I am feeling an inkling of my old writerly self again. Would be good to return to that ability to knock out a story every once in a blue moon. Meanwhile I have been looking through my WIPs and oh man it's pretty embarrassing the stuff I've left behind. I still have that SPN/RuPaul's Drag Race nonsense and I can't remember which one is the latest version. Really should try to get a move on finishing that one since there's a couple of genuinely funny moments and I enjoyed writing Sam's commitment to Sparkle Motion.
By Sparkle Motion, I mean absolute fierceness. Plus Dean only gets by because RuPaul thinks he's cute (oh yes, shades of Rebecca, the FAILTASTIC drag queen who did not deserve to make it to the finals). AND I PUT BOYS IN MAKEUP. Why have I not posted this yet, I ask you.
Hilariously pretty much all the stuff I've tinkered around with is not exactly going to be "popular" reading, I've got crack in the works and then there's my gen/het and nothing in between. WHAT.
Also there is a genderswap porn ficlet that I never bothered finishing, shame on me. Argh. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop stressing about making it perfect for an audience that'll never read it in the first place and just post stuff that I'd hate to delete forever. Because that's what I'm doing. I post or delete this month, very Do or Die of me but hell, I'm tired of over-thinking this stuff.
Like, for example, this incomplete scene from a story I am clearly never going to write, The Curious Case of Tweeting Birds, AKA The Tale of the Most Horrible Thing to Happen to Supernatural, or, Reg Is Breaking Up the OTP. With Castiel! BURN THE WITCH.
The Backseat Driving Angel
Author: Your Mom
Spoilers: SPN S4; Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix (no, really)
Warning: Sam is indeed listening to the Jonas Brothers
Word Count: 788
Summary: I have no idea what's going on, so here's Castiel sitting in the backseat of the Impala.
Dean would have really appreciated a manual on the care and feeding of your recently fallen angel. Mainly the section on how to get him to stop with the eco-friendly talk.
“You could convert your car to a cleaner form of fuel with only a few modifications, Dean.”
“Great, I’ll put it on my to-do list,” Dean says, glancing at the rearview mirror.
Unsurprisingly Castiel is still working through The Order of the Phoenix ‘cause apparently angels weren’t allowed to read fiction in Heaven and Castiel’s serious about making up for lost time.
Dean is never going to forgive Sam for mentioning how his post-Apocalypse resolution is reading every book listed on the top 100 banned books. When Sam brought it up, Castiel solemnly swore to join Sam in his mission. Yes those are indeed the damn words he used. Now the car's become a friggin’ book club. A club of two that is, as Dean’s got better things to do.
Castiel and Sam have had enough conversations about Harry and the Hero’s Journey that if Dean didn’t know better (and regrettably he does) he’d think it was one of the Potter books. Unfortunately he is starting to understand what they’re talking about and only turning up the Zep and rocking out is what keeps him from jumping in and making his own observations.
Damn. Just go see the movies. That’s what Dean plans on doing.
(For the record, Dean only saw the one Harry Potter movie but that’s ‘cause he was bored and he’d already seen all the porn movies on Skinemax and he had to do something with his time. And if he teared up when Sirius died, well...fuck you, Gary Oldman is awesome.)
“Hey," Dean says, turning to Sam, "remember when we didn’t have an ex-Angel in our car?”
“What?” Sam removes his earbuds, listening to what Dean suspects is the Jonas Brothers.
Dean only knows that this band exists due to walking on the second most disgusting act possible between Sam and Castiel. The first would be them doing a rehearsal of the nativity scene with Sam dressed as baby Jesus and no Dean will not ever be able to forget that nightmare, thanks for asking. They were watching the Disney Channel.
Sam might have had a glazed look on his face. A happy, blissful look.
Dean wisely decided to walk away from that situation before they did something even worse, like invite him to come watch the show with them.
Next to catching up on all the reading he’s missed out, Castiel’s other main goal in life seems to be playing life coach to Sam. Castiel has told Sam a lot of shit about how he had to follow his dreams and how important it is to celebrate life in all its purest forms of pleasure. As far as pleasure goes, Dean really has needs to Castiel the light and convince him to embrace the wonder that is a drunken night at a strip club.
Castiel seems to be immune to Dean's arguments in favor of taking a night off of reading for a night of shameless boozing, cruising, and perusing. (Okay, that last one might be Sam being a bitch about the wonders of strip clubs, but Dean likes how it sounds anyway.)
"Dude, naked chicks. Boobs. It’s awesome. Did I mention the boobs?"
Huh, maybe Castiel’s gay. Still, there’s a few dude stripper clubs that Dean unfortunately knows about and no, he is not explaining why or how he knows.
“Dean does not appreciate the idea of altering his vehicle in the fight to protect the environment,” Castiel says, thumbing to the next chapter. Dean bites his tongue, itching to tell him that Sirius dies and how much it completely sucks balls.
“Oh,” Sam says, shutting off his iPod and directing his evil stare of sincerity right at Dean. Only Dean is not going to crack. Not this time. No way. “We could always get a hybrid car.”
The horrified laugh/shriek/noise that comes out of Dean’s mouth may be pretty damn sissy but there’s no time for anyone to give Dean shit about it when a truck decides to blow a red light and heading for the Impala with the promise of a nasty T-bone collision.
Fortunately Dean’s behind the wheel.
Unfortunately, the laws of physics are still in place. He swerves off the road and once the car stops, Dean doesn’t quite stop along with it, the jerky movement propelling him forward, forehead smacking right into the glass but not hard enough to crack. The glass, that is. Blackness swarms in his field of vision, last thing he sees is that fucking Harry Potter book flipping open on the dashboard.
Um. Dean doesn't die or anything. He wakes up with blue tweeting birds flying around his head. Yes, exactly like a cartoon. Why? Well. What do you think happens when you get a fallen angel in the car? HIJINKS ensue, duh.