waving your banner all over the place
For the third time in four days, I am having ice cream for lunch. I walked into the Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins and the girl behind the counter said, "Two scoop sundae, one vanilla, one chocolate, hot fudge, chocolate sprinkles." And I was like, "I really am that predictable."
I can't help it! Nothing else looks appetizing! And it's so yummy!
***
The DVD Commentary Challenge is live - go sign up to do a commentary, or to have one (or more) done of your stories! It's awesome!
***
From ignipes, the post snippets from all your WsIP meme:
from Mojo Filter, the Dean/Cordelia story that keeps getting backburnered:
"Where are we?" she asks.
"Bumfuck, Arkansas," the first guy answers.
"Wait. Buffy got to go to heaven when she died, and I got sent to Arkansas? That is so not fair."
*
from I Only Know When Someone Wants Me, the first Dean/Veronica story I started:
The blonde is leaning against the Impala when they come out of their room. "Sweet car," she says, arms crossed over her chest, her smile like a razor.
Dean grins, always pleased at praise for his baby, even when he knows there's something else going on. "You wanna go for a ride?"
Her smile doesn't falter; it gets even sharper, which he hadn't thought possible. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Maybe," slight shrug of a shoulder, "but nobody's ever complained."
"I bet they haven't."
"Okay, as much fun as it is to watch you two reenact Bogey and Bacall's first meeting," Sam says, "we've actually got work to do."
*
from This Thing of Ours - gen, casefile, set in the neighborhood I grew up in:
The neighborhood isn't quite what Dean expected. The picture in the article was of an unattached two-family house with faded pink and green siding and red brick steps leading to the front door, a neatly-kept garden in the front yard.
The reality is older, sadder, less bright. As they drive down Atlantic Avenue, a large number of the buildings are covered in graffiti, and all the houses wear a vague attitude of defeat, as if they've given up and are just waiting for the day a demolition crew shows up to put them to rest.
They turn onto McKinley Avenue, and the kids playing football in the dying afternoon scatter. There's a big square painted in the middle of the street, white lines faded, like nobody remembers how to play whatever game it was used for. Loud salsa music blares from a car parked on the corner, and three guys are drinking beer and peering under the hood, talking in Spanish too rapidly for Dean, with his two years of high school Spanish ten years ago, to follow.
*
from you've got to learn to live with what you can't rise above - futurefic, wincest
Dean's on line in the minimart attached to the Mobile station when Sam finds him. The back of his neck prickles, and he half-turns, unsure of what it is that's set his radar off, and Sam's there, looming large, using every inch of his height to intimidate. Before Dean can get any words out, because he honestly hadn't expected Sam to catch up with him for at least another twenty-four hours, Sam's fist crashes into his face.
The guy behind the counter is yelling and threatening to call 911, but Dean, hand clapped over the side of his face where Sam's freakishly large fist made impact, says, "No, no cops! It's okay. We were just leaving."
*
from And if that mockingbird don't sing - girl!Sam/Dean sekrit incest baby fic!
Once she's shoved everything she needs into her duffel, she writes a note, I have to go. It's too dangerous to stay. Please don't follow me. Love you. and tapes it to the television, where he'll be sure to see it.
She knows it won't keep him from following or freaking out when he wakes up and she's gone again, but it will at least give him some reassurance that she hasn't been possessed, or grabbed by vampires or whatever.
She takes half the money from the stash he thinks she doesn't know about, and leaves another note, this one an apology for everything she's put him through in the past, for what she's going to put him through in the future. No words can convey what she really feels, anyway, so it's futile, but she has to try. She leans over the bed and presses a kiss to his cheek. He doesn't stir, painkillers and exhaustion making him sleep like a baby. She slips out of the motel room before she can change her mind.
It's safer this way for both of them.
*
from the currently untitled girl!Sam five things AU:
He bends her forward, his hands curled around hers on the cue stick, and she can't help it, she wriggles back against him, ass pressed to his crotch, enjoying the quick intake of his breath and the way his fingers tighten over hers.
"That's dirty pool," he says, his voice rough and dark.
"Just checking to see if you were paying attention."
"Oh, honey, I'm riveted." That's a tone he's never used with her, and she starts to think maybe he doesn't recognize her--her hair is blonde now, her eyebrows plucked, her mouth painted pink. It's shocking enough to make her freeze for a second, that there could be a time or place where Dean doesn't know she's Sam.
