alwaysenduphere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysenduphere) wrote2011-04-28 05:30 am
alwaysenduphere) wrote2011-04-28 05:30 am
I want to WRITE.
Gimme prompts! And then I will try and write something of some length probably over a couple hundred words and also possibly but not necessarily in second person because that's how I roll. Any fandom and/or pairing you know I have a passing interest in (though tbh Supernatural is always the easiest) and I will give it it a shot. Heck, I will give original fiction a shot if you so desire/don't specify otherwise.
I have all these half-written fics on my hard drive and I'm asking for prompts. I amuse myself.
Also!I really really do still need someone to look over my ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_cinema fic, please? I promise to give virtual hugs when you get done reading it, and I will totally understand if you rip apart my writing style after it rips out your heart. *puppy eyes* I think this is covered now, thanks!
I have all these half-written fics on my hard drive and I'm asking for prompts. I amuse myself.
Also!
spn_cinema fic, please? I promise to give virtual hugs when you get done reading it, and I will totally understand if you rip apart my writing style after it rips out your heart. *puppy eyes*
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As for a prompt... Sam/Dean, car crash.
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al;skj;ljs i could've probably kept going on this cuz i didn't really get to the sam and dean, lol, but i was kinda confusing myself a bit and it seemed like a good place to stop. so uh, ta-daaaaaa.
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Everyone calls you a tough old broad and you're pretty proud of that fact. You've been through a lot of things in your life and always came out swinging, rain or shine. You've been covered in blood, ripped apart at the seams, beat, poked, prodded in every corner of your being and you are still here. So while sure, you'd like to be called 'svelte young thing' or maybe just 'a survivor,' you're okay with 'tough old broad' because it's better than simply 'dead.'
Your favorite thing about the open road is the scenery. And yeah, it's a bit of a cop-out because isn't that part of the point of a road trip, to see the sights? But your idea of scenery isn't just the open fields and vibrant green hills. No, your favorites are the bits underneath your frame, the grass that peeks out from the cracks in the pavement, the potholes that rattles your bones, the curves that slide your hips around their corners.
But sometimes they're the curves that throw your body in a thousand different directions when it's dark and wet. Before you know it you're spinning out of control, especially when the road you're on is more grass slipping through than actual pavement and the lightening flashes and thunder claps disturb every fiber of your being. Then suddenly you're covered in blood and ripped apart in all the wrong places again, and your survival instincts kick in, and you hold on to anything and everything that you can. You're never gonna go down without a fight, it's not in you. You're a Winchester and Winchesters don't die easy.
You learned that from the two boys bleeding in your seats, their blood becoming a part of you, just like their sweat, their tears, their hopes, fears, wins, loses, and everything in between. Nearly thirty years of their lives run through your veins, and you're not about to give that up now.
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And that was really beautiful! You have a gorgeous writing style. Usually second person fics are kind of jarring, but yours is really fluid. I really really really love this line: No, your favorites are the bits underneath your frame, the grass that peeks out from the cracks in the pavement, the potholes that rattles your bones, the curves that slide your hips around their corners. The imagery was amazing, too--I have such a thing for details and descriptions. Thank you!!
Oh, also: you're covered in blood and ripped apart in all the wrong places again, and your survival instincts kick in, and you hold on to anything and everything that you can. You're never gonna go down without a fight, it's not in you. You're a Winchester and Winchesters don't die easy. That was just perfect. Absolutely perfect. ♥♥♥
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als;dkjfljslkfjljskl; thank youuuuuuuu. and haha everyone seems to think that about second person fics, but i can't. stop. writing them. (that fic i just sent you is in it too) it's like...where my mind works easiest, i guess? idk, idk. anyway thank youuuuu. gosh i love the impala.
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why that needed to be in capslock, idk. JUST DO IT. :D
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OMG I WROTE BRIAN THIS IS A FIRST!
uhhh pretend this is in late season two.
You don't know how you ended up here. Something about an exhibit and 'rare' and 'expensive' is all you got out of the conversation, as you were too distracted by Justin's mouth humming around your cock to really bother with coherent thought. It's funny how that happens sometimes...
Bottom line: you were tricked. Rare and expensive, sure, but you've never even had a passing interest in fish, (unless of course you're eating it) so you really aren't in the mood to wonder around the giant aquarium learning about the apparently rare and expensive exotic exhibit that just opened.
The tour guide's hot, though. Justin's listening to his every word, and who knew he had a thing for fish? (Not that you really know all that much about him, these days.) And then he smiles at you and you think, what the hell. If it makes him happy you can at least pretend to learn about the overgrown goldfish. Justin laughs when you smile back and comment on the fullness of the tour guide's lips.
You're going to find out what those lips look like around your cock when the tour is done.
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Oh, a prompt! Um, how about Sam and Dean, catastrophe.
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Haha, I was going to say, "aren't their whole lives catastrophes" AND THEN BAM I HAD WORDS. Have some dying thoughts of Jo's.
~
Aren't their whole lives catastrophes? You're pretty sure that's how the story goes. Boy's mother dies, boy's father dies. Boy's brother dies, then lives, then dies. Then lives. Boy starts apocalypse. Boy dies. Then lives. It'd be a comedy of errors if it wasn't personal, if you didn't know every piece of hurt each catastrophe has caused.
But Sam and Dean don't exist without them, their whole lives one ragged string of near-death experiences to keep them alive, keep them on their toes, on the way to redemption or hope or whatever belief they cling to these days to keep themselves from stopping in their tracks and falling down dead for good. You have no idea how either of them gets out of bed each morning.
Some might say they thrive on catastrophes, adrenaline pumping, heart-in-your-throat feeling the only thing that keeps them going, looking for disaster after to disaster to feel useful, to feel safer, to feel alive.
You're not sure which it is if it's any, but as you're lying in a pool of your own blood, finger on the trigger ready to blow, you think you're finally getting a taste of the weight on their shoulders, the burden they carry living out a series of never-ending unfortunate events. You're just the last in a long line, and pretty soon even that won't be true. There's always another catastrophe right around the corner.
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