Gah...whatever.
So, I didn't sleep. Like AT ALL. I had tiny bursts of really light sleep where I'm pretty sure I was aware of everything around me anyway. I need pills or something.
Anyway, I've missed my train now, my next serious class isn't until one, but if I miss this morning, I'll get absense points. Do I get the next train in an hour and then hang around doing nothing JUST so I don't get absense points, or do I stay at home until I need to be in at one this afternoon?
Hmmm, I'll think on that. In the meantime:
I have Sam/Dean unaware-wincest fic in mind. I've already gotten 800 words of character development on an OC written. She's important, but I figure you guys won't be interested in her until the actual fic, so I'll get to the good bit, shall I?
Having, due to a chest infection, just been brought home from hospital the night of his sixth month birthday, Baby Sam Winchester was taken from his crib by the demon the night that Mary Winchester was killed. After spending the first eight years of hunting still secretly hoping to find his son, John Winchester rescues a little girl and takes her on as his own. She adapts well to life with them, hunting and travelling, becomes as close to being family as any outsider ever will. Now, ten years later, the three of them - John, Dean and sixteen year old Casey - stumble upon the case of a young boy, institutionalised for claiming to foresee people's deaths.
His name is Sam and that kind of freaks John out, but when his talent is proven to be truth and not something created by an insane mind they end up rescuing him too, and taking him on just like they took Casey on years before. Dean likes him. Really likes him. Sam's feelings are reciprocated. However...just as Dean and Sam really start to explore their relationship, a routine check of Sam's childhood home brings something to light.
In an album of baby photographs - all marked as six months and above - is a tiny hospital bracelet, tattered and old, cut from the wrist of a baby years ago - the name Sam Winchester written across it in fading ink.
I wish I could make it sound better than that. *G*.
Anyway, yeah, I'll stay here in the comfy of my house for a while. Not until one, but for a while. Heh. I'm such a flake.
Anyway, I've missed my train now, my next serious class isn't until one, but if I miss this morning, I'll get absense points. Do I get the next train in an hour and then hang around doing nothing JUST so I don't get absense points, or do I stay at home until I need to be in at one this afternoon?
Hmmm, I'll think on that. In the meantime:
I have Sam/Dean unaware-wincest fic in mind. I've already gotten 800 words of character development on an OC written. She's important, but I figure you guys won't be interested in her until the actual fic, so I'll get to the good bit, shall I?
Having, due to a chest infection, just been brought home from hospital the night of his sixth month birthday, Baby Sam Winchester was taken from his crib by the demon the night that Mary Winchester was killed. After spending the first eight years of hunting still secretly hoping to find his son, John Winchester rescues a little girl and takes her on as his own. She adapts well to life with them, hunting and travelling, becomes as close to being family as any outsider ever will. Now, ten years later, the three of them - John, Dean and sixteen year old Casey - stumble upon the case of a young boy, institutionalised for claiming to foresee people's deaths.
His name is Sam and that kind of freaks John out, but when his talent is proven to be truth and not something created by an insane mind they end up rescuing him too, and taking him on just like they took Casey on years before. Dean likes him. Really likes him. Sam's feelings are reciprocated. However...just as Dean and Sam really start to explore their relationship, a routine check of Sam's childhood home brings something to light.
In an album of baby photographs - all marked as six months and above - is a tiny hospital bracelet, tattered and old, cut from the wrist of a baby years ago - the name Sam Winchester written across it in fading ink.
I wish I could make it sound better than that. *G*.
Anyway, yeah, I'll stay here in the comfy of my house for a while. Not until one, but for a while. Heh. I'm such a flake.