Writing From the Inside

I decided recently to post some of my zine stories that I wrote when I was deeply, deeply into Dark Shadows. I wrote many stories, all of them to do with the character of Willie Loomis, who I found (and find) to be fascinating. He was the servant of the vampire Barnabas Collins, and while there’s a good many people out there who think Barn is the hero and the good guy, I thought Willie was the best. He had the heart of a lion and wasn’t afraid to step up to Barnabas and tell him he was an idiot. So, to start with, here are two links to my LJ where the following stories are posted:

Title: Lilacs in Bloom
Author: Sylvia Bond
Genre/Rating: Het/PG-17
Verse: Lilacs Verse
Pairing: Willie/Victoria
Word Count: 10,257
Summary: On a fine spring day, Willie takes time out of his busy day to tend to a lilac tree. By chance, he is able to give the fresh petals to Victoria Winters who is, at the time, being vigorously courted by Willie’s boss, Barnabas Collins. Barn finds out and the bad things happen. The sequel is Stopping by Woods.
A/N: I once thought that Willie and Maggie were the OTP in Dark Shadows fandom. That was, until I wrote this story.

and

Title: Stopping by Woods
Author: Sylvia Bond
Genre/Rating: Het/PG-17
Pairing: Willie/Victoria
Verse: Lilacs
Word Count: 27,326
Summary: In this sequel to Lilacs in Bloom, Victoria contemplates Barnabas’ courtship of her and is shocked when he tells her that Willie is carrying a torch for her. He warns her to be careful, at which point she becomes rather more aware of Willie than she should. And then bad things happen.
A/N: It is my secret dream that one day Willie and Victoria will run off together, leaving Collinwood far, far behind them.

You can read my review of the Supernatural episode “Simon Said” at pinkraygun.com. Thank you!

An excerpt:

“The last of the visions comes during the car right at night. I envy Andy in this scene as Dean drives along; I like to imagine what must it be like to be able to hang out in the back seat of the Impala like that. Or to lean forward over the back seat like that, close enough to see the lights on the dash and know exactly how FAST Dean is going. To dither away like you’re one of the gang, and have that exciting feeling that maybe you’ve found some new, cool friends to play with. Well, the fun doesn’t last long and as the vision is upon Sam, Dean stops the car so fast it’s a wonder all of them didn’t go through the windshield. Plus, he sprints around that car like he’s in some psycho version of car musical chairs. It’s also very sweet to watch how Sam turns to Dean immediately, for comfort and for something to hold onto. Someone who understands. For Sam, Dean is the ultimate home base.”

Can’t Stop Talking

Frustrated

Cutting a handsome line

Catching a redwood tree

Say WHAT?

You’re my home

The No Stairway Anthology has just posted its first issue, and there are many, many fine stories to read. I’m pleased to say that “Out of Harm’s Way” is one of them. The basic premise of the anthology is as follows:

“The No Stairway Anthology is a collection of fiction, posted in digests of ten stories, presented in full by pre-posted publishing dates. The goal of the Anthology is to showcase fan works that are considered solid, appealing, original in theme or execution, re-readable, literary, and well executed. We accept Gen, Het, Slash and RPF/RPS works of between 1,000 and 10,000 words. Works previously published online or in ‘Zines are welcome, as are new works.”

Here’s the link:

 http://nostairway.org 

Click on “Current Issue.” 

Enjoy!

Last Outpost of All That Is by eight_horizon.

Slash.

This is the comment I made to the author, straight up:

I don’t like end of the world fic either because it makes me sad too. Amalthia, though, I trust her like crazy, and she assured me that this was fantastic. And it was, so very very much so. I read the whole dang thing in one sitting, because it was that good. Amalthia had warned me so I was ready. As I ever could be, considering.

First, your writing is so good, you capture the characters, Sam is Sam and Dean is Dean. Which, sometimes is much harder than it might at first seem.

Second, they don’t rush into sex. Sex becomes a part of who they are together, but it’s not the only thing that defines them, and you do that beautifully here.

Third, I think you got it right. I could tell you’d thought it through, and didn’t rush through thinking about gas stations and frozen pork chops and running water. Even though it boggles my mind to read about, you did a fantastic job, I believed it ALL. You never rushed any of it, it felt careful and real and honest.