"If you two aren't planning on playing--" A guy in khakis and a Gap button-down gives them a false smile; a second guy, wearing a beat up Raiders cap, hovers behind him.
Dean half-turns to face the guy, his right hand lingering on her hip, and says, "Oh, we're playing. You wanna take us on?"
And her doubts are chased away.
*
from Like God's Eyes In My Headlights, a Sam POV during WIAWSNB, currently gen, but who knows?
They have plans for this--their father was big on contingency, training them to always have back-up plans in place, code words and routines and strategies for tracking each other down when they get separated (Sam tries not to think about all the times they've gone into some dangerous situation without anything but salt and silver and the ridiculous belief that they couldn't be killed; how Dean still does it sometimes, even as smart and wary a hunter as he's become over the years)--but it's too soon, only an hour since Dean stopped answering his phone, and it could be anything from a bad battery to limited reception to a pretty girl with a willing mouth that's keeping Dean from answering. It doesn't have to be the djinn.
Sam just knows it is.
If he's wrong, he'll take the mocking happily, as long as Dean's okay.
*
from Some Things Are Gonna Cost You Extra, the one where Sam turns into a girl and it doesn't end happily:
When Dean gets back to the motel, there's a girl standing in the middle of the room, wearing one of Sam's shirts and nothing else.
He gives her a good long once-over, because her legs go on for days, and says, "Attaboy, Sammy," before heading back outside.
"Dean, wait." She grabs the doorknob, pulls the door back open. "It's me."
He turns and looks again--long legs, slim hips, Sam's bracelet on her wrist, and Sam's eyes peering out from beneath messy bangs.
"Son of a bitch."
"How do you think I feel?" Sam answers, shrill and panicked, and slams the door.
*
from She Got Down but She Never Got Tight, casefile featuring girl!Sam/Dean + strippers:
"Those girls are hard workers, providing a service to society. They deserve our protection."
"Uh huh."
"You're so judgmental. You should work on that."
"You know, there are strip clubs here in Akron. We don't have to drive all the way to Detroit for you to find busty chicks to ogle."
He raises an eyebrow. "Jealous, Samantha?"
"No." But her mouth twists, so he knows she's lying. He shouldn't find her jealousy hot, but he does.
He reaches out, paws playfully at her chest, and says, "Don't worry, baby. I won't ask you to get implants."
She smacks his hand away. "Dick."
"Yes, I know you love my dick, Sam. But we have a job to work, and can't get distracted."
She cuffs his arm, but laughs while she's doing it, so it's okay. "What. Ever."
*
From the untitled second Dean/Veronica story where they share office space as PIs:
"Hey, Sam and I are heading out to a haunting in Santa Rosa if you want to come."
She sat up, startled, dropping her feet down to the floor. "What?"
"Saves gas if we all go in one car, instead of you following me. Better for the environment." He rolled his eyes at the last bit, which was no surprise, given the gas-guzzler he drove.
Fuck. "I haven't--"
"We're burning daylight, V. Either you're in or you're out, but the whole stalking thing has got to stop. It's not safe."
"I'm not--"
"Of course not. Figure of speech. But since you're interested enough to bug my office--" he tossed the pen onto her desk-- "and follow me around in your little silver hybrid--" he made the words sound insulting-- "I thought you'd be interested enough to see what's really going on. But if you're afraid of the truth..." He left the dare hanging, knowing she couldn't resist.
She grabbed her keys and slung her bag over her shoulders. "Okay."
"I knew you were interested." Instead of waiting for the elevator, he led her down the four flights of stairs to the street.
"Professional interest only," she said.
"Of course, V. If that's what you have to tell yourself."
*
here's a random snippet that will probably end up folded into something else:
Some ghosts are never laid to rest. A salt and burn will get rid of the actual spirit, but the memories? They linger, haunting the living for years, and all that stuff about closure doesn't mean a thing in those cases. Sometimes the living are more stuck than the dead. Sometimes it's a quest for vengeance, sometimes it's a quest for peace. Always, it's a search for knowledge, for the why and the how and the what if? Anger, guilt, fear--Dean's seen them all, knows every reason up close and personal. He knows Sam still sees Jess in his dreams, and that those probably hurt worse than the nightmares. Sam never says anything, and yeah, it hurts less as time passes, but it never completely goes away. He wouldn't want it to, because when it does, Jess is truly dead.
