2 Ficlets: 1 Supernatural + 1 Bible
So, I had a really terrible writing drought all of January and I guess the first half of February, too. These are just some short exercises I forced out of myself in an attempt to get back on the horse. They are both pretty bad, especially the second, so don't read them. They really were just my attempts to flex some atrophied writing muscles.
Title: Pet Peeves
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexual content and language.
Word Count: 941
Author’s Note: Written for eggnogged's prompt at glovered's Batcave Fic & Art Comment Meme: "The bat cave is haunted! By the ghost of a cat. It seems friendly, though. Sam & Dean argue about whether or not they should keep their ghostly pet or salt & burn it!"
"Ghost piss!"
Dean blinks a few times, sitting up so he can better see his brother. Sam is standing at the edge of the bed, already dressed like he's been up for hours, and he looks really mad. His hair even looks mad, all sticking up in every direction.
It's kind of impossible not to smile at. "Good mornin' to you too, Sammy."
"It's not funny." Sam is all in a huff, which, regardless of what he says, is pretty funny. "Your goddamn pet peed all over the books I was using for research, Dean. Tell me again why we shouldn't fry the damn thing."
"Do ghosts pee?" Dean asks. This is news to him. "I don't think I knew that."
Sam crosses his arms over his chest and makes a constipated face, so Dean sighs, moving to the end of the bed and putting on a placating tone, "Aw, come on, Sam. He didn't mean any harm. Remember, this is his home. We're the ones trespassing."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Sam asks. "You gave me shit for months just for having a dog in the car to save its life. The cat-who is dead, may I remind you-pees all over my stuff and you take his side?"
Dean shakes his head. "That smell will haunt my baby for years. How long does ghost pee stink? I still don't even think I believe in ghost pee."
"Well, then why don't you go sleep in the library? You'll believe then."
Dean smiles and pulls on Sam's hand. "You didn't need those books anyway."
"Yes I did," Sam insists, pouting now, but moving onto the bed as Dean leads him nonetheless. "I was trying to figure out the initiation for-"
"Man, they're all dead," Dean says with a chuckle. "I'm pretty sure all you have to do to be a Man of Letters at this point is have a pulse."
"Yeah, and even by those low standards the cat doesn't make the cut," Sam grumbles.
Dean runs his fingers down Sam's spine and feels his brother shiver. He smiles, because he's going to win this. He knows how to play Sam like a double-sided tape. "What do you want to do? You wanna get a ghost dog? Ghost dog can't get in the car, though."
Sam lets out a long breath and relaxes down into bed. "I hope Skinenbones claws the Impala's upholstery."
"Don't even joke like that," Dean tells him, pressing his lips into Sam's neck. "If it makes you feel any better, no ghost cats in the car, either. He can stay here."
"Or we can set him on fire," Sam offers.
Dean climbs on top of his brother and kisses him, circling his hips slowly. "How 'bout I set you on fire instead?"
Sam groans and, miraculously, stops bitching. Dean is so good he impresses himself sometimes.
***
Half an hour later, Dean can hear the water running from Sam's shower. He'd thought about joining, but he's pretty much fucked out for now, and still not in the mood to get up. He stretches, basking in the glory of having a bed bigger than a motel twin all to himself.
The mattress dips, and the temperature falls considerably. Dean hears a soft purring and grins as a cold little head butts up against his ribs, begging for attention.
"Hey boy," Dean says, curling his fingers under Skinenbones's chin. "Who's a good boy?"
"Meow," says the cat.
"Yeah you are," Dean agrees. He smirks, because Sam's been spending too much time with those damn books, and maybe it wasn't his idea for Skinenbones to go ruin them with his ghost pee, but he nonetheless feels like the cat was looking out for him. After all, angry Sam whining to Dean about ruined books still got him laid without ever having to leave the comfort of his bed.
Cats are awesome.
"Skinenbones is a stupid name."
Dean looks up from the cat and sees that Sam has come out of the bathroom, towel tied around his waist and water dripping down his naked chest. That's even more awesome than a ghost cat. He lets himself enjoy the view.
"He doesn't even really have skin, and you won't let me burn the bones, so what good are they?"
Dean picks Skinenbones up and holds him to his chest, making room for Sam to sit at the edge of the bed. "It's a perfectly good name for a perfectly good cat."
