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dramaturgy) wrote2010-05-09 10:56 pm
dramaturgy) wrote2010-05-09 10:56 pm
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Whenever this meme comes around I never seem to have any WIPs but now I have a bunch, so.
Post a sentence (or paragraph) or two from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
When Sam told Lucifer yes in Detroit, it took the fight right out of Dean. Castiel saw it as much as felt it, and not only for him. He felt it as well.
It was a bubble of terror, disappointment, and misery that rose up in his chest, settling where he thought his heart was meant to be. He hadn't realized it before, but he had developed a brother's loyalty towards Sam as well as Dean. Protecting the two of them had been his major reason for doing anything, and now one had given himself over. It had been hard to watch, and even harder to bear when heaven and earth itself seemed to cry out in protest to this unnatural shift in the universe.
Lucifer looked back at them through Sam's eyes. It was immediately clear to Castiel how well the vessel fit Lucifer. Nick had been ill-fitting and constrictive, barely an option. Sam was like a tailored suit.
He was gone in the next second, but not before the devastation set in. Dean swore, and Castiel took him by the arm and flew him away far, far away from there before he could do something desperate.
-----
Claire's first instinct was to run.
Despite the fight or flight response, the demon's black eyes in her mother's face kept her stuck to the ground, the only sounds filling the garage being the car idling behind them and the Impala speeding away with her father in the backseat. Panic wrapped itself around her heart, which throbbed in sync with the side of her face. She trembled. Then she fled.
The demon invading her mother's body grabbed at her, catching the back of her sweatshirt. Twisting like a rat in the jaws of a snake, Claire slipped out of it and kept running for the entrance. Another demon -- she saw the black eyes, it couldn't be her imagination -- stepped out of the shadows too late for her to stop or avoid him completely.
-----
Theon was quickly growing tired of the moniker "Theon Turncloak." The next time he heard it, he was going to turn around and say anyone who called him Turncloak clearly had never met Ramsay Snow.
Bolton. Snow, Bolton, it made no difference. No matter what the bastard's name was, he was unpredictable in his temper and indiscriminately cruel.
-----
But like she'd predicted, it didn't take long at all. "So. Dean lets you drive?"
"Dean only thinks he's a machine, he has to sleep sometime. We cover more ground if there's two of us driving," she said, but she grinned a little. "But, yeah."
"Just… surprised, is all," he replied awkwardly.
"Well, the first few times he didn't sleep at all. You know how Dean is with this thing," she said.
"Some things never change?" he asked dryly.
"Nope."
"Even look at the thing sideways -- "
"Sam," Carrie interrupted him. "Why are we still talking about Dean's apparent lust for an older, mechanical woman?"
"Because he doesn't share the younger mechanical women with you?" he guessed.
"Zing," she answered. She nearly offered him a high five, it was still practically a reflex, but she checked the impulse before her arm left her side. Awkward. "Like I said. We cover twice as much ground with two drivers."
"So you're… hunting together," Sam said, even though that wasn't really the question. It was obvious that that's what his brother and sister had been up to. "You're close?"
Carrie glanced up at him, her brow slightly furrowed. "Well, yeah," she said. "I wouldn't say we're each other's favorite people all of the time, but. You know, you spend all your time with a person, you get close." She could see where Sam was going with this, but she was not going to play… or initiate. Yeah. That was it.
"I suppose," he said crisply. He knew he was going to look like a jealous ass when he said it, but it came out anyway. "We used to be close."
The gas pump popped when the tank was full, and Carrie removed it. "Christ alive, Sam, what do you want? The phone works both ways, you know."
"You could have come with me," he said. "You got into Stanford too, remember?"
She was showing an incredible amount of restraint in not braining him with the pump. "I remember," she replied. "I also remember you saying that it didn't matter what I chose, because I was your twin and that always meant something to us, blah blah blah."
"And then you stood by when dad told me if I got gone I shouldn't bother coming back."
"I was shocked, Sam, I was speechless."
