(fic talk)
I'm currently working on finishing my Reverse Bang which is a departure from form for me (it's gen.The genniest gen that ever genned it's way across a genscape.) I'm also starting work on chapter four of 'No Choice in the Matter' which is coming along more easily now thankfully. I'm glad it stops at 5/5 though, I don't think it has legs for much more.
Now anyone who knows me knows that it's not so much that I do well under pressure, and more that for bizarre reasons I put myself under it accidentally by signing up for too much. Well, because not unlike Pokemon, this fandom appears to be 'gotta catch them all,' on top of my RBB, j2spn_xmas, unnamed exchange, Yuuuuletide, and the ever growing list of things I Must Write, I am also bandying around some ideas. I can't write them all, or I'd die from lack of brainfunction, but I can afford one right?
These are my current favourites:
- Sam and Amelia. A love lost-story in five cocktails
- Sam and Cas fuck a lot. Dean throws pillows at them, lends them lube and brushes his teeth in the bathroom as they bang in the bedroom. It's not crack.
- That prompt off the kink-meme about Cas crawling in with Sam, and just lying there ;_;
- Dean's losing memories. One or two at a time, and no-one knows (for obvious reasons) until Sam drags up something big from their childhood and discovers Dean doesn't remember it. It's a race against time to retrieve his memories (can't be written until Jan at earliest though.)
- Sequel to 'Build Them Up (With Worn-out Tools)
- All the cracky J2 stuff in the world.
- Sequel to Underneath, it itches still (mmm for all the Jeff/Jared needs)
- That Gen/Misha AU where she's a primary school head, and he's head of the PTA. I wrote 400 words of that.
I’m going to hell, Misha thought silently. No question about it at all. None. In his capacity as head of the local PTO for Sunny Pines elementary school, he’d attended more of these meetings than he liked to think about and parents talked more about their children than anyone else he’d ever met talked about anything. It was like they were being paid by the minute for it, and the parents of Sunny Pine were particularly enthusiastic workers. Which was a good thing in some ways and at least he wasn’t the one who had to take minutes.
It was a bad thing when they relied on him to liaise with the head teacher though, who he hated from the top of her glossy head (the rumour in the under-thirty set was that an exec from L’Oreal had offered her a contract after seeing her run in slow-motion to catch the school bus,) to the ridiculously high heels she wore that made her exceptional legs go on forever and a day much like her screeds on education. There was something about her that made his blood boil, and not from sexual frustration, but more in a constant tooth-grinding way with every word she dropped about how much more natural it was to teach children to spell phonetically, or how, really, quiet hour was an excellent invention.
He wasn’t going to forget the time, he told himself grimly that she’d patted him on the arm, and thanked him for organising such a marvellous bake sale, and then had the gall to say how lovely it must be to have time to cook such fascinating little cakes. The cupcakes had not been a success it was true, apparently they were meant to be edible not classified as the primary school version of WMDs but he’d tried goddammit, and screw Trisha’s muffins anyway.
Who the fuck -flip- he mentally corrected himself, (stopping swearing was hard, but you had an incredible incentive to do so when the consequence was your sweet little kid repeating what you said in the supermarket; however proud you might, some things you don’t want to share with the cashier) wanted giant double chocolate with white choc chips muffins anyway?