"He can't sleep with us anymore," Sam continues. "He makes it too cold."
"You make it too hot," Dean replies, scratching behind Skinenbones's ears. "He balances it out."
"Do you even like cats?" Sam finally asks.
Dean keeps his eyes on the fur in his hands-tabby, maybe? He's all see-through and ghost-colored now, but Dean thinks he was probably a tabby-as he clears his throat. "A ghost pet is a fairly awesome way to go if you're gonna have a pet."
Sam makes a sound. "Since when do you want a pet, anyway?"
Dean puts the cat back down on the bed and looks up at Sam instead. "Pets are, uh, a good way to anchor yourself, you know? If…if we've got a pet, we've got a place we need to come back to, right? Like…like a-"
"Like a home?" Sam asks.
Dean shrugs.
Sam's lips turn up just a fraction in the corners, and to Dean's surprise, he reaches out and gives Skinenbones a long pat on the back. "Okay, but seriously, if he pees on my books again, I'm making ghost cat barbecue."
Title: Trials and Tribulations
Fandom: The Bible
Characters/Pairings: background Jesus/Judas and/or Jesus/Mary Magdalene, Andrew/Phillip
Rating: PG-13 for a lot of blasphemy and some language
Word Count: 523
Author’s Note: So, this is a little ficlet for au_bingo, which I failed at a year ago but am slowly trying to blackout my card on anyway. I got a "fandom" square and was super bitter because I really, really hate fic about characters being in fandom. So, I didn't want to read enough for a reclist OR write anything for it, but I am determined to do something for every square. One day I was watching Jesus Christ Superstar and shipping Jesus/Judas (as you do) and I realized that the apostles are really kind of just the Jesus fangirls who wrote fic about him after he died. I decided this might be kind of funny, but it isn't really in practice, so don't read it. no good and I don't really know much about the Bible at all.
Summary: In which Heaven is a fangirl commune and God's life sucks.
God-they were going to drive Him crazy.
"Stop using your name in vain," He told Himself as He took a seat at the dinner table.
The apostles had already flocked in for the night and were apparently well into their usual arguments.
"Jesus/Mary is the best ship ever," said John. "It was totally canon."
"Brother, please," replied James. "Everyone knows Jesus was too busy chasing Judas to even notice Mary."
"You're not allowed to say that," Bartholomew told them, as he's told them every time they have this conversation for the last however many thousand years. Not that anybody listens. He's the only sorry bastard who still follows God's rules now that they've all made it to Heaven. "It's blasphemy. Remember? God told us lying with another man is a sin, so implying that his own son-"
"Yeah, I get it," says James. "But come on. Those two are obvious."
God sighs. "The 'I hate gays' thing was a joke. I thought everyone would know it was ironic and ignore it. Like the shellfish thing." He takes a bite of his shrimp. "I fucking love shellfish."
"And your son fucking loves gay sex," James adds.
With a short burst of thunder, God shrugs. He never approved of that Judas boy, but that doesn't mean his problem was with Jesus being gayer than a pagan fertility festival. He's not the overbearing dad everyone makes him out to be.
"Stop trying to Joss my verses," John complained. "I'm writing the lost book of Jesus and Mary, and I'm a really good apostle. It's canon if I say it is."
Peter laughs. "You guys do remember we were all there, right? And that is was really just a big ol' gen fic?"
Everyone at the table turns on him, their eyes narrowing to a glare.
"Peter, shut up," they say in unison. Poor Peter. None of Jesus's friends has ever cared much for his logic.
But at least they all agree on that? God puts it in the win column.
"Where's Andrew?" John asks, ignoring any possible arguments against his holy work. "I want to talk to him about doing some art for my gospel."
"Andrew is making out with Phillip," James informed him. "They're, like, the best side pairing ever."
"Slashers," John murmured, shaking his head. Not that he didn't believe James. Andrew and Phillip were always making out.
"Hey, speaking of gay lovers," said James.
Jesus and Judas came in then, glaring at each other. God really wishes His son would do a better job brushing his hair and straightening out his clothes after a rough bout of hate sex. He's not asking for much; He'd just like to be able to repress certain things. Being omniscient is not all it's cracked up to be.
"Oh, hey dad," Jesus says casually, taking the chair to God's right. "Judas and I were just, uh, repenting our sins."
Judas coughs uncomfortably and nods.