"Yeah, that was a first. Monumental night in the Winchester family."
Carrie was about to really give her a piece of his mind, but Dean came out of the gas station and rescued Sam from strangulation. "Who wants breakfast?" he asked happily, brandishing Mt. Dew and Ding Dongs.
"Shove it up your ass," Carrie snapped, and handed him the keys. "I need to hit the head before we leave." With that, she stalked off.
Dean was taken aback for about a second, and then he looked at Sam. "What did you do?" he asked.
He could hardly believe his ears. "Me? You two drop by in the middle of the night, half-kidnap me to go find Dad, and now I'm getting interrogated?"
"You said something," he said.
He relented. "About her and you. You're… close." Damn, and it didn't sound any less like 'jealous bitch' when he said it again.
-----
Returning to the Dollhouse was like coming home after a very long vacation. A very familiar space that was eerie with quiet; all signs of habitation were there, but so much had happened since he was last there he had trouble remembering living, working, being there.
The silence bounced off the walls, and it was weird. As long as he'd worked and lived there, it had never been quiet. There were little waterfalls in the décor that trickled into pools, handlers talking in calm, soothing voices, and even back on his cot he was surrounded by the hum of computers. When they stepped in and he could actually hear DeWitt's shoes clicking on the floor -- well. It made an impression.
Victor and Sierra -- Tony and Priya, as it were -- headed in one direction, Echo and Ballard in another, so he went where his feet automatically took him. Walking into his lab was pure muscle memory.
-----
This was it. This was what it felt like to die.
The light tore Castiel apart, not just his vessel's body atom by atom, but every bit of Castiel that was he, himself. The part of him that was flesh and fire all at once was melting, like iron being put back into the forge to be made into something else. Except Castiel would never be anything else, this was all he would ever be. He had one life that was supposed to be one thing, and he had turned it into another, wasted it.
There was about half a moment where he was grateful to be rid of the body. He could stretch in a way he could not in the body, be in the air rather than breathing it, and reach out to the stars and far off worlds that had never known their Creator. Just as he used to.
Then it overcame him. The Archangel's power ripped through him, sending him into more pieces than could have possibly ever be put back together and Castiel was almost relieved -- except he knew that this was punishment, and had no way of knowing if this sacrifice was going to be for nothing. If Dean would make it to Sam and Ruby in time to stop them from killing Lilith. That kind of question put terror back in his heart, and only when he was filled with the appropriate amount of fear and doubt, did his life end.
The silence was deafening.
-----
She takes him home for a weekend. Her father takes a little bit longer to warm up to Jimmy, giving him the fisheye when he shakes his hand. Amelia knows it's totally stupid, but she loves Jimmy a little bit more when he doesn't waver an inch under that gaze that could always quail her on a second's notice. But Jimmy says something about March Madness, and her dad answers something about the Big Ten conference, and soon they are chatting about basketball in happy coded guy talk. At dinner, her mother fusses over him and exclaims, "You're so skinny!" while insisting he take seconds.
Amelia takes some too so he doesn't feel so uncomfortable being the only one at the table still eating, which takes forever because he's also fielding questions from her parents, about his major, what he wanted to do for a living, extracurricular activities, what he did in high school, if he liked music/movies/books and what kind, and things more personal. "Where did you say you were originally from?" her mother asks, having missed that part of an earlier conversation.
"Bloomington," Jimmy answers again, like it were the first time. "You know, downstate."
"That must be nice," she says.
"It's all right," he concedes.
"What sort of work do your parents do?" her father asks.
Amelia's sort of not even really listening at this point, she's heard this before. "My mom works in the public library," he says. "Actually, she does the archives."
"That must be such interesting work," her mother says, busying herself refilling water glasses from the pitcher. "What about your father?"
Jimmy's back and shoulders tense and she takes immediate note of it. She's never seen it before, he's much too laid back for such a thing. Amelia looks up, and she sees that the tension is in his jaw as well. "I don't know," he finally answers quickly, but firmly. "My dad wasn't really around. I haven't heard from him in years."
