(no subject)
Before I say anything I have to apologize for being so overwhelmingly awful at replying to comments in the past few ... wow, months. I don't even think I have a very cromulent excuse for being so full of fail. But I have a goal and that goal is to respond to all of the wonderful people who have left comments on my lj. So if you get a reply to something you'd forgotten you wrote you'll know what's going on.
Seriously, full of fail.
In other news: Things have been rather same ol' same ol' around here. I go to class, have strange, random ideas in class (like in Alternative Dispute Resolutions when I realized that fandom needs some sort of mediation system to ameliorate the effects of wank but then got stuck trying to figure out how something like that could even be implemented), and come home. I have good days and bad days (and terminally shitty days) and mostly just get by. *shrugs* eh, it's a life.
BTW, does anyone have a link to or a copy of a pattern for a knitted TARDIS? I used to have a link to one but the Great Computer Disaster of 2009 erased it and I haven't been able to find it again (which is not surprising given how weird the Beeb is about fan-knitted DW stuff). If anyone has or knows of something like that I would Really Appreciate it. I would even promise to knit you a TARDIS of your very own in return. Because who doesn't want to snuggle a TARDIS of their very own as they're drifiting off to sleep?
It's 2:30AM, I'm bored and I want to post fic. Since I don't have anything new and finished I think I'll just go ahead and post a SuperPretendNatural snippet that I wrote a little while ago. Just think of it as a preview of things to come. This takes place during our revised No Exit.
When they pulled up the Roadhouse was jumping. Sam and Dean simultaneously swung out of the Impala, the slam of its doors lost underneath the music and chatter spilling out of the bar.
Sam took point as they headed in. The place was packed to the gills, raucous groups of farmers and good ol’ boys (and a more than a couple gals) were gathered around the tables and bar with loners holed up in the dark corners. There was even what looked to be a pick-up pool tournament going on at the table in the back. The sudden shift from the solitude of the Impala to a noisy, crowded bar was like being thrown into the deep end of an ice-cold pool. The shock to his system left Sam stunned long enough for Dean shake his head in exasperation and head off towards the bar.
Sam blinked his eyes and internally shook himself back into focus. He waved at Ellen who reigned over it all with deceptive ease from behind the bar. He started scanning the crowd for Jem, his height giving him the chance to see her before she saw him. Anxious butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. He hadn’t realized how nervous, and excited, he was at the prospect of seeing her again.
He moved through room, his head moving back and forth in an attempt to find her. He wasn’t paying attention to what was going on directly around him so he didn’t notice the woman standing right in front of him until it was too late. He stumbled into her and with a squawk she fell backwards onto the floor.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, feeling like an overgrown idiot. He reached a hand down to help pull her back up and was so shaken that he didn’t really see her until she had grabbed his hand. When he realized who she was he almost let go of her hand.
He stared at her, wide-eyed, for a second and then said the first stupid thing that popped into his head. “Rachel, what are you doing here?”
She laughed, loud and bright, her eyes dancing. “It’s good to see you too, Sam. It’s been a long time.”
His smile widened. Warmth flowed through him, happiness tinged with only the slightest hint of residual embarrassment. “It really has,” he said and instinctively pulled her into a hug.
When they pulled apart a moment later they were both still grinning. Rachel patted Sam’s upper arm fondly. “I can’t believe it. Sam, how are you even taller? You can’t still be growing.”
Sam chuckled. “I’ve always been taller than you, Rachel. Your memory is just playing tricks on you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, uh huh. You were absolutely the most gigantic seven year-old in the world when I met you. I never said anything, but I was sure you were going to squish me flat.”
A delighted peal of laughter burst out of Sam. “That’s nothing,” he retorted. “I thought you were going to let Bobby’s dog eat me. That beast was terrifying.”
Rachel grinned and then sobered. She squeezed his hand. “I was really sorry to hear about your Dad.”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, his voice thick. He looked at the floor for a second and blinked, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The magnitude of his Dad’s death could still catch him unawares and knock him sideways.