"Sodomy," Bartholomew mutters sadly. "I died, went to Heaven, and yet I am surrounded by sodomites."
God gives him a supportive pat on the back and goes back to his shellfish.
Title: Pet Peeves
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexual content and language.
Word Count: 941
Author’s Note: Written for eggnogged's prompt at glovered's Batcave Fic & Art Comment Meme: "The bat cave is haunted! By the ghost of a cat. It seems friendly, though. Sam & Dean argue about whether or not they should keep their ghostly pet or salt & burn it!"
"Ghost piss!"
Dean blinks a few times, sitting up so he can better see his brother. Sam is standing at the edge of the bed, already dressed like he's been up for hours, and he looks really mad. His hair even looks mad, all sticking up in every direction.
It's kind of impossible not to smile at. "Good mornin' to you too, Sammy."
"It's not funny." Sam is all in a huff, which, regardless of what he says, is pretty funny. "Your goddamn pet peed all over the books I was using for research, Dean. Tell me again why we shouldn't fry the damn thing."
"Do ghosts pee?" Dean asks. This is news to him. "I don't think I knew that."
Sam crosses his arms over his chest and makes a constipated face, so Dean sighs, moving to the end of the bed and putting on a placating tone, "Aw, come on, Sam. He didn't mean any harm. Remember, this is his home. We're the ones trespassing."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Sam asks. "You gave me shit for months just for having a dog in the car to save its life. The cat-who is dead, may I remind you-pees all over my stuff and you take his side?"
Dean shakes his head. "That smell will haunt my baby for years. How long does ghost pee stink? I still don't even think I believe in ghost pee."
"Well, then why don't you go sleep in the library? You'll believe then."
Dean smiles and pulls on Sam's hand. "You didn't need those books anyway."
"Yes I did," Sam insists, pouting now, but moving onto the bed as Dean leads him nonetheless. "I was trying to figure out the initiation for-"
"Man, they're all dead," Dean says with a chuckle. "I'm pretty sure all you have to do to be a Man of Letters at this point is have a pulse."
"Yeah, and even by those low standards the cat doesn't make the cut," Sam grumbles.
Dean runs his fingers down Sam's spine and feels his brother shiver. He smiles, because he's going to win this. He knows how to play Sam like a double-sided tape. "What do you want to do? You wanna get a ghost dog? Ghost dog can't get in the car, though."
Sam lets out a long breath and relaxes down into bed. "I hope Skinenbones claws the Impala's upholstery."
"Don't even joke like that," Dean tells him, pressing his lips into Sam's neck. "If it makes you feel any better, no ghost cats in the car, either. He can stay here."
"Or we can set him on fire," Sam offers.
Dean climbs on top of his brother and kisses him, circling his hips slowly. "How 'bout I set you on fire instead?"
Sam groans and, miraculously, stops bitching. Dean is so good he impresses himself sometimes.
***
Half an hour later, Dean can hear the water running from Sam's shower. He'd thought about joining, but he's pretty much fucked out for now, and still not in the mood to get up. He stretches, basking in the glory of having a bed bigger than a motel twin all to himself.
The mattress dips, and the temperature falls considerably. Dean hears a soft purring and grins as a cold little head butts up against his ribs, begging for attention.
"Hey boy," Dean says, curling his fingers under Skinenbones's chin. "Who's a good boy?"
"Meow," says the cat.
"Yeah you are," Dean agrees. He smirks, because Sam's been spending too much time with those damn books, and maybe it wasn't his idea for Skinenbones to go ruin them with his ghost pee, but he nonetheless feels like the cat was looking out for him. After all, angry Sam whining to Dean about ruined books still got him laid without ever having to leave the comfort of his bed.
Cats are awesome.
"Skinenbones is a stupid name."
Dean looks up from the cat and sees that Sam has come out of the bathroom, towel tied around his waist and water dripping down his naked chest. That's even more awesome than a ghost cat. He lets himself enjoy the view.
"He doesn't even really have skin, and you won't let me burn the bones, so what good are they?"
Dean picks Skinenbones up and holds him to his chest, making room for Sam to sit at the edge of the bed. "It's a perfectly good name for a perfectly good cat."
"He can't sleep with us anymore," Sam continues. "He makes it too cold."
"You make it too hot," Dean replies, scratching behind Skinenbones's ears. "He balances it out."
