how you would like to. And then post it. So I can read it. *VEG*
I love your stuff and can't wait for what's coming down the pike.