“Sam!” A delighted shriek cut through both the noise of the bar and Sam’s grief. He turned just in time to catch Jem who had thrown herself through the crowd and straight at him. She gave him a friendly welcoming kiss.
Surprisingly, when he set her back down she turned on Rachel, her finger wagging. “Hands off, Rachel. This one’s mine.”
Rachel laughed again and put her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t worry, he’s all yours. I definitely don’t have any designs on Sam’s virtue.”
“You’d better not,” Jem replied in a jokingly serious tone. They grinned at each other, sharing a silent joke that Sam didn’t understand.
Jem turned back to Sam her eyes wide in a gleeful imitation of innocence. “So, did you bring me something?” she asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.
He pulled a package out of his pocket. “One finger bone of St. Cyriacus, as requested.”
“You’re the best,” she crowed and stretched up to give him a sloppy smooch on the cheek. She turned back to Rachel. “Okay, we can leave for that hunt now.”
Sam’s head jerked. “But we just got here,” was his involuntary rebuttal.
“Hell yeah we just got here and here we’re staying,” Dean said from his other side. He bumped Sam in the shoulder and handed him a longneck. “Here you go, Sammy.”
Dean turned to Jem, a playful leer on his face. “Hey there, Jem. How you doin’?”
Jem snorted. “Hi Dean,” she drawled. She turned back to Sam with a delighted smile. “I know, you guys can come with us!”
“Us?” Dean asked. His mouth tightened when he noticed Rachel standing next to Jem. “Oh.”
“Hi Dean,” she greeted him with a tense, awkward smile.
Jem seemed oblivious to the sudden tension between Dean and Rachel. She watched Sam and her smile just grew. “We’re going to look into some weird abductions in Philadelphia and you guys should totally come with us. It’ll be fun!”
Sam’s mood brightened even more, buoyed up by Jem’s enthusiasm. “That’s a great idea. We’re in between jobs right now anyway. It’s a date.”
Jem shrieked a little in glee and jumped up to give Sam a thorough kiss. Neither of them noticed the way Rachel’s mouth pinched in dismay or how Dean’s shoulders stiffened with stress.
“Yeah, awesome,” Dean muttered and took a long pull from his beer.
~~~
Seriously, full of fail.
In other news: Things have been rather same ol' same ol' around here. I go to class, have strange, random ideas in class (like in Alternative Dispute Resolutions when I realized that fandom needs some sort of mediation system to ameliorate the effects of wank but then got stuck trying to figure out how something like that could even be implemented), and come home. I have good days and bad days (and terminally shitty days) and mostly just get by. *shrugs* eh, it's a life.
BTW, does anyone have a link to or a copy of a pattern for a knitted TARDIS? I used to have a link to one but the Great Computer Disaster of 2009 erased it and I haven't been able to find it again (which is not surprising given how weird the Beeb is about fan-knitted DW stuff). If anyone has or knows of something like that I would Really Appreciate it. I would even promise to knit you a TARDIS of your very own in return. Because who doesn't want to snuggle a TARDIS of their very own as they're drifiting off to sleep?
It's 2:30AM, I'm bored and I want to post fic. Since I don't have anything new and finished I think I'll just go ahead and post a SuperPretendNatural snippet that I wrote a little while ago. Just think of it as a preview of things to come. This takes place during our revised No Exit.
When they pulled up the Roadhouse was jumping. Sam and Dean simultaneously swung out of the Impala, the slam of its doors lost underneath the music and chatter spilling out of the bar.
Sam took point as they headed in. The place was packed to the gills, raucous groups of farmers and good ol’ boys (and a more than a couple gals) were gathered around the tables and bar with loners holed up in the dark corners. There was even what looked to be a pick-up pool tournament going on at the table in the back. The sudden shift from the solitude of the Impala to a noisy, crowded bar was like being thrown into the deep end of an ice-cold pool. The shock to his system left Sam stunned long enough for Dean shake his head in exasperation and head off towards the bar.