"Do you even like cats?" Sam finally asks.
Dean keeps his eyes on the fur in his hands-tabby, maybe? He's all see-through and ghost-colored now, but Dean thinks he was probably a tabby-as he clears his throat. "A ghost pet is a fairly awesome way to go if you're gonna have a pet."
Sam makes a sound. "Since when do you want a pet, anyway?"
Dean puts the cat back down on the bed and looks up at Sam instead. "Pets are, uh, a good way to anchor yourself, you know? If…if we've got a pet, we've got a place we need to come back to, right? Like…like a-"
"Like a home?" Sam asks.
Dean shrugs.
Sam's lips turn up just a fraction in the corners, and to Dean's surprise, he reaches out and gives Skinenbones a long pat on the back. "Okay, but seriously, if he pees on my books again, I'm making ghost cat barbecue."
Title: Trials and Tribulations
Fandom: The Bible
Characters/Pairings: background Jesus/Judas and/or Jesus/Mary Magdalene, Andrew/Phillip
Rating: PG-13 for a lot of blasphemy and some language
Word Count: 523
Author’s Note: So, this is a little ficlet for au_bingo, which I failed at a year ago but am slowly trying to blackout my card on anyway. I got a "fandom" square and was super bitter because I really, really hate fic about characters being in fandom. So, I didn't want to read enough for a reclist OR write anything for it, but I am determined to do something for every square. One day I was watching Jesus Christ Superstar and shipping Jesus/Judas (as you do) and I realized that the apostles are really kind of just the Jesus fangirls who wrote fic about him after he died. I decided this might be kind of funny, but it isn't really in practice, so don't read it. no good and I don't really know much about the Bible at all.
Summary: In which Heaven is a fangirl commune and God's life sucks.
God-they were going to drive Him crazy.
"Stop using your name in vain," He told Himself as He took a seat at the dinner table.
The apostles had already flocked in for the night and were apparently well into their usual arguments.
"Jesus/Mary is the best ship ever," said John. "It was totally canon."
"Brother, please," replied James. "Everyone knows Jesus was too busy chasing Judas to even notice Mary."
"You're not allowed to say that," Bartholomew told them, as he's told them every time they have this conversation for the last however many thousand years. Not that anybody listens. He's the only sorry bastard who still follows God's rules now that they've all made it to Heaven. "It's blasphemy. Remember? God told us lying with another man is a sin, so implying that his own son-"
"Yeah, I get it," says James. "But come on. Those two are obvious."
God sighs. "The 'I hate gays' thing was a joke. I thought everyone would know it was ironic and ignore it. Like the shellfish thing." He takes a bite of his shrimp. "I fucking love shellfish."
"And your son fucking loves gay sex," James adds.
With a short burst of thunder, God shrugs. He never approved of that Judas boy, but that doesn't mean his problem was with Jesus being gayer than a pagan fertility festival. He's not the overbearing dad everyone makes him out to be.
"Stop trying to Joss my verses," John complained. "I'm writing the lost book of Jesus and Mary, and I'm a really good apostle. It's canon if I say it is."
Peter laughs. "You guys do remember we were all there, right? And that is was really just a big ol' gen fic?"
Everyone at the table turns on him, their eyes narrowing to a glare.
"Peter, shut up," they say in unison. Poor Peter. None of Jesus's friends has ever cared much for his logic.
But at least they all agree on that? God puts it in the win column.
"Where's Andrew?" John asks, ignoring any possible arguments against his holy work. "I want to talk to him about doing some art for my gospel."
"Andrew is making out with Phillip," James informed him. "They're, like, the best side pairing ever."
"Slashers," John murmured, shaking his head. Not that he didn't believe James. Andrew and Phillip were always making out.
"Hey, speaking of gay lovers," said James.
Jesus and Judas came in then, glaring at each other. God really wishes His son would do a better job brushing his hair and straightening out his clothes after a rough bout of hate sex. He's not asking for much; He'd just like to be able to repress certain things. Being omniscient is not all it's cracked up to be.
"Oh, hey dad," Jesus says casually, taking the chair to God's right. "Judas and I were just, uh, repenting our sins."
Judas coughs uncomfortably and nods.
"Sodomy," Bartholomew mutters sadly. "I died, went to Heaven, and yet I am surrounded by sodomites."
God gives him a supportive pat on the back and goes back to his shellfish.