Archive for January 5th, 2008

Right Up There: Everything Changes, Everything Stays the Same

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Everything Changes, Everything Stays the Same by walkawayslowly


This is a post-Dean’s-Deal story, where you don’t know how they got Dean out of the Deal, you just know they did. Besides, the aftermath is the fun part. Read this story slowly, because you won’t get a first chance to read something so sweet and honest.

Everyone drives away from the place where the deal was broken, but Sam and Dean take a little time to their own, and have a quick shimmy shimmy in the Impala. Which is as it should be. Then, the shimmy shimmy happens whenever there’s a tight spot they get each other out of or out of danger…and then the shimmy happens when it wants to. From Sam’s POV, the freakout is consistent and fun, but he can’t take his mind off Dean, and it’s no wonder. The slash is hot without being porny, and I had a few good GUH moments to boot, which is hard to do, when you’ve read as many of these as I have. Remember, go slowly.

Some good quotes:

“He doesn’t notice they’re slowing down at first, not till Jo’s truck gets swallowed by a cloud of dust, fading off into the distance and then they’re not moving at all. Dean shifts into park with his left hand and drops his head to the wheel, harsh breath like it’s all just catching up to him now and he pulls their hands towards him, up to his chest.”

“It doesn’t take long, poltergeists are (mostly) old hat and this one has nothing on the malevolent force of the one in Lawrence. Still, it manages to get something, Sam can’t feel what, wrapped around his neck before the end and he’s wondering why every supernatural thing out there is obsessed with choking him, vision getting black around the edges and then it’s all gone. Poltergeist handled, apparently, the last little bag shoved into the hole Dean knocked into the wall, and Dean’s unraveling whatever the hell it is then he’s moving down Sam’s chest, fingers scrabbling at his belt and his pants and Dean swallows him down and Sam arches up into it, into Dean, little whimpers escaping among the coughs as he tries to catch his breath again. He doesn’t know, God he doesn’t know what this is about, what it means, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care.” (GUH, right?)

Only now, now that Sam knows the feel of Dean’s mouth on his, the harsh rasp of his cheek scraping down Sam’s neck, now he wants to touch Dean, his arm, the small of his back, to throw Dean down on the table and blow him right there, anything to stake a claim, to plant a flag on Dean’s ass that says “mine” in huge, sparkly letters. He wants it so badly he curls his hands into fists, stuffs them under his thighs.”

“Typical night, Sam thinks, typical hook up and as much as he wants to protest it won’t make any difference. They’re close enough he can walk back to the motel and he shoves the lap top back in his bag, squares up at the bar and heads for the door. He’s only just left the dim circle of light underneath the one lamp post outside when Dean catches up with him, hooks his arm around Sam’s neck. “Haven’t you learned anything?” Dean says, pulling Sam towards the Impala. “Be afraid of the dark, Sammy, don’t go wandering around by yourself in it.”” (I loved this last line. It would look good on a tshirt.) 

Novel Notes: Taking a Stab

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So today, I did what I said I was going to do. I worked on my novel. I wrote a blisteringly 731 words, in about an hour. I just connected one scene to the next is all, but at least it was a STEP. In the right direction. I’m going for a walk now, feeling very proud of myself.

The novel has nothing to do with fandom, and is a historical drama set in Victorian London. I’ve always been obsessed with that era, with the repression that sat right underneath the holier-than-the-poor-unwashed folk, and the filth and the general hubbub. You go to London today, and you see smatterings of it, the class separation which seems to be still going on strong. So the story is about that a bit, and the filth, and the shoes. I’m obsessed with Victorian footwear, go figure.

Anyway, 731 words. Horray for me! (To date, the story already has 100,000 words, so I’m looking to double that for the rough draft.)