I'm all moved in for the most part, catching up on everything I've missed. I spent last week at an academic conference in Idaho, which was mentally/socially taxing. But on my way home I had the opportunity to meet up with snickfic and spend a long layover in her care, which was both mentally and socially beautiful. I'm so glad I got to meet you in person, bb! You're awesome. <33333 We viewed a waterfall (and then saw that same waterfall in the opening credits of Twin Peaks), ate delectable sushi, hung out, talked fic and fandoms and TV of all sorts, and she gave me the cutest SPN socks from Hot Topic--or "the Hot Topical," as it were. ;)
Then I took the world's longest flight back to Detroit (I went from Pullman, ID to Seattle, WA for a 13 hour layover, to Phoenix, AZ for an unscheduled overnighter--THANKS, AMERICAN AIRLINES, FUCK YOU--to Detroit, so essentially every single direction away from Detroit before actually making any progress toward it), and here I am!
I finally had some time to continue on Summer Plotfic Project this morning; I was afraid that after over a week's hiatus I wouldn't be able to get back into it, but I think it's going as well as it ever was. I'm about 8k in, which leads me to suspect that this is meant to be a longer fic than I expected it to be, but I'm just going to go with the flow. Here's a teaser, wherein Dean is also apparently going with the flow:
Dean comes awake in pieces. It's something he knows he's done at least a couple times already, wobbling across the threshold of consciousness as puttied brains are wont to do. He feels concussed and like he's gone too long without a drink, though both these things are better than others he's felt, so he might actually have to file this a win. Of course, there are other factors which, as he stutters into working order, tally something like this:
1) The Stynes are major investors in duct tape. It pulls like a tacky rope at the skin around his wrists, and his lungs burn when he tries to cough and the eruption of air doesn't quite know where to go; he's just lucky he remembered to shave recently.
2) Yup, legs all trussed up too.
3) They've been thrown someplace metal, ridged for grip like the bed of a truck, with a heavy, noxiously vinyl tarp thrown over the top of them. Sam's jammed up painfully against Dean's pelvis like they're spooning, and there's someone else's breathing in there with them, smaller and quicker than Sam's, which Dean presumes is Charlie.
Well, he figures, at least they're all together.
Hope you all are well. <3