Sam blinked his eyes and internally shook himself back into focus. He waved at Ellen who reigned over it all with deceptive ease from behind the bar. He started scanning the crowd for Jem, his height giving him the chance to see her before she saw him. Anxious butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. He hadn’t realized how nervous, and excited, he was at the prospect of seeing her again.
He moved through room, his head moving back and forth in an attempt to find her. He wasn’t paying attention to what was going on directly around him so he didn’t notice the woman standing right in front of him until it was too late. He stumbled into her and with a squawk she fell backwards onto the floor.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, feeling like an overgrown idiot. He reached a hand down to help pull her back up and was so shaken that he didn’t really see her until she had grabbed his hand. When he realized who she was he almost let go of her hand.
He stared at her, wide-eyed, for a second and then said the first stupid thing that popped into his head. “Rachel, what are you doing here?”
She laughed, loud and bright, her eyes dancing. “It’s good to see you too, Sam. It’s been a long time.”
His smile widened. Warmth flowed through him, happiness tinged with only the slightest hint of residual embarrassment. “It really has,” he said and instinctively pulled her into a hug.
When they pulled apart a moment later they were both still grinning. Rachel patted Sam’s upper arm fondly. “I can’t believe it. Sam, how are you even taller? You can’t still be growing.”
Sam chuckled. “I’ve always been taller than you, Rachel. Your memory is just playing tricks on you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, uh huh. You were absolutely the most gigantic seven year-old in the world when I met you. I never said anything, but I was sure you were going to squish me flat.”
A delighted peal of laughter burst out of Sam. “That’s nothing,” he retorted. “I thought you were going to let Bobby’s dog eat me. That beast was terrifying.”
Rachel grinned and then sobered. She squeezed his hand. “I was really sorry to hear about your Dad.”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, his voice thick. He looked at the floor for a second and blinked, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The magnitude of his Dad’s death could still catch him unawares and knock him sideways.
“Sam!” A delighted shriek cut through both the noise of the bar and Sam’s grief. He turned just in time to catch Jem who had thrown herself through the crowd and straight at him. She gave him a friendly welcoming kiss.
Surprisingly, when he set her back down she turned on Rachel, her finger wagging. “Hands off, Rachel. This one’s mine.”
Rachel laughed again and put her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t worry, he’s all yours. I definitely don’t have any designs on Sam’s virtue.”
“You’d better not,” Jem replied in a jokingly serious tone. They grinned at each other, sharing a silent joke that Sam didn’t understand.
Jem turned back to Sam her eyes wide in a gleeful imitation of innocence. “So, did you bring me something?” she asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.
He pulled a package out of his pocket. “One finger bone of St. Cyriacus, as requested.”
“You’re the best,” she crowed and stretched up to give him a sloppy smooch on the cheek. She turned back to Rachel. “Okay, we can leave for that hunt now.”
Sam’s head jerked. “But we just got here,” was his involuntary rebuttal.
“Hell yeah we just got here and here we’re staying,” Dean said from his other side. He bumped Sam in the shoulder and handed him a longneck. “Here you go, Sammy.”
Dean turned to Jem, a playful leer on his face. “Hey there, Jem. How you doin’?”
Jem snorted. “Hi Dean,” she drawled. She turned back to Sam with a delighted smile. “I know, you guys can come with us!”
“Us?” Dean asked. His mouth tightened when he noticed Rachel standing next to Jem. “Oh.”
“Hi Dean,” she greeted him with a tense, awkward smile.
Jem seemed oblivious to the sudden tension between Dean and Rachel. She watched Sam and her smile just grew. “We’re going to look into some weird abductions in Philadelphia and you guys should totally come with us. It’ll be fun!”
Sam’s mood brightened even more, buoyed up by Jem’s enthusiasm. “That’s a great idea. We’re in between jobs right now anyway. It’s a date.”
Jem shrieked a little in glee and jumped up to give Sam a thorough kiss. Neither of them noticed the way Rachel’s mouth pinched in dismay or how Dean’s shoulders stiffened with stress.
“Yeah, awesome,” Dean muttered and took a long pull from his beer.
~~~