familiar faces, worn out places
My dad has benevolently passed onto me the secret of getting chewing gum out of clothes, which mostly seems to involve smothering it out with fun chemicals. Which I've kind of inhaled the fumes of a bit, and now I have a headache! And also de-gummed jeans, so HOORAY.
01. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
02. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
03. Write a ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the ficlet; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!
04. Do ten of these, then post them.
Needless to say, I went for the Supernatural. All gen (one day, guys. One day I'll do some incest), a happy variety of pre-series, current and future, plus some evil Sam.
1. Michael Andrews- Liquid Spear Waltz
He’s been pretty quiet all day, fidgeting agitatedly with his breakfast, spending more time staring out the window looking like someone’s kicked his puppy than eating his home fries. Which is a pity, ‘cause they’re delicious.
Dean snags a couple off the edge Sam’s plate, and waves them in his face. “Dude,” he says. “Start talking, or I’m putting these in your shoes when you’re sleeping.”
“Dean, I-“ Sam starts, finally. And then he stops again, pulling a face.
“C’mon, man, you can tell me anything.”
Sam pauses, and takes a deep breath. “Dean... do you believe in time-travel?”
2. hellogoodbye- Baby, It’s Fact
Dean announces his arrival by kicking the door open. It probably says a lot about his life that Sam doesn’t even jump, just glances up from his book and says, “Hey.”
“Honey, I’m home. And I brought snacks. Catch,” he throws something brightly coloured at Sam’s head, dumps his own haul onto his bed, and sets about tugging off his boots. They’re still coated in mud from the thing with the ghost crocodile.
Sam rubs at his forehead, tugging open the packet of M&Ms. “You didn’t get peanut ones?”
“Nah,” Dean shrugs, fiddling with his shoelaces. “I know you don’t like ‘em.”
It’s oddly touching, somehow.
3. They Might Be Giants- Monster
It is, by the way, really fucking hard to find a werewolf at a Hallowe’en party.
“I swear they’re getting smarter,” Dean whispers to himself, pushing through the crowd of dancing skeletons and ghosts and sexy librarians.
This would be so much easier if Sam were here, he doesn’t quite let himself think.
4. Regina Spektor- Hallelujah
They drive away from the devil’s gate in silence. The car feels too small, for the first time in Dean’s whole fucking life. The silence is heavy as smoke, filling all available space.
“What did you do, Sam?” he whispers, eyes on his hands on the wheel.
Sam shrugs, staring at him, still staring at him, like Dean’ll fade away without eyes on him. “I got you out.”
There are fires in the distance. This doesn’t feel like escape.
5. Dave Matthews Band- Dancing Nancies
“I got a date to the prom,” Sam blurts out over dinner, the words just spilling out of his mouth like he can’t hold them in any longer.
Dean pauses, trying to figure out his brother’s face. Sam doesn’t look excited, or whatever the fuck prom-dates are meant to incite. Mostly he just looks nervous and young. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“She’s called Sandy,” Sam moans, dumping his chin in his hand, meal forgotten, “and she’s got a 3.8 GPA, and I sit next to her in English, and she- and I-”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Use your words, Sammy.”
It seems to work, Sam calming down enough to rub a hand across his face and shoot Dean a shifty glance. “I don’t know what to do. I. Do I have to dance, Dean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably.” He shrugs. What the fuck does he know about proms?
“I don’t know how,” whispers Sam miserably.
“Dude, you can shoot a ghoul at twenty paces. You can do that, you can do anything.”
6. Snow Patrol- Chasing Cars
The town fades away into the distance as Sam watches it in the rear-view mirror, until all that’s left is a smear on the horizon. Another day saved.
“You think she’ll be okay?” he asks, eyes shifting across to his brother. Dean looks surprised.
“Of course she will be,” he says. There isn’t room in his voice for an ounce of doubt.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam murmurs. Dean’s still watching him, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, settling back in his seat. The sun’s in front of them, making the road shine like a fairytale.
The music’s turned down low on the radio. Sam reaches out and turns it up.
7. Jane Monheit- Moon River
Five fucking hours since they got into this town, and the rain still hasn’t let up. Not that it makes any difference when they’re dealing with a haunted fucking river.
“Dammit, Sam!” Dean roars, and he can barely hear his own voice. “Where the fuck are you?”
He splashes further down the river, each move like fucking treacle with his jeans weighing him down. The trees are thick and dark on either side of the bank, and the rain is like a curtain anyway. He can barely see his hands an inch in front of his face, and somewhere out there is the ghost of Jeremiah Glassock needing to be found.
Somewhere out there is his brother.
8. David Gray- Say Hello Wave Goodbye
He follows Sam along the road for half an hour, crawling at a snail’s pace. It’s late enough, the town small enough, that there’s nobody else around to give a damn how slow he’s driving.
