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WIP meme
double-ewe tee eff? Since when did I become a Johnfan?
It's weird, I'm becoming totally obsessive, and yet-- Like. I love Dean and Sam, totally love them and think about them all the time and they give me belly-melting glee and they're hot and make my brain whirr and all that. That beautiful fanlove. Cmon, don't play bashful, you totally know what I'm talking about.
I don't have that love for John, but... he's fascinating. I was inarticulately gesticulating to Mary about all this the other day, and yeah, she hit the nail on the head - he's compelling. I'm drawn to John's character not so much in a way that he makes me make weird little squealing noises, but that I just want to unwind him to find out what makes him tick. And lately, yeah, I've been compelled to do so.
And apparently this translates into a lot of exploratory John fanworks *shrug*
So, okay. That WIP meme. For fics and vids, because why the hell not?
Fic: John/wee!Winchester gen, set in 1984, of epic (for me, anyway) proportions. Currently at about 17,000 words.
Sammy wakes first, with a sleepy whimper of discomfort, and John’s changing him when Dean wakes.
“You need to use the bathroom, kiddo?” John asks as Dean rubs at the sleep-inertia muddling his features.
“I'm not a baby, Dad,” Dean says, and wriggles across the wrinkled coverlet before dropping to his feet on the floor. He leaves the bathroom door open a crack, and the yellow light from the windowless room oozes out into the paler, filtered sunlight of the hotel room.
John settles Sammy sitting upright on the bed and goes to rummage in the bags not two steps away. When Dean steps out of the bathroom and sees the comb in John's hand he pulls a face.
“Either I can do it or you can do it yourself,” John says, no give-or-take to his tone, and Dean sighs before walking toward him, turning his back. John sits down on the edge of Sammy's bed, gentling Dean a couple of backwards-steps closer with hands on his shoulders.
The tendons at the back of Dean's neck are arched, each not wider than one of John's thumbs. “Head back,” he says, and Dean complies with complaint. John combs from front to back, canny now of the degrees of tolerable pressure felt through the cheap plastic as it strokes against Dean's scalp. More gentle around the ears. Only had to learn that lesson once.
Sammy's body's light enough that John barely feels the shift in the mattress that precedes the sudden, insistent baby fingers digging into his waist. He pauses, ready to shift his position, brace Sammy somewhere less precarious than the edge of the bed but Sam seems content with a fistful of John's shirt, propping his body against John's side, for the time being not requiring any further attention than the brush and sweep of the inside of John's arm as he pulls the comb through Dean's hair. Dean's body rocks a little, aimless, rolling into the momentum of John's strokes. It's a lot easier than it was, this ritual; John has to suppress an automatic dread every time he picks up the comb now, the involuntary memory of a time when it felt like Dean was never as vocal as when he was shrieking, in pain or simple rage at John for dragging the comb through his mess of hair, plastic teeth snarling into the tangles.
Fic: John/Dean bodyswap. Porny. Because, uh,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derryderrydown and lcsbanana made me.
Dean. Dean staring back at him, jaw tight and eyes tense, expression impenetrable under ridiculous bed-hair.
He looks young. So fucking young, despite the guardedness of his expression, and John startles again as the Dean in the reflection lifts his hand, fingers tentatively scraping against the grain of stubble bordering his jaw, the sensation translating itself into rough, papery sound in the close, tiled space.
Dean’s chest’s bare and smooth where John’s is scattered with darker hair; Dean’s nipples smooth, pink and dark, new bruise smeared on the side of his ribs. John flexes, twists, and it twinges with a dull ache, he presses his fingers to it and Dean’s chest moves, expands as John draws in a sudden breath.
John drops his hands to his sides, Dean stares back at him.
He closes his eyes as he lowers his head, twisting on the faucet and cupping his hands beneath it, pushing the water against his face. The sound of it makes him realize just how direly he needs to piss, and how his dick – Dean’s dick – is still half-hard, and he keeps his eyes closed because he’s not even going to look…
And that mantra alone is enough to make him almost-laugh, mouth open and breath huffing out because the timbre of Dean’s voice heard from inside Dean is still too strange for him to repeat. He toilet trained Dean for crying out loud; bathed him til he was old enough to be trusted not to drown or flood the bathroom, John’s seen more of Dean in twenty-two years than most people see of their significant others, but jesus christ.
And, I usually play the vid bunnies close to the chest, and that's partially because in this fandom it seems as soon as you get an idea, someone else carries it out for you... but hell, with all the podcasting and whatnot, who knows if I'll ever have time to make these anyway? That said, homg, plis don't steal them.
- Dean character vid to AC/DC's Thunderstruck. In-progress, about 10 seconds done (dude, it's fucking hard).
- Sam character vid, companion piece to the above to Radiohead's Street Spirit (not even started).
- Lame funny vid to a Beatallica song. About a minute done.
- Lame funny Colt vid to the last minute or so of "We both reached for the gun" (from Chicago). Also about a minute done.
- Oh boy, started this one real early, never got around to finishing: A 'Faith' Wincest episode vid to Limp Bizkit's cover of "Faith" (a-well I guess it would be ni-ice...).
- A kids & creatures "don't look under your bed" type fan-trailer.
- A demon/winchester narrative arc fan-trailer.
- A Winchester Four vid to The Waif's Flesh and Bone.
- A Dean/John vid to Snow Patrol's Set Fire to the Third Bar.
Yeah. one day.
Other WIPs? Converting Super-canon to a wiki so I can announce it and get people to contribute already; the goddamn podcast; updating my Super-recs; oh, and right. that academic career thing I'm supposedly working on. Right.