*
from Motels, Money, Murder, Madness, the casefile that's based on the HLotS ep "Full Moon":
The cops are marking off the room with yellow crime scene tape. They send the ambulance away empty, call in for a coroner's van and a homicide detective, announce that nobody can leave until the detective arrives, and then stand around for half an hour waiting. Dean finds a girl to talk to, of course, a tiny Asian woman in a silky bathrobe, her black hair streaked with bright pink that matches her robe, and her earrings flashing silver in the light of the squad car.
Sam shoves his hands into his pockets and drifts closer to the cops, listens to them chatter, catching fragments and phrases--regular customer and poor bastard hanged himself and remember that case back in ninety-six? and they never did find the boot.
The detectives--there are two, a young white guy and an older black guy--finally arrive, and Dean eases back to Sam's side, is there when the black guy--Detective Roberts, he says, comes over to get their statement.
*
and, of course, my spn_harlequin story, Miss Winchester's Unsuitable Suitor, which is girl!Sam/Dean set in Regency England:
"Miss Winchester," he reached out for her hand, but she had her handkerchief out now, and dabbed her nose in as ladylike manner as she could. "Or may I call you Samantha? In the year that I've known you, I have become most smitten by your charms." He slid gracefully to one knee and grabbed hold of her hand, disregarding the handkerchief. His skin was cool and dry, and Sam had to steel herself not to pull away. "Would you do me the singular honor of becoming my wife?"
Sam froze, trying to keep the smile from sliding off her face. "While I am conscious of the honor you do me," she began, glancing at Aunt Ellen, who looked as dismayed as Sam felt, "I'm afraid I must decline your offer." She swallowed, her mouth dry with inexplicable fear. "I've just had news of my brother, and I believe that once we are reunited, we'll be sailing back to America."
"I see." His eyes seemed to flash yellow for a moment, and she shivered. "You've made your home here in England for the past four years. Surely--"
"I have, and I have made many good friends here, but it is not home, Mr. Iblis, and I long for home." For Dean, but she dared not say that. He would want her to be strong now, to square her shoulders and hold back the shiver of revulsion she felt at the thought of being married to Iblis, of letting him put his hands on her person, and so she did.
*
I think that's it for now. At least that I have actual verbiage for, and not just a chat transcript pasted into a word document.
***
I can't help it! Nothing else looks appetizing! And it's so yummy!
***
The DVD Commentary Challenge is live - go sign up to do a commentary, or to have one (or more) done of your stories! It's awesome!
***
From ignipes, the post snippets from all your WsIP meme:
from Mojo Filter, the Dean/Cordelia story that keeps getting backburnered:
"Where are we?" she asks.
"Bumfuck, Arkansas," the first guy answers.
"Wait. Buffy got to go to heaven when she died, and I got sent to Arkansas? That is so not fair."
*
from I Only Know When Someone Wants Me, the first Dean/Veronica story I started:
The blonde is leaning against the Impala when they come out of their room. "Sweet car," she says, arms crossed over her chest, her smile like a razor.
Dean grins, always pleased at praise for his baby, even when he knows there's something else going on. "You wanna go for a ride?"
Her smile doesn't falter; it gets even sharper, which he hadn't thought possible. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Maybe," slight shrug of a shoulder, "but nobody's ever complained."
"I bet they haven't."
"Okay, as much fun as it is to watch you two reenact Bogey and Bacall's first meeting," Sam says, "we've actually got work to do."
*
from This Thing of Ours - gen, casefile, set in the neighborhood I grew up in:
The neighborhood isn't quite what Dean expected. The picture in the article was of an unattached two-family house with faded pink and green siding and red brick steps leading to the front door, a neatly-kept garden in the front yard.
The reality is older, sadder, less bright. As they drive down Atlantic Avenue, a large number of the buildings are covered in graffiti, and all the houses wear a vague attitude of defeat, as if they've given up and are just waiting for the day a demolition crew shows up to put them to rest.
They turn onto McKinley Avenue, and the kids playing football in the dying afternoon scatter. There's a big square painted in the middle of the street, white lines faded, like nobody remembers how to play whatever game it was used for. Loud salsa music blares from a car parked on the corner, and three guys are drinking beer and peering under the hood, talking in Spanish too rapidly for Dean, with his two years of high school Spanish ten years ago, to follow.
