Dean gets out of Purgatory and he can see the gaps in the real world where the pieces don't fit together. Things are peeking through the gap--eyestalks and squirmy tentacles and bits of fingers, long scaled bodies slithering by, etc. And it's hard to explain how 'the walls don't fit the ceiling, Sam.' So he doesn't say anything and goes about his business. But he knows he's seeing Purgatory, and worries that eventually something's going to reach through a gap and drag him back.
OKAY SO, I should have been in bed hours ago and this kind of just spilled out on the paper sans any actual plot, so I may go back and have actual things happen in it later, but FOR NOW, have a little atmospheric thingy:
Filled: Where the Sidewalk Ends, Gen, PG-13, (1/1)
It's not so much the flashes of dark and movement and teeth that get to him. Dean can handle those. Hell, he can handle anything this or the next world throws at him, he's proven that over and over, time and time and time again. So, no, it doesn't bother him when the world curls back in his peripheral vision, like it's nothing more than old wallpaper flaking away with every passing breeze. It's okay that he sometimes recognizes the shapes on the other side, the particular cant of a werewolf soul's snout, the flex and snap of the tentacled thing that haunts bogs and swamps, sending out will-o-the-wisp lures. (Sam thinks they're fireflies. When he was small, he used to chase them, and Dean doesn't have the heart to tell him how close he's come to falling off the edge
( ... )
Eee! This is *awesome,* really fantastically atmospheric, and full of those fabulous details that make the skin crawl. And these days I'm less entertained by the whole 'is it real or is it all in his head?' thing, but it works really well here and felt fresh and new again. I think because the sense of genuine menace is so palpable. The part about Sam maybe losing his hand was what got me, I think, and that idea of razor-sharp somethings and human vulnerability. Brr. And also the exploration of the fact that Dean's now visited four different realms of existence and been in each long enough to know them as well as his home. Really nice. I love it.
If you *were* to expand on this, of course I'd be thrilled. *bambi eyes* Thank you so much for the awesome fill!
My writing brain has been rather fickle, lately, which is why I was so thrilled to get even this much out last night, but then I was up for another half an hour with a mind full of possible sceneage for this, so it might go further this weekend.
Trying to avoid too much "is it real? is it in his head?" is where the smell thing came in. I'm fascinated by the sense of smell and the way it triggers the human brain, and I felt it added a bit more of a punch to it all, another level of reality for Dean at least -- it's not something you can express that well in television, so we have no idea if Sam got smellovision in his Lucifer hallucinations, but I like to think maybe he didn't, and the smell really does confirm for Dean that while Sam's not seeing it, it's really there.
(Sam thinks they're fireflies. When he was small, he used to chase them, and Dean doesn't have the heart to tell him how close he's come to falling off the edge of everything.)
Oooh, man, so *very* creepy! I love it. *shudder*
I don't sleep with any part of me off the mattress. *clings to pillow*
It's wild to get a visual picture in my head of a smell. The descriptions are amazing as is the idea that the decaying smell of Purgatory is bleeding through. It's really tough to know here if Dean really sees Purgatory breaking through or if it's all in his head. Very creepy.
Dean gets out of Purgatory and he can see the gaps in the real world where the pieces don't fit together. Things are peeking through the gap--eyestalks and squirmy tentacles and bits of fingers, long scaled bodies slithering by, etc. And it's hard to explain how 'the walls don't fit the ceiling, Sam.' So he doesn't say anything and goes about his business. But he knows he's seeing Purgatory, and worries that eventually something's going to reach through a gap and drag him back.
Gen please.
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Filled: Where the Sidewalk Ends, Gen, PG-13, (1/1)
It's not so much the flashes of dark and movement and teeth that get to him. Dean can handle those. Hell, he can handle anything this or the next world throws at him, he's proven that over and over, time and time and time again. So, no, it doesn't bother him when the world curls back in his peripheral vision, like it's nothing more than old wallpaper flaking away with every passing breeze. It's okay that he sometimes recognizes the shapes on the other side, the particular cant of a werewolf soul's snout, the flex and snap of the tentacled thing that haunts bogs and swamps, sending out will-o-the-wisp lures. (Sam thinks they're fireflies. When he was small, he used to chase them, and Dean doesn't have the heart to tell him how close he's come to falling off the edge ( ... )
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If you *were* to expand on this, of course I'd be thrilled. *bambi eyes* Thank you so much for the awesome fill!
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Trying to avoid too much "is it real? is it in his head?" is where the smell thing came in. I'm fascinated by the sense of smell and the way it triggers the human brain, and I felt it added a bit more of a punch to it all, another level of reality for Dean at least -- it's not something you can express that well in television, so we have no idea if Sam got smellovision in his Lucifer hallucinations, but I like to think maybe he didn't, and the smell really does confirm for Dean that while Sam's not seeing it, it's really there.
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Oooh, man, so *very* creepy! I love it.
*shudder*
I don't sleep with any part of me off the mattress.
*clings to pillow*
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These days, I'll dangle my feet off the end with abandon. ;D
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