And lastly, I was very brave. I read the whole thing and jumped at shadows when the boys jumped, and was glad when they pulled out their guns, or shouted to each other. I about died when Sam fell off the roof. And then I got to this part:

“Sam took up drawing. He’d sketched throughout his life for fun, but with more time dedicated to it, he turned out to be pretty good. The landscape around the house, the beaches of the reservoir, the way the light hit the stairs from the front windows; he captured them easily. Dean thought it was cool until he woke in time one morning to catch Sam sketching him.”

and

“Dean started writing his own music on the guitar. Sam knew it right away, and not only because he didn’t recognize the songs. He felt them in his bones as if he was listening to Dean’s voice murmur in the dark about things he’d usually never dare say.”

It was at this point that I bawled my eyes out, no longer brave. No longer to say, yeah, sure, apocalypitic fic, everything’s okay. Because Christ on a crutch, you….you, hell, I can’t even explain it. I can’t take stuff like this, just can’t. Thank GOD the story was over mostly at that point (except it wasn’t, because thank goodness you didn’t kill them off, they’ll outlive us all, and that’s something good, right?) because my insides felt like they’d been twisted around peices of metal and then that metal got twisted around something else, and just. Just.

You slay me. I don’t think I will EVER and I mean ever read apocalyptic fic again, not even if Amalthia rec’s it to me. Okay, maybe if it’s got Evil!Sam or something, then it’s just a fantasy, cause Sam would never really turn evil and hurt his beloved Dean.

Right? RIGHT?

Hell, I don’t know what to belive anymore. This story was SO good, my head is spinning. Are we done now? Can I crawl into bed and pull the covers up way high and try to think about pink ponies and fat sassy kittens and…something easy. Life Lite. Anything! (Yeah. Job well done. You got to me.)

Shelter Beneath the Mundane by drvsilla.

Slash.

I’ve decided that I quite like amnesia fic, which is what I thought this was. But it turned out to be Dean in hell fic, that is a story where Dean goes to hell and Sam gets him out. There’s not a lot of hot sex here, but there is intelligent storycrafting, whereby Dean suffers through the fires of hell by imagining he’s still got a purpose. And that is, running a little breakfast place for all those people he was unable to save, and who are also in hell. I quite liked the concept, because it was original and it FITS with how Dean sees himself. He’s one of those who does what must be done. He’s very duty bound, and his way of controlling the pain of hellfire is by doing his duty. Lovely.

Excerpt:

Dean began the day’s routine, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow would follow. Coffee first, left to percolate and fill the huge silver urns that lined the back counter; one of them gurgled and he thumped it with the heel of his hand, nodded in satisfaction when it groaned and steadied on. Grill warmed and eggs set next to it for omelets or sunnysides, bacon laid down to pop while it cooked, bread and muffins and rolls in case someone wanted it as a sandwich. Everything else was where it should be - plenty of fruit in the basket next to the register, cinnamon rolls still fresh enough to serve, mints in small tins just because.

The Dangers of Second Guessing by mona1347.

Slash.

There’s no plot, but sometimes you don’t need one, when it gets this hot. The ep Mystery Spot has spawned a huge amount of desperate Sam stories, which only makes sense, seeing as how the whole experience, which really never happened, changed Sam totally. I mean, it had to, right? So, all the stories following this ep have this sense of panic in them, where Sam can’t stand to let Dean out of his sight. Like ever. There have been one or two that were super good, and had a plot, this one didn’t. But that’s okay, because it was hot and yeah, it made sense, if you could see inside Dean’s head, about how freaky it is to have Sam watching him every minute of every day. Plus, Dean’s not totally jiggy with the whole kissing thing, he’s resistant, but you know, with Sam, what Sam wants, resistance is futile.

Plus there’s lines like this one, showing me just how frantic Dean is to stop and go at the same time:

“Yeah, yeah, let me have you.”

“Shut up,” Dean growls in reply, hand grabbing at Sam’s hair and yanking his head back maybe too hard, forcing their eyes to meet. “Shut up, you stupid shit. You know. You know you always had…”

“I do,” Sam pants, nodding and wild-eyed. “I know.”

***

Something about Dean calling Sam a stupid shit in the middle of all this hotness felt real to me. He’s pissed off and wanting it and bossing Sam around all at the same time. It’s a nice little PWP here. I enjoyed myself.

I have this friend. I’ll just call her Nik, though that’s not her real name. She writes fanfic, or at least she used to. Now she just writes for her work, and says that most of the time it’s incredibly boring. I don’t know why she doesn’t write fanfic anymore, she says she just can’t find anything to say. And maybe that’s because while she was writing it, she was so brilliant, she burned herself out. She was the kind of writer I aspired to be, and in fact, we had a kind of synergy going, and she says I inspired her as well, because she would write something and then I would riff off of that, and then she would riff, and the whole thing was so electric and bright, it’s a wonder we didn’t burn ourselves to ash. Read the rest of this entry »

Demons Made Me Spill My Guts Like a Girl by merrin.