“Come on, Sammy,” he says.
Sam doesn’t even look up, the little shit, head down and shoulders hunched, more focussed on his bags than his own damn brother. Dean might as well not even exist.
“Sammy,” he says again, hopelessly. “I’m not gonna take you home, okay? I just. It’s getting dark. Let me-”
“Dad won’t be happy,” Sam says, his first words since he started walking.
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Dean offers. He cracks a grin, which probably looks as stupid as it feels.
Sam snorts, keeps right on walking. “This is so fucked up, Dean. This is our family, where you- you can’t even give your brother a lift to college without it having to be a secret.”
This is so stupid. This is so fucking stupid. Dean shakes his head, searching for the words. “We’re not the only family that fights, Sam.”
“It’s not about that,” Sam says. He looks away, shielding his eyes against the non-existence sun, and there’s an edge to his jaw that is just too fucking old for little Sammy.
9. Rilo Kiley- Jenny, You’re Barely Alive (Objects)
“So, Jenny- I can call you Jenny, right?” the guy laughs, words coming out too quick, pacing back and forth like every second stationary is a second wasted. “Of course I can. So, Jenny, the thing is- this isn’t anything personal, you understand? I’m sure you’re a nice girl.”
He’s on something, Jenny thinks through the dull haze of fear. She can barely move, he’s tied her so tight. He’s got to be on something.
“So this isn’t about you at all, really. You’re just the, oh, what do you call it? You’re the bait, Jenny.” He leans right down close to her face, folded practically in half he’s that tall, and he whispers, “Don’t worry, Dean’ll be here soon.”
He smiles, smiles, smiles.
10. The Frames- A Caution to the Birds
“This is weird,” Dean observes, face to the glass. “I mean, we’ve seen some weird shit in our lives, but this just gets the gold medal of bizarre.”
Sam’s eyes are starting to ache from the glow of the laptop. “How many are there?” he asks without looking up.
“Hundreds, man. Maybe thousands? I don’t know.” Sam can feel his tension, so thick it’s almost tangible. Dean’s shoulders are stiff against the window, fingers drumming like he can’t find the right turn off. “Fucking Hitchcock.”
“We’ll find something,” Sam says. He pushes away from the table, leaving the laptop to whir its way through loading the next dozen pages, and nudges Dean with an elbow. “They’re just birds, right?”
Dean snorts, shaking his head. “They better not scratch up my car, is all I’m sayin’.”
(My favourite one, for the record, is 9.)
01. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
02. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
03. Write a ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the ficlet; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!
04. Do ten of these, then post them.
Needless to say, I went for the Supernatural. All gen (one day, guys. One day I'll do some incest), a happy variety of pre-series, current and future, plus some evil Sam.
1. Michael Andrews- Liquid Spear Waltz
He’s been pretty quiet all day, fidgeting agitatedly with his breakfast, spending more time staring out the window looking like someone’s kicked his puppy than eating his home fries. Which is a pity, ‘cause they’re delicious.
Dean snags a couple off the edge Sam’s plate, and waves them in his face. “Dude,” he says. “Start talking, or I’m putting these in your shoes when you’re sleeping.”
“Dean, I-“ Sam starts, finally. And then he stops again, pulling a face.
“C’mon, man, you can tell me anything.”
Sam pauses, and takes a deep breath. “Dean... do you believe in time-travel?”
2. hellogoodbye- Baby, It’s Fact
Dean announces his arrival by kicking the door open. It probably says a lot about his life that Sam doesn’t even jump, just glances up from his book and says, “Hey.”
“Honey, I’m home. And I brought snacks. Catch,” he throws something brightly coloured at Sam’s head, dumps his own haul onto his bed, and sets about tugging off his boots. They’re still coated in mud from the thing with the ghost crocodile.
Sam rubs at his forehead, tugging open the packet of M&Ms. “You didn’t get peanut ones?”
“Nah,” Dean shrugs, fiddling with his shoelaces. “I know you don’t like ‘em.”
It’s oddly touching, somehow.
3. They Might Be Giants- Monster
It is, by the way, really fucking hard to find a werewolf at a Hallowe’en party.
“I swear they’re getting smarter,” Dean whispers to himself, pushing through the crowd of dancing skeletons and ghosts and sexy librarians.
This would be so much easier if Sam were here, he doesn’t quite let himself think.
4. Regina Spektor- Hallelujah
They drive away from the devil’s gate in silence. The car feels too small, for the first time in Dean’s whole fucking life. The silence is heavy as smoke, filling all available space.
“What did you do, Sam?” he whispers, eyes on his hands on the wheel.
Sam shrugs, staring at him, still staring at him, like Dean’ll fade away without eyes on him. “I got you out.”
