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Because I definitely have to many...
Otoh, I'm doing a lot of free writing every day on 750words.com. Sometimes it goes into one of the bunnies, sometimes it's just backstory that helps get an idea what will actually happen in the story.
And sometimes it's alternate POV stuff --
Frigg looked across the great plain. The booths and pavilions of giants and gods were going up all over the field, and soon the assembly would be hallowed and opened, and the Law spoken from the Rock.
"Frost and Fire!" her stepson bellowed from the edge of their encampment.
The Einherjar soldiers beside her bristled, and reached for their weapons. Odin's sworn-men, the ghosts were, and still loyal to her, but they were very nervous after the events on Midgard. Frigg herself was unsettled, and mourning. Odin had not been a faithful husband, or even someone she liked all the time, but they had jogged along quite well in their fashion.
She took the ghosts, and hurried towards were Thor was, finding him by his pavilion grumbling and cursing.
"What, what is it?"
"They're actually showing up! Those fuckers!" Vidarr yelled his outraged, while Thor continued to pace in circles and grumbled, like a footsore bear.
"Who?" Frigg asked, but she knew, she knew. She had seen terrible fragments sitting in her husband's high-seat, and she knew.
"The Wolves," Heimdall said, as he looked out over the plain and the mountains with his eagle-sharp eyes. "Ironwood has come to the All-Thing at last."
Ironwood -- Járnvidia, who had loved Fenrir-Ulf in her youth. The most ferocious, most clannish kingdom of Jotunheim was attending the All-Thing where Odin's successor would be decided. They were a dry pine tree thrown into a bonfire, sure to make things pop and snap and explode.
"Worse," Tyr said gloomily, and pointed to the sky, "look there."
A shape of wings, a four-pointed knife in the air like a dragonfly, cut through the sky. It rolled, and dropped for long moments, growing larger, until it skimmed by the caravan of Wolves and flipped up into the sky again, climbing until it looked no larger than a mite.
Heimdall hissed, and growled, "Loki... it has to be..."
"Not chained, after all," Tyr said. "I knew it."
"Yes, you were right," Thor snapped. "Now shut up about it. We're going to have to present an united face if we don't want him to ruin everything."
Frigg turned away, and covered her mouth with her hands. She had seen this, seen the Wolves coming -- it was worse than anything Odin had ever told her of. It was the Unweaving -- the Norns' work undone until there was no pattern and no future, not even Ragnarok.
It was worse than she thought it could be, because she watched from the vantage point of the Aes camp high on the hill.
The Wolves had chosen the far side of the Thing-plain, and were setting up their camp. They eschewed booths, and barely set up pavilions -- bare roofs for their thralls, and the small number of un-Wolfish youths and maids they brought to every Thing they attended, trying to settle their non-monstrous children among the proper Jotuns.
But she had seen the Wolf that was not just enormous as all the monsters were, but with fire in his eyes and at his feet, and with a golden ribbon wrapped around his neck. Fenrir-ulf was free -- free and at the All-Thing. The First Cow alone knew what he would do, what he wanted. It was hardly likely that he would be kind enough to forgive, or even to demand mere compensation. There was every chance he'd challenge some of the Aes to duels, and she feared for her sons against the son of Loki.
Not to mention Loki himself. She'd seen him land, changing from a ridiculous shape of feathers to his usual self, somewhat short for a Jotun, somewhat harmless looking, all smiles and lovely eyes and daggers behind his teeth. She knew that he was a monster under his skin, as much as his Jotun children were. He'd cause chaos just because he could, and he'd caused her hurt – has taken her Baldur from her – just because he wanted to, once. And now that Frigg knew what he was, what he had been once at least – Freyja had taken that dead madman Loki had worn like a coat into her service, and good riddance, because Frigg never wanted anything that looked that much like Loki in Valhalla ever again! – she was twice as wary of the thing that was not Jotun or Aes but had called himself both, and friend of Odin, once.
She'd even seen milky, mousy Sigyn, she was sure of it. Her husband's niece was hardly remarkable, but the silver-gilt hair had stood out from all the grey and brown and brindle Wolves. And she'd worn an apron-dress like a proper woman, but was one of the few not starring at the ground, submissive and despicable as the thralls were.
Frigg sighed, and straightened her skirts. She would call upon the Wolves, as queen of Asgard to the King of the Ironwood, and hope that was enough for a more than polite reception. Járnvidia could be gracious, if the mood suited her, and the woman king must have some reason to attend the All-Thing besides the obvious, because the Wolves only came in fullness rarely. Usually it was a bare handful of observers, and a proxy voice for the king's vote.
What did the Wolves want, but to disrupt the election, and cause and settle feuds with other giants? Why had the king herself come to the All-Thing?
- "The Man Comes Around" -- currently 20,000+ words of post 5.10 epic conflict, including Sam, Dean, Anna, Castiel, Gabriel, and an entire garrison of defectors who have tossed their swords down and sworn fealty to mankind in the form of Dean Winchester, Chosen of God and a three-way showdown at Armageddon [stalled! send help! send search dogs!]
- "Neither Sword Nor Plowshare" -- barely outlined sequel to the above, possibly a Criminal Minds crossover, featuring a killer who is stalking and killing Dean's Garrison one by one and the FBI agents who think they've found a murderous cult that uses angel code-names.
- "Troll-killing for Fun and Profit" -- how a 10th century Icelandic hay-farmer became the Vessel of Gabriel. Features witches, trolls, an unhelpful archangel, Icelandic settlement culture, and possibly entirely unhelpful gods [stalled, and Jossed]
- "The Saga of the Brothers Winchester" -- aka Four Vessels in a Car. After the Apocalypse, Jimmy Novak gets to go home. Unfortunately, there are three other traumatized angel Vessels with him. He really doesn't want to see the Winchesters ever again, and the Viking is simply terrifying, but they're his only ride out of Detroit [stalled].
- "Ostriches and Angels" -- wee!chesters fic. John Winchester rents a house in a small town to lay up in for several months, and promptly starts feuding with the next door neighbors, a strange and suspicious couple called Milton. Sam, of course, has made friends with their awkward son, Cas. Dean does not think it's fair that he has to be the sane one. [God help me, this wants to be a Sassy fic!]
- "The Apotheosis of Sam Winchester" -- the actual canon-compliant bunny, and sequel to We Sat Down and Wept. Sam Winchester crawls out of Hell using applied metaphysics, and end up in Jotunheim, recuperating in the hall of the werewolf king. He plays security blanket to a traumatized archangel, gets flirted with by goddesses, parties with dead heroes, and learns a lot about himself, usually in the most confusing ways possible. [in progress]
- "Son of Laufey" -- how the archangel Gabriel skipped out of Heaven, changed his face, got adopted (several times), ruined his life, and carved out his own private witness protection. [in progress, and good lord, Gabriel is a genderbending horndog]
- "untitled" -- response to this prompt at the G/