*
from you've got to learn to live with what you can't rise above - futurefic, wincest
Dean's on line in the minimart attached to the Mobile station when Sam finds him. The back of his neck prickles, and he half-turns, unsure of what it is that's set his radar off, and Sam's there, looming large, using every inch of his height to intimidate. Before Dean can get any words out, because he honestly hadn't expected Sam to catch up with him for at least another twenty-four hours, Sam's fist crashes into his face.
The guy behind the counter is yelling and threatening to call 911, but Dean, hand clapped over the side of his face where Sam's freakishly large fist made impact, says, "No, no cops! It's okay. We were just leaving."
*
from And if that mockingbird don't sing - girl!Sam/Dean sekrit incest baby fic!
Once she's shoved everything she needs into her duffel, she writes a note, I have to go. It's too dangerous to stay. Please don't follow me. Love you. and tapes it to the television, where he'll be sure to see it.
She knows it won't keep him from following or freaking out when he wakes up and she's gone again, but it will at least give him some reassurance that she hasn't been possessed, or grabbed by vampires or whatever.
She takes half the money from the stash he thinks she doesn't know about, and leaves another note, this one an apology for everything she's put him through in the past, for what she's going to put him through in the future. No words can convey what she really feels, anyway, so it's futile, but she has to try. She leans over the bed and presses a kiss to his cheek. He doesn't stir, painkillers and exhaustion making him sleep like a baby. She slips out of the motel room before she can change her mind.
It's safer this way for both of them.
*
from the currently untitled girl!Sam five things AU:
He bends her forward, his hands curled around hers on the cue stick, and she can't help it, she wriggles back against him, ass pressed to his crotch, enjoying the quick intake of his breath and the way his fingers tighten over hers.
"That's dirty pool," he says, his voice rough and dark.
"Just checking to see if you were paying attention."
"Oh, honey, I'm riveted." That's a tone he's never used with her, and she starts to think maybe he doesn't recognize her--her hair is blonde now, her eyebrows plucked, her mouth painted pink. It's shocking enough to make her freeze for a second, that there could be a time or place where Dean doesn't know she's Sam.
"If you two aren't planning on playing--" A guy in khakis and a Gap button-down gives them a false smile; a second guy, wearing a beat up Raiders cap, hovers behind him.
Dean half-turns to face the guy, his right hand lingering on her hip, and says, "Oh, we're playing. You wanna take us on?"
And her doubts are chased away.
*
from Like God's Eyes In My Headlights, a Sam POV during WIAWSNB, currently gen, but who knows?
They have plans for this--their father was big on contingency, training them to always have back-up plans in place, code words and routines and strategies for tracking each other down when they get separated (Sam tries not to think about all the times they've gone into some dangerous situation without anything but salt and silver and the ridiculous belief that they couldn't be killed; how Dean still does it sometimes, even as smart and wary a hunter as he's become over the years)--but it's too soon, only an hour since Dean stopped answering his phone, and it could be anything from a bad battery to limited reception to a pretty girl with a willing mouth that's keeping Dean from answering. It doesn't have to be the djinn.
Sam just knows it is.
If he's wrong, he'll take the mocking happily, as long as Dean's okay.
*
from Some Things Are Gonna Cost You Extra, the one where Sam turns into a girl and it doesn't end happily:
When Dean gets back to the motel, there's a girl standing in the middle of the room, wearing one of Sam's shirts and nothing else.
He gives her a good long once-over, because her legs go on for days, and says, "Attaboy, Sammy," before heading back outside.
"Dean, wait." She grabs the doorknob, pulls the door back open. "It's me."
He turns and looks again--long legs, slim hips, Sam's bracelet on her wrist, and Sam's eyes peering out from beneath messy bangs.
"Son of a bitch."
"How do you think I feel?" Sam answers, shrill and panicked, and slams the door.
*
from She Got Down but She Never Got Tight, casefile featuring girl!Sam/Dean + strippers:
"Those girls are hard workers, providing a service to society. They deserve our protection."
"Uh huh."
"You're so judgmental. You should work on that."
"You know, there are strip clubs here in Akron. We don't have to drive all the way to Detroit for you to find busty chicks to ogle."
He raises an eyebrow. "Jealous, Samantha?"
"No." But her mouth twists, so he knows she's lying. He shouldn't find her jealousy hot, but he does.
He reaches out, paws playfully at her chest, and says, "Don't worry, baby. I won't ask you to get implants."