Slash.

This is a dark, dark fic, too dark, in fact, going all AU and impossible on me. Yet the writing was teriffic so I read the whole thing, shaking my head, not liking the premise, but liking the story and the result, if you see what I mean. So I get to this excerpt and I’m like, yeah. It’s like that.

”

“Damn it, Sam. I remember what it said, okay? I remember saying it. You’re doing this because you think I want it and I want you to stop. I don’t need this.”

But the thing is, Sam knows Dean, sometimes better than Dean knows himself. And even though some things have changed and there are secrets in Dean’s eyes he’s never seen before and can only guess at the truth of, he knows this. He knows that Dean wants it, even needs it as much as he does, and he plays the one card that always gets them what they both need.

“I do,” Sam says, and Dean’s resistance crumbles like Sam is the Big Bad Wolf and Dean is the house of straw and that’s how Sam finds out Dean kisses like he’s dying, or like he’s being reborn, like he’ll never need to breathe again. Dean’s hands are on his face and his mouth is open, pressed against Sam’s. He’s making the softest, neediest noises that Sam would be duty-bound to give him crap for if he wasn’t making the same noises himself and even if it’s nothing he ever thought of before, it’s everything he’s always wanted.

Make the Yueltide Gay by nomelon

Slash.

If anything is enough to turn me off a story, the title to this one is. Yeah, gay has been taken over as to mean something entirely different from when it was used as a lyric in a song. But, since this story was rec’d to me by a writer I respect (plutogirl10), I’m game. So I read it. Fell in love. You will too.  

An excerpt:

He looks Sam right in the eye as he makes the first swipe. Sam knows that look. It’s the one from when Dean’s playing pool and has given up any pretence of not being a total shark. It’s that moment where he lines up a shot then doesn’t even look when he takes it, preferring to look his opponent in the eyes and give him both barrels of the patented Dean Winchester cocky bastard grin of doom. Sam knows that Dean stole the move from watching Tom Cruise in The Color of Money, although wild horses couldn’t drag that admission out of Dean. He also knows how good Dean is at pool. That every shot he takes, he knows exactly where the balls are going to end up, that his showboating comes from endless misspent summer days during their formative years, and that Dean never, ever misses. So he just sits still and trusts his brother not to make him look like a lopsided idiot. Dean’s grin softens, and when he does the other side, he pays a little more attention.

Lament of Lost Souls by plutogirl10.

Slash (Sequel to Hunger of Old Mouths)

I loved Hunger of Old Mouths and I love this story too. It’s a big long fic, with plenty of development and sex that has purpose. Or at least sexual intent that has purpose. But it’s never dry or safe or easy. Where the sex pays the price and comes at a price and the connection between the two boys is more solid than before.

My favorite part is Dean holding Sam’s head under the water. Not that I liked him doing that but oh the TRUST there. And the sheer guts to DO it. On both their parts. And the fact that after, they come back together, just as they are (tough, not overly emotional), but changed.

I love this line:

“Anything you want or need, you should have,” Sam whispers carefully, mouth pressed to Dean’s temple and feeling the tension radiating off him in waves. “It goes both ways, Dean — I’m just as tangled up in you. You’re all I’ve ever known and taking that away won’t do anything but ruin me. It’s the only thing that could.”He tightens his fingers against Dean’s skull, gives him a rough kind of shake, then stands up and leaves the room before Dean has enough time to gather himself and kick his ass.

(Because…because…it’s about TIME someone should give their all for Dean, when he’s done it so many times…..and that whole giving thing. That’s love, Sam style.)

And this:

Dean has spent his entire life sweeping Sam aside, keeping him behind. One step further from even the vaguest of threats, and one step further also from Dean. Dean had stood guard, but had done it looking out at the world. He’d faced the darkness, and turned his back on the one thing that was his to nurture.Maybe not so different from their father after all, then.

(Which, is so true, it’s almost painful. It says a lot about John and his way of protecting. and now Dean finds himself doing the SAME thing.)

And THIS, which is perhaps the most profound and loving thing one person can say to another:

“I can see you,” Sam murmurs against his mouth, still trembling slightly. Dean doesn’t need to see Sam’s eyes to know what he means. He knows it has nothing to do with visiblity of flesh.“I know,” Dean says, without fear.