Post a sentence (or paragraph) or two from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
When Sam told Lucifer yes in Detroit, it took the fight right out of Dean. Castiel saw it as much as felt it, and not only for him. He felt it as well.
It was a bubble of terror, disappointment, and misery that rose up in his chest, settling where he thought his heart was meant to be. He hadn't realized it before, but he had developed a brother's loyalty towards Sam as well as Dean. Protecting the two of them had been his major reason for doing anything, and now one had given himself over. It had been hard to watch, and even harder to bear when heaven and earth itself seemed to cry out in protest to this unnatural shift in the universe.
Lucifer looked back at them through Sam's eyes. It was immediately clear to Castiel how well the vessel fit Lucifer. Nick had been ill-fitting and constrictive, barely an option. Sam was like a tailored suit.
He was gone in the next second, but not before the devastation set in. Dean swore, and Castiel took him by the arm and flew him away far, far away from there before he could do something desperate.
-----
Claire's first instinct was to run.
Despite the fight or flight response, the demon's black eyes in her mother's face kept her stuck to the ground, the only sounds filling the garage being the car idling behind them and the Impala speeding away with her father in the backseat. Panic wrapped itself around her heart, which throbbed in sync with the side of her face. She trembled. Then she fled.
The demon invading her mother's body grabbed at her, catching the back of her sweatshirt. Twisting like a rat in the jaws of a snake, Claire slipped out of it and kept running for the entrance. Another demon -- she saw the black eyes, it couldn't be her imagination -- stepped out of the shadows too late for her to stop or avoid him completely.
-----
Theon was quickly growing tired of the moniker "Theon Turncloak." The next time he heard it, he was going to turn around and say anyone who called him Turncloak clearly had never met Ramsay Snow.
Bolton. Snow, Bolton, it made no difference. No matter what the bastard's name was, he was unpredictable in his temper and indiscriminately cruel.
-----
But like she'd predicted, it didn't take long at all. "So. Dean lets you drive?"
"Dean only thinks he's a machine, he has to sleep sometime. We cover more ground if there's two of us driving," she said, but she grinned a little. "But, yeah."
"Just… surprised, is all," he replied awkwardly.
"Well, the first few times he didn't sleep at all. You know how Dean is with this thing," she said.
"Some things never change?" he asked dryly.
"Nope."
"Even look at the thing sideways -- "
"Sam," Carrie interrupted him. "Why are we still talking about Dean's apparent lust for an older, mechanical woman?"
"Because he doesn't share the younger mechanical women with you?" he guessed.
"Zing," she answered. She nearly offered him a high five, it was still practically a reflex, but she checked the impulse before her arm left her side. Awkward. "Like I said. We cover twice as much ground with two drivers."
"So you're… hunting together," Sam said, even though that wasn't really the question. It was obvious that that's what his brother and sister had been up to. "You're close?"
Carrie glanced up at him, her brow slightly furrowed. "Well, yeah," she said. "I wouldn't say we're each other's favorite people all of the time, but. You know, you spend all your time with a person, you get close." She could see where Sam was going with this, but she was not going to play… or initiate. Yeah. That was it.
"I suppose," he said crisply. He knew he was going to look like a jealous ass when he said it, but it came out anyway. "We used to be close."
The gas pump popped when the tank was full, and Carrie removed it. "Christ alive, Sam, what do you want? The phone works both ways, you know."
"You could have come with me," he said. "You got into Stanford too, remember?"
She was showing an incredible amount of restraint in not braining him with the pump. "I remember," she replied. "I also remember you saying that it didn't matter what I chose, because I was your twin and that always meant something to us, blah blah blah."
"And then you stood by when dad told me if I got gone I shouldn't bother coming back."
"I was shocked, Sam, I was speechless."
"Yeah, that was a first. Monumental night in the Winchester family."
