Words-In-Possibilities
That nifty little WIP meme that's going around:
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph, or in my case, WHATEVER) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
These are raw to the bone and mostly un-checked so I take full responsibility for these being possibly crap. Two of them will be posted some day. The rest will either be finished or not.
1. "Not. One. Word." Sam says, fists at his side, just waiting for it. Because as much as he wants to believe Dean, in his recently-gained years, will respect this request, he knows that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
And Dean's a really old dog now.
Bobby on the other hand, squints his eyes, trying to pull his face from memory, and when he gets it, his eyes get wider with nostalgia. "Sam?"
Sam bites the inside of his mouth and nods, sidestepping Dean and shuffling into the room carefully, trying not to trip over the way, way too-long pants he's now holding up with one hand, the other hand trying to keep his t-shirt from slipping off one shoulder. He shuffles over to the kitchenette and flops himself down on a chair.
2. Jared feels something drop into the pit of his stomach as he puts it together, and his face flushes. "You're asking me out," he says.
Jared hears a sigh over the phone, followed by a deep breath. "No, no I'm way too shy to ask out a guy I just met. I'm using my quirkiness ad distraction techniques to charm you into just humoring me and not actually making me go through with the asking part of it."
"So instead of asking me, you're telling me."
"Crippling shyness, Jared. Been a curse my entire life. Never got up the courage to ask for that dance with the prom king. Well, that could have been because the prom king took my little sister to my prom. That was an awkward limo drive. Oh! Okay so there's a showing of that movie with the exploding cars downtown near the school. Should we pick a time, even? I always go by 'the movie will start sometime after we get there' but I don't know if you're more into having a set schedule."
3. "Duct tape," Lucifer says. "It's really amazing stuff. I keep meaning to thank your side for that."
"We came up with duct tape after I had a nervous breakdown about fifty years ago and the cherubs had to restrain me. I kept snapping their chubby little wings off."
Lucifer's jaw drops so hard that it actually comes loose again, clanking on the floor. Which is a shame, because he really wants to make a smartass remark about how he forgot that Michael was kind of a sociopath. And how he thinks that's just dreamy.
"What? They grew back," Michael pouts.
4. There's a small noise, somewhere between a cough and a breath, light as air. But it doesn't come from Dean, Sam is sure of this, he's making heavier sounds, grunting when his injured leg tries to support any weight, muttering to himself, or maybe he is talking to Sam but Sam's not paying attention. His head is still swimming in that mid-euphoria brought on by nearly destroying the world and now seemingly having been saved from that fate.
Sam almost lets it go, only it happens again, the feather-light sigh, only now it's definitely not Dean, and it's not the sound of something crunching beneath the heel of his shoe, which Sam notes at one point were white loafers, now ash-gray and blood-tipped.
So, the devil wears white shoes after labor day.
5. Jensen looks back up at Jared. "Why don't I know you?"
"Well, why don't I know you?" Jared responds, perplexed.
Jensen's fingers touch his and he holds back a gasp, a shock at something so softly intimate as his fingertips touching Jared's, and somehow slowly slipping between his fingers, prying them off the glass. Jared watches in fascination as Jensen weaves his own fingers through Jared's and holds onto his wine glass, turning it to face the edge where the liquid still hangs on the rim, where Jared had drank from. And then lifting it, breaking free of Jared's grip to bring the wineglass to his own mouth.
Jared feels his face flush as Jensen brings his parted, wet lips to the glass and drinks, all the while obscene thoughts running through Jared's mind about that mouth and those lips and then Jensen's eyes slip shut as he sets the glass down and swallows, presses his lips together and seems to give a little satisfied nod to himself.
Jensen gives him a smile, not like the one from before, this one is the kind of smile that men get slapped in the face for because of the kinds of thoughts that lie behind it. He places another twenty dollars on the counter. He leaves without another word, all the while Jared stares at him.
"Weirdo," Jared concludes to himself when his rational brain returns to him, and he finishes both glasses before shutting off the lights and locking up the restaurant.
6. Dean makes a face at Sam. "Hilarious. I'm serious though, you two should learn how to be in a room together without it turning into a teleological fistfight."
"I think you mean 'theological', Dean."
"No, I meant teleological. As in you and Cas have fundamental differences of opinions regarding your ends and purposes in the universe and the appropriation and end means of God-your deism and belief clashing with his innate divinity, which has now been brought down to a more ontologically empirical level in your understanding-or something."
Sam blinks. "Did... Did Castiel tell you that?"
"What? No! The waitress I banged is a grad student. I got bored waiting for the pie to cool off, so I read through some of her notes."
Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh god, I did not need to know that the pie was fresh, Dean."
