#jfc I have actually sat and finished this wip

[dont-turn-off-the-light]

Danny and Frank

(They've found you OH NO)

[venhedish]

I unleash the Fanfiction Asks upon you!

👻 👀 🖊️ 😈

OMG Tumblr ate my response before I could save the draft. Pulling my hair out jfc.

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up? @hotgirlsummersam and I started co-writing a fic for Dean's birthday back in January, but we didn't finish in time. Who knows if it'll ever see the light of day. It's a Stanford era fic about Sam getting Bobby to call Dean about a haunting on campus that just so happens to coincide with his birthday. Here's a little snippet from one of my sections (I wrote Sam, Kal wrote Dean):

Sam spent the rest of the night fitful and on edge. He kept sliding out of bed and staring out the window as if Dean might be waiting there on the pavement below. When he did finally sleep, his dreams were gauzy and oppressive, rumbling with the deep bass of the Impala's engine. He’d wake over and over and think the noise was real, like a kid who’d woken up early on Christmas in time to sneak down the stairs and see what Santa left the night before – jangling with an excitement that almost bordered on nausea.

But it wasn’t real; it was just the distant sound of the freeway, or the old radiator kicking into life, or the muffed music from the dorm below shaking through the walls.

He climbed out of bed for the last time around 3am, giving up the ghost. Instead, he sat in silence at his desk in the dark, sweat clinging to his chest, and wondered if what he was waiting for would ever actually come to pass – if he’d feel better or worse when it finally did.

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about? Not really, no. I tend to get around to publishing most of the fics I actually start writing, but I do have one that I ended up being really unhappy with that won't ever go anywhere. It's about Sam being wistful about the past while he and Dean investigate a string of cattle mutilations. Here's like the only section that has any redeeming qualities:

Which is the reason why he’s staring through the dusty windshield at the haphazard pile of about ten dead cows just inside the barnyard of Happy Moos Dairy. He’s wearing a suit that’s already making sweat collect in damp patches at his armpits and the small of his back; It’s July in New Mexico and the shitty SUV doesn’t have AC. There’s a laminated ID in his left pocket that identifies him as DVM Michael Aday, bovine specialist, CDC (Dean had snorted as they worked the alias up. “Dude. Get it? It’s Meatloaf!” Sam had tried to explain to him that they were dairy cows, but it didn’t seem to matter). In the right pocket, there's a pair of blue nitrile gloves and a container of Vicks to help with the smell. He frowns in deep dissatisfaction.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. Sorry in advance for how long this snippet is, but I'm just really vibing with this fic! I have no idea when it'll be done, but I think it might be my favorite thing I've ever written when I finally finish it! (This is a gen/pre-slash story about being an outsider and losing the last shreds of your innocence as the world puts you in terrible situations. And even still, finding love and beauty in the moments in between.)

That night, as he lay awake in his bed listening to the soft sounds of the crickets in the long grass outside, he rolled over to face the shadowy figure of his brother across the room. There were other empty bedrooms in the house, but not a single one of them batted an eyelash when Sam and Dean ended up together in the little loft at the top of the stairs that had an old porthole window overlooking the forest.

“Hey, Dean?” he whispered into the quiet.

Dean didn’t answer at first, but Sam saw him shift, settling back to look up at the ceiling with an arm flung over his head. “Yeah?”

“I found a cool place out in the woods today.”

Dean adjusted his pillow. The breeze rushed in through a missing pane in the window. “Oh, yeah?”

Sam wished he could go down to the store and buy a packet of those little glow-in-the-dark stars. It would give them something to look at when they talked like this. “Yeah,” he said. “A tire swing. Right out by the creek. It gets wide there. We could swim.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean said. Something in the attic moved above them. A squirrel, maybe. “After work, if you want.”

Dean was working at the Blockbuster in town. For thirty hours a week, he was gone – renting Titanic to old ladies and pornos to their husbands. He’d never been away so much before. Last summer, he’d just mowed lawns a couple mornings a week, but now he had a real job, and Sam was left all alone until sunset just about every night. Dad was in the house a lot, banging around under the sink or drinking beer on the porch, but he was also down at the bars just as often. And when he was home, he didn’t want to be bothered unless it was to run drills. Sam never wanted to run drills, so he avoided their father like the plague.

“Yeah.” Sam shifted until his position matched Dean’s, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the animal noises above them. “Or maybe one day when you’re off. So you can see it during the day. We could bring lunch.”

Dean huffed quietly. “Pack a picnic in that little basket on the bike, go for a swim? Sounds real good to me. Not Wednesday, though. Taking Faith into the city to see Blair Witch. She’s gonna need somebody to protect her after, so I won’t be around.”

Sam could hear the husky curl of his brother’s words and rolled his eyes. “You’re so gross, God.”

Dean laughed and turned his head to look in Sam’s direction, even though it was too dark for him to really see. “Just you wait, Sammy. Another six months and you’ll be worse than me. Us Winchester men can’t live without good pussy.”

“Ugh!” Sam grabbed the pillow from behind his head and chucked it straight at his brother. “Quit it, Dean!”

Dean grunted as the pillow hit him in the face. He did this sometimes, grossed Sam out with sex talk, tried to make him blush. Sam hated it almost as much as he hated running drills.

Sam let his head thump back against the hard mattress. “Just another reason I know we can’t be related. I’ll never be gross like you.”

Dean made a show of tucking Sam’s discarded pillow under his own and plumping it up. “Yeah, yeah, purity boy. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I know you'll actually be a virgin for the rest of your natural life, don’t worry.”

Sam sighed so loud the rustling of tiny paws in the attic stopped for a second. “You better quit or I won’t show you the tire swing.”

Dean laughed again. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’ll get it on at a respectable age and never use the word ‘pussy’ in your life and marry the first girl you kiss just to be safe. That better?”

Sam turned over on the bed, uncomfortable without his pillow, and faced the wall away from Dean. “Just shut up and go to sleep, Dean.”

He could hear his brother adjusting in his own bed before settling down again. “Night, Sammy.”

He closed his eyes tight and let out an exasperated breath. “Night, Dean.”

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

Making you cry. 😢😘

[somuchanemoia]

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