Carrie was about to really give her a piece of his mind, but Dean came out of the gas station and rescued Sam from strangulation. "Who wants breakfast?" he asked happily, brandishing Mt. Dew and Ding Dongs.
"Shove it up your ass," Carrie snapped, and handed him the keys. "I need to hit the head before we leave." With that, she stalked off.
Dean was taken aback for about a second, and then he looked at Sam. "What did you do?" he asked.
He could hardly believe his ears. "Me? You two drop by in the middle of the night, half-kidnap me to go find Dad, and now I'm getting interrogated?"
"You said something," he said.
He relented. "About her and you. You're… close." Damn, and it didn't sound any less like 'jealous bitch' when he said it again.
-----
Returning to the Dollhouse was like coming home after a very long vacation. A very familiar space that was eerie with quiet; all signs of habitation were there, but so much had happened since he was last there he had trouble remembering living, working, being there.
The silence bounced off the walls, and it was weird. As long as he'd worked and lived there, it had never been quiet. There were little waterfalls in the décor that trickled into pools, handlers talking in calm, soothing voices, and even back on his cot he was surrounded by the hum of computers. When they stepped in and he could actually hear DeWitt's shoes clicking on the floor -- well. It made an impression.
Victor and Sierra -- Tony and Priya, as it were -- headed in one direction, Echo and Ballard in another, so he went where his feet automatically took him. Walking into his lab was pure muscle memory.
-----
This was it. This was what it felt like to die.
The light tore Castiel apart, not just his vessel's body atom by atom, but every bit of Castiel that was he, himself. The part of him that was flesh and fire all at once was melting, like iron being put back into the forge to be made into something else. Except Castiel would never be anything else, this was all he would ever be. He had one life that was supposed to be one thing, and he had turned it into another, wasted it.
There was about half a moment where he was grateful to be rid of the body. He could stretch in a way he could not in the body, be in the air rather than breathing it, and reach out to the stars and far off worlds that had never known their Creator. Just as he used to.
Then it overcame him. The Archangel's power ripped through him, sending him into more pieces than could have possibly ever be put back together and Castiel was almost relieved -- except he knew that this was punishment, and had no way of knowing if this sacrifice was going to be for nothing. If Dean would make it to Sam and Ruby in time to stop them from killing Lilith. That kind of question put terror back in his heart, and only when he was filled with the appropriate amount of fear and doubt, did his life end.
The silence was deafening.
-----
She takes him home for a weekend. Her father takes a little bit longer to warm up to Jimmy, giving him the fisheye when he shakes his hand. Amelia knows it's totally stupid, but she loves Jimmy a little bit more when he doesn't waver an inch under that gaze that could always quail her on a second's notice. But Jimmy says something about March Madness, and her dad answers something about the Big Ten conference, and soon they are chatting about basketball in happy coded guy talk. At dinner, her mother fusses over him and exclaims, "You're so skinny!" while insisting he take seconds.
Amelia takes some too so he doesn't feel so uncomfortable being the only one at the table still eating, which takes forever because he's also fielding questions from her parents, about his major, what he wanted to do for a living, extracurricular activities, what he did in high school, if he liked music/movies/books and what kind, and things more personal. "Where did you say you were originally from?" her mother asks, having missed that part of an earlier conversation.
"Bloomington," Jimmy answers again, like it were the first time. "You know, downstate."
"That must be nice," she says.
"It's all right," he concedes.
"What sort of work do your parents do?" her father asks.
Amelia's sort of not even really listening at this point, she's heard this before. "My mom works in the public library," he says. "Actually, she does the archives."
"That must be such interesting work," her mother says, busying herself refilling water glasses from the pitcher. "What about your father?"
Jimmy's back and shoulders tense and she takes immediate note of it. She's never seen it before, he's much too laid back for such a thing. Amelia looks up, and she sees that the tension is in his jaw as well. "I don't know," he finally answers quickly, but firmly. "My dad wasn't really around. I haven't heard from him in years."