Happy Sunday!
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph, or in my case, WHATEVER) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
These are raw to the bone and mostly un-checked so I take full responsibility for these being possibly crap. Two of them will be posted some day. The rest will either be finished or not.
1. "Not. One. Word." Sam says, fists at his side, just waiting for it. Because as much as he wants to believe Dean, in his recently-gained years, will respect this request, he knows that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
And Dean's a really old dog now.
Bobby on the other hand, squints his eyes, trying to pull his face from memory, and when he gets it, his eyes get wider with nostalgia. "Sam?"
Sam bites the inside of his mouth and nods, sidestepping Dean and shuffling into the room carefully, trying not to trip over the way, way too-long pants he's now holding up with one hand, the other hand trying to keep his t-shirt from slipping off one shoulder. He shuffles over to the kitchenette and flops himself down on a chair.
2. Jared feels something drop into the pit of his stomach as he puts it together, and his face flushes. "You're asking me out," he says.
Jared hears a sigh over the phone, followed by a deep breath. "No, no I'm way too shy to ask out a guy I just met. I'm using my quirkiness ad distraction techniques to charm you into just humoring me and not actually making me go through with the asking part of it."
"So instead of asking me, you're telling me."
"Crippling shyness, Jared. Been a curse my entire life. Never got up the courage to ask for that dance with the prom king. Well, that could have been because the prom king took my little sister to my prom. That was an awkward limo drive. Oh! Okay so there's a showing of that movie with the exploding cars downtown near the school. Should we pick a time, even? I always go by 'the movie will start sometime after we get there' but I don't know if you're more into having a set schedule."
3. "Duct tape," Lucifer says. "It's really amazing stuff. I keep meaning to thank your side for that."
"We came up with duct tape after I had a nervous breakdown about fifty years ago and the cherubs had to restrain me. I kept snapping their chubby little wings off."
Lucifer's jaw drops so hard that it actually comes loose again, clanking on the floor. Which is a shame, because he really wants to make a smartass remark about how he forgot that Michael was kind of a sociopath. And how he thinks that's just dreamy.
"What? They grew back," Michael pouts.
4. There's a small noise, somewhere between a cough and a breath, light as air. But it doesn't come from Dean, Sam is sure of this, he's making heavier sounds, grunting when his injured leg tries to support any weight, muttering to himself, or maybe he is talking to Sam but Sam's not paying attention. His head is still swimming in that mid-euphoria brought on by nearly destroying the world and now seemingly having been saved from that fate.
Sam almost lets it go, only it happens again, the feather-light sigh, only now it's definitely not Dean, and it's not the sound of something crunching beneath the heel of his shoe, which Sam notes at one point were white loafers, now ash-gray and blood-tipped.
So, the devil wears white shoes after labor day.
5. Jensen looks back up at Jared. "Why don't I know you?"
"Well, why don't I know you?" Jared responds, perplexed.
Jensen's fingers touch his and he holds back a gasp, a shock at something so softly intimate as his fingertips touching Jared's, and somehow slowly slipping between his fingers, prying them off the glass. Jared watches in fascination as Jensen weaves his own fingers through Jared's and holds onto his wine glass, turning it to face the edge where the liquid still hangs on the rim, where Jared had drank from. And then lifting it, breaking free of Jared's grip to bring the wineglass to his own mouth.
Jared feels his face flush as Jensen brings his parted, wet lips to the glass and drinks, all the while obscene thoughts running through Jared's mind about that mouth and those lips and then Jensen's eyes slip shut as he sets the glass down and swallows, presses his lips together and seems to give a little satisfied nod to himself.
Jensen gives him a smile, not like the one from before, this one is the kind of smile that men get slapped in the face for because of the kinds of thoughts that lie behind it. He places another twenty dollars on the counter. He leaves without another word, all the while Jared stares at him.
"Weirdo," Jared concludes to himself when his rational brain returns to him, and he finishes both glasses before shutting off the lights and locking up the restaurant.
6. Dean makes a face at Sam. "Hilarious. I'm serious though, you two should learn how to be in a room together without it turning into a teleological fistfight."
"I think you mean 'theological', Dean."
"No, I meant teleological. As in you and Cas have fundamental differences of opinions regarding your ends and purposes in the universe and the appropriation and end means of God-your deism and belief clashing with his innate divinity, which has now been brought down to a more ontologically empirical level in your understanding-or something."
Sam blinks. "Did... Did Castiel tell you that?"
"What? No! The waitress I banged is a grad student. I got bored waiting for the pie to cool off, so I read through some of her notes."
Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh god, I did not need to know that the pie was fresh, Dean."
Happy Sunday!