DVD Commentary Meme

[citrusjava]

Via the wonderful balder12 .

I haven't written all that much, but I really like the idea of this meme, so why not :)
(like my memes in general, feel free to change the rules a bit if you want to, no need to ask. Just no triggers and such, please)

Go to my AO3 page or my masterlist (or both, cause I've been bad about updating) and pick a passage from my stories, up to 500 words, and comment to this post with that selection (title or link to the story being excerpted will be very helpful).

I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the characters' heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the story, awful puns [perhaps], and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track. You can ask me anything - character motivation, writing process, or if you disagree with the direction I took in a story, ask me to defend it.

Comments

[frozen_delight]

This is a fun idea. And a nice way of discovering your writing. Here's the passage I'd like to hear more about (whatever comes to your mind, preferably something to do with the books and Sam and Dean's relationship):

It sort of amazed Sam the Men of Letters bothered to put complex dust prevention spells on the place, to create acoustics specific to different book sections, but didn't bother to catalogue most of the books. Particularly with all those junior Men of Letters in training, cheap educated labor force, eager to prove themselves. Sam could imagine spending his summer vacation cataloging, peaceful stacks of books, the whole world muffled in soft carpeting, and all that interesting knowledge and beauty at his fingertips. He would have done that for sure, just for credit the false hope of a chance at a TA position.

Sam shook cobwebs out of his hair, breathing the scent of old paper. It was very close to the scent of the Conroe library he'd spent weeks doing research in when he was twelve, and they were living in Cut and Shoot, Texas. It wasn't urgent research, just a little work to help out Bobby. It had been a kindness to dad, away for weeks hunting near the northern border. A kindness to Sam maybe, made up to keep him occupied while Dean was at work.

He'd spent most of his time curled up between the shelves, not sitting by the neon-lit tables. No one talked to him for hours, for most of the day. Not a lot of people drawn to the ancient languages shelf over summer vacation. It was good. In the evenings Dean would come pick him up, damp and smelling of machine oil, flashing his grin at Sam alone, and they'd walk the five miles back to the motel together, along the highway, as the huge open sky started to contrast against the stars.

The scent was the same, comforting and thick. Almost juicy. Brought back the feeling of thick, unbleached pages under his fingers, the cool scent of metal shelves high above the rich earthy books scents all around. The feel of Dean's roughening hands, black dug into the patterns on his skin, showing off the intricate swirly lines.

It's from "A Cup of Tea Large Enough".

[balder12.livejournal.com]

The realization explodes in his chest with pain and relief. He is not Dean, not the real one. There is another Dean out there, one who stands a chance of stopping this. To figure out what's happening with Cas before - Dean doesn't know before what, but it can't be good.
Dean wants to –

He grabs for Cas' leg as Cas passes, and Cas startles, bends down to Dean, clinging to ruthless irritation.

"Cas", Dean says, more croak than word.

Cas looks at him, lips soft, like he wants to take Dean in, like he could burry his head in Dean's chest and cry. Dean wants to pat Cas' back and make it all better. To figure out that thing inside of him and fix it. Mortifying things Dean would never say, would never allow himself to think.

But he is not really Dean. Almost for sure. He is not Dean, so he can just do whatever he fucking wants to.

Cas moves two fingers towards Dean's forehead, with great effort. Stops before he could touch. Zones in and out, internal struggle.

Dean bullies his less twisted arm into lifting, just a little. Managed tolput it on Cas' face, leans it on Cas' jaw, and the corner of Cas' lips is just as soft as he'd thought it would be. Annoying, to be - Dean could just – if he could move or Cas just moved -

Cas' eyes widen, shocked, blessed, then suspicious. He leans in slowly, like he's dropping, floating, breath coming out of him warm, deflating. So close to Dean -

This is not helping his struggle. Cas closes his eyes, concentrating, but that – but it isn't –

Cas pulls away from Deans hand and looks at it, long and wry. Then, wild and jerky, he moves his own hand away from Dean's forehead.

"You're not really him", he says. Explaining, hoping for forgiveness.

Then everything stops.


I'd love to hear how you came up with the idea of writing from the pov of a duplicate Dean, which I love, and how how you ended up writing D/C. :D Side note: looking at this fic again reminded me that we had an early, 'getting to know you' conversation in the comments, which I'd totally forgotten.