It's weird, I'm becoming totally obsessive, and yet-- Like. I love Dean and Sam, totally love them and think about them all the time and they give me belly-melting glee and they're hot and make my brain whirr and all that. That beautiful fanlove. Cmon, don't play bashful, you totally know what I'm talking about.
I don't have that love for John, but... he's fascinating. I was inarticulately gesticulating to Mary about all this the other day, and yeah, she hit the nail on the head - he's compelling. I'm drawn to John's character not so much in a way that he makes me make weird little squealing noises, but that I just want to unwind him to find out what makes him tick. And lately, yeah, I've been compelled to do so.
And apparently this translates into a lot of exploratory John fanworks *shrug*
So, okay. That WIP meme. For fics and vids, because why the hell not?
Fic: John/wee!Winchester gen, set in 1984, of epic (for me, anyway) proportions. Currently at about 17,000 words.
Sammy wakes first, with a sleepy whimper of discomfort, and John’s changing him when Dean wakes.
“You need to use the bathroom, kiddo?” John asks as Dean rubs at the sleep-inertia muddling his features.
“I'm not a baby, Dad,” Dean says, and wriggles across the wrinkled coverlet before dropping to his feet on the floor. He leaves the bathroom door open a crack, and the yellow light from the windowless room oozes out into the paler, filtered sunlight of the hotel room.
John settles Sammy sitting upright on the bed and goes to rummage in the bags not two steps away. When Dean steps out of the bathroom and sees the comb in John's hand he pulls a face.
“Either I can do it or you can do it yourself,” John says, no give-or-take to his tone, and Dean sighs before walking toward him, turning his back. John sits down on the edge of Sammy's bed, gentling Dean a couple of backwards-steps closer with hands on his shoulders.
The tendons at the back of Dean's neck are arched, each not wider than one of John's thumbs. “Head back,” he says, and Dean complies with complaint. John combs from front to back, canny now of the degrees of tolerable pressure felt through the cheap plastic as it strokes against Dean's scalp. More gentle around the ears. Only had to learn that lesson once.
Sammy's body's light enough that John barely feels the shift in the mattress that precedes the sudden, insistent baby fingers digging into his waist. He pauses, ready to shift his position, brace Sammy somewhere less precarious than the edge of the bed but Sam seems content with a fistful of John's shirt, propping his body against John's side, for the time being not requiring any further attention than the brush and sweep of the inside of John's arm as he pulls the comb through Dean's hair. Dean's body rocks a little, aimless, rolling into the momentum of John's strokes. It's a lot easier than it was, this ritual; John has to suppress an automatic dread every time he picks up the comb now, the involuntary memory of a time when it felt like Dean was never as vocal as when he was shrieking, in pain or simple rage at John for dragging the comb through his mess of hair, plastic teeth snarling into the tangles.
Fic: John/Dean bodyswap. Porny. Because, uh,
derryderrydown and lcsbanana made me.Dean. Dean staring back at him, jaw tight and eyes tense, expression impenetrable under ridiculous bed-hair.
He looks young. So fucking young, despite the guardedness of his expression, and John startles again as the Dean in the reflection lifts his hand, fingers tentatively scraping against the grain of stubble bordering his jaw, the sensation translating itself into rough, papery sound in the close, tiled space.
Dean’s chest’s bare and smooth where John’s is scattered with darker hair; Dean’s nipples smooth, pink and dark, new bruise smeared on the side of his ribs. John flexes, twists, and it twinges with a dull ache, he presses his fingers to it and Dean’s chest moves, expands as John draws in a sudden breath.
John drops his hands to his sides, Dean stares back at him.
He closes his eyes as he lowers his head, twisting on the faucet and cupping his hands beneath it, pushing the water against his face. The sound of it makes him realize just how direly he needs to piss, and how his dick – Dean’s dick – is still half-hard, and he keeps his eyes closed because he’s not even going to look…
And that mantra alone is enough to make him almost-laugh, mouth open and breath huffing out because the timbre of Dean’s voice heard from inside Dean is still too strange for him to repeat. He toilet trained Dean for crying out loud; bathed him til he was old enough to be trusted not to drown or flood the bathroom, John’s seen more of Dean in twenty-two years than most people see of their significant others, but jesus christ.
And, I usually play the vid bunnies close to the chest, and that's partially because in this fandom it seems as soon as you get an idea, someone else carries it out for you... but hell, with all the podcasting and whatnot, who knows if I'll ever have time to make these anyway? That said, homg, plis don't steal them.
- Dean character vid to AC/DC's Thunderstruck. In-progress, about 10 seconds done (dude, it's fucking hard).
- Sam character vid, companion piece to the above to Radiohead's Street Spirit (not even started).
- Lame funny vid to a Beatallica song. About a minute done.
- Lame funny Colt vid to the last minute or so of "We both reached for the gun" (from Chicago). Also about a minute done.
- Oh boy, started this one real early, never got around to finishing: A 'Faith' Wincest episode vid to Limp Bizkit's cover of "Faith" (a-well I guess it would be ni-ice...).
- A kids & creatures "don't look under your bed" type fan-trailer.
- A demon/winchester narrative arc fan-trailer.
- A Winchester Four vid to The Waif's Flesh and Bone.
- A Dean/John vid to Snow Patrol's Set Fire to the Third Bar.
Yeah. one day.
Other WIPs? Converting Super-canon to a wiki so I can announce it and get people to contribute already; the goddamn podcast; updating my Super-recs; oh, and right. that academic career thing I'm supposedly working on. Right.