She smacks his hand away. "Dick."
"Yes, I know you love my dick, Sam. But we have a job to work, and can't get distracted."
She cuffs his arm, but laughs while she's doing it, so it's okay. "What. Ever."
*
From the untitled second Dean/Veronica story where they share office space as PIs:
"Hey, Sam and I are heading out to a haunting in Santa Rosa if you want to come."
She sat up, startled, dropping her feet down to the floor. "What?"
"Saves gas if we all go in one car, instead of you following me. Better for the environment." He rolled his eyes at the last bit, which was no surprise, given the gas-guzzler he drove.
Fuck. "I haven't--"
"We're burning daylight, V. Either you're in or you're out, but the whole stalking thing has got to stop. It's not safe."
"I'm not--"
"Of course not. Figure of speech. But since you're interested enough to bug my office--" he tossed the pen onto her desk-- "and follow me around in your little silver hybrid--" he made the words sound insulting-- "I thought you'd be interested enough to see what's really going on. But if you're afraid of the truth..." He left the dare hanging, knowing she couldn't resist.
She grabbed her keys and slung her bag over her shoulders. "Okay."
"I knew you were interested." Instead of waiting for the elevator, he led her down the four flights of stairs to the street.
"Professional interest only," she said.
"Of course, V. If that's what you have to tell yourself."
*
here's a random snippet that will probably end up folded into something else:
Some ghosts are never laid to rest. A salt and burn will get rid of the actual spirit, but the memories? They linger, haunting the living for years, and all that stuff about closure doesn't mean a thing in those cases. Sometimes the living are more stuck than the dead. Sometimes it's a quest for vengeance, sometimes it's a quest for peace. Always, it's a search for knowledge, for the why and the how and the what if? Anger, guilt, fear--Dean's seen them all, knows every reason up close and personal. He knows Sam still sees Jess in his dreams, and that those probably hurt worse than the nightmares. Sam never says anything, and yeah, it hurts less as time passes, but it never completely goes away. He wouldn't want it to, because when it does, Jess is truly dead.
*
from Motels, Money, Murder, Madness, the casefile that's based on the HLotS ep "Full Moon":
The cops are marking off the room with yellow crime scene tape. They send the ambulance away empty, call in for a coroner's van and a homicide detective, announce that nobody can leave until the detective arrives, and then stand around for half an hour waiting. Dean finds a girl to talk to, of course, a tiny Asian woman in a silky bathrobe, her black hair streaked with bright pink that matches her robe, and her earrings flashing silver in the light of the squad car.
Sam shoves his hands into his pockets and drifts closer to the cops, listens to them chatter, catching fragments and phrases--regular customer and poor bastard hanged himself and remember that case back in ninety-six? and they never did find the boot.
The detectives--there are two, a young white guy and an older black guy--finally arrive, and Dean eases back to Sam's side, is there when the black guy--Detective Roberts, he says, comes over to get their statement.
*
and, of course, my spn_harlequin story, Miss Winchester's Unsuitable Suitor, which is girl!Sam/Dean set in Regency England:
"Miss Winchester," he reached out for her hand, but she had her handkerchief out now, and dabbed her nose in as ladylike manner as she could. "Or may I call you Samantha? In the year that I've known you, I have become most smitten by your charms." He slid gracefully to one knee and grabbed hold of her hand, disregarding the handkerchief. His skin was cool and dry, and Sam had to steel herself not to pull away. "Would you do me the singular honor of becoming my wife?"
Sam froze, trying to keep the smile from sliding off her face. "While I am conscious of the honor you do me," she began, glancing at Aunt Ellen, who looked as dismayed as Sam felt, "I'm afraid I must decline your offer." She swallowed, her mouth dry with inexplicable fear. "I've just had news of my brother, and I believe that once we are reunited, we'll be sailing back to America."
"I see." His eyes seemed to flash yellow for a moment, and she shivered. "You've made your home here in England for the past four years. Surely--"
"I have, and I have made many good friends here, but it is not home, Mr. Iblis, and I long for home." For Dean, but she dared not say that. He would want her to be strong now, to square her shoulders and hold back the shiver of revulsion she felt at the thought of being married to Iblis, of letting him put his hands on her person, and so she did.
*
I think that's it for now. At least that I have actual verbiage for, and not just a chat transcript pasted into a word document.
***