Current mood:

awake

in which I am a geeky fangirl and share that geekery.
I haven't written fan fiction in ages, yet I have this burning desire to write a Gossip Girl/Harriet the Spy crossover. It makes sense in a way, okay? Especially if you use the movie as the jump point, and if you consider that Harriet was an Upper East Sider as well. Don't judge me.

Okay, I have written some fan fiction in the past few years, but I haven't finished any of it, so I have like, these fragments of stories.

Like this one. This one was supposed to be "Five Women That Dean Winchester Met", and it was going to be a crossover with Doctor Who, Pirates of the Caribbean, Lost, and... two other shows that I can't remember. I only wrote part of when Dean met Rose (and the Tenth Doctor):

"An alien," Dean said, still incredulous. "That... thing was an alien."

The man in the suit had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels, red Chucks in the grass. "Precisely," he said in an obnoxiously chipper voice. "What did you think it was... what'd you say your name was again?"

"That was an alien," Sam repeated, completely ignoring the question.

The man in the suit's companion—blonde, female, and pretty in pink (well, in a pink jacket, at least)—nodded. Dean was surprised at her nonchalance. Most girls in her position would've been in hysterics, shrieking and clawing and cowering as the alien charged at them, but she'd stood there completely still, like a deer in the headlights. She'd only yelled out one thing: "Doctor!", and then the thing had exploded as soon as the rock salt hit it. "That's salt!" she exclaimed, circling around the smoldering remains of the alien. "You shot at it with salt."

And then there is this one: another Lost/Supernatural crossover with Sam seeing ghost!Shannon in his dreams, and that was totally inspired by this picture I can't find of Jared Padalecki and Maggie Grace lying in the grass together.

The girl that Sam dreams of reminds him of Jess a little—it's the blonde hair and the long legs, and the little smile that plays on her lips. She's almost tall enough to look him in the eye, just like Jess was, but there's some kind of sadness about her that he can't quite put his finger on. He wakes up wondering why—why she laughs at him and always seems to run away, why she sometime pauses and stares off in the distance, why tears seem to fill her eyes when she whispers, "Dance with me," to him.

He always wakes up whenever she asks.

Also: I have 70 pages of my novel-type thing. Well, it's closer to 66, because I got severely blocked on one chapter and went down two blank pages because I will later fill that in with something substantial, but still! It's something! And it's better than my last NaNo attempt, which only had four pages total.