There are fires in the distance. This doesn’t feel like escape.
5. Dave Matthews Band- Dancing Nancies
“I got a date to the prom,” Sam blurts out over dinner, the words just spilling out of his mouth like he can’t hold them in any longer.
Dean pauses, trying to figure out his brother’s face. Sam doesn’t look excited, or whatever the fuck prom-dates are meant to incite. Mostly he just looks nervous and young. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“She’s called Sandy,” Sam moans, dumping his chin in his hand, meal forgotten, “and she’s got a 3.8 GPA, and I sit next to her in English, and she- and I-”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Use your words, Sammy.”
It seems to work, Sam calming down enough to rub a hand across his face and shoot Dean a shifty glance. “I don’t know what to do. I. Do I have to dance, Dean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably.” He shrugs. What the fuck does he know about proms?
“I don’t know how,” whispers Sam miserably.
“Dude, you can shoot a ghoul at twenty paces. You can do that, you can do anything.”
6. Snow Patrol- Chasing Cars
The town fades away into the distance as Sam watches it in the rear-view mirror, until all that’s left is a smear on the horizon. Another day saved.
“You think she’ll be okay?” he asks, eyes shifting across to his brother. Dean looks surprised.
“Of course she will be,” he says. There isn’t room in his voice for an ounce of doubt.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam murmurs. Dean’s still watching him, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, settling back in his seat. The sun’s in front of them, making the road shine like a fairytale.
The music’s turned down low on the radio. Sam reaches out and turns it up.
7. Jane Monheit- Moon River
Five fucking hours since they got into this town, and the rain still hasn’t let up. Not that it makes any difference when they’re dealing with a haunted fucking river.
“Dammit, Sam!” Dean roars, and he can barely hear his own voice. “Where the fuck are you?”
He splashes further down the river, each move like fucking treacle with his jeans weighing him down. The trees are thick and dark on either side of the bank, and the rain is like a curtain anyway. He can barely see his hands an inch in front of his face, and somewhere out there is the ghost of Jeremiah Glassock needing to be found.
Somewhere out there is his brother.
8. David Gray- Say Hello Wave Goodbye
He follows Sam along the road for half an hour, crawling at a snail’s pace. It’s late enough, the town small enough, that there’s nobody else around to give a damn how slow he’s driving.
“Come on, Sammy,” he says.
Sam doesn’t even look up, the little shit, head down and shoulders hunched, more focussed on his bags than his own damn brother. Dean might as well not even exist.
“Sammy,” he says again, hopelessly. “I’m not gonna take you home, okay? I just. It’s getting dark. Let me-”
“Dad won’t be happy,” Sam says, his first words since he started walking.
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Dean offers. He cracks a grin, which probably looks as stupid as it feels.
Sam snorts, keeps right on walking. “This is so fucked up, Dean. This is our family, where you- you can’t even give your brother a lift to college without it having to be a secret.”
This is so stupid. This is so fucking stupid. Dean shakes his head, searching for the words. “We’re not the only family that fights, Sam.”
“It’s not about that,” Sam says. He looks away, shielding his eyes against the non-existence sun, and there’s an edge to his jaw that is just too fucking old for little Sammy.
9. Rilo Kiley- Jenny, You’re Barely Alive (Objects)
“So, Jenny- I can call you Jenny, right?” the guy laughs, words coming out too quick, pacing back and forth like every second stationary is a second wasted. “Of course I can. So, Jenny, the thing is- this isn’t anything personal, you understand? I’m sure you’re a nice girl.”
He’s on something, Jenny thinks through the dull haze of fear. She can barely move, he’s tied her so tight. He’s got to be on something.
“So this isn’t about you at all, really. You’re just the, oh, what do you call it? You’re the bait, Jenny.” He leans right down close to her face, folded practically in half he’s that tall, and he whispers, “Don’t worry, Dean’ll be here soon.”
He smiles, smiles, smiles.
10. The Frames- A Caution to the Birds
“This is weird,” Dean observes, face to the glass. “I mean, we’ve seen some weird shit in our lives, but this just gets the gold medal of bizarre.”
Sam’s eyes are starting to ache from the glow of the laptop. “How many are there?” he asks without looking up.
“Hundreds, man. Maybe thousands? I don’t know.” Sam can feel his tension, so thick it’s almost tangible. Dean’s shoulders are stiff against the window, fingers drumming like he can’t find the right turn off. “Fucking Hitchcock.”
“We’ll find something,” Sam says. He pushes away from the table, leaving the laptop to whir its way through loading the next dozen pages, and nudges Dean with an elbow. “They’re just birds, right?”
Dean snorts, shaking his head. “They better not scratch up my car, is all I’m sayin’.”
(My favourite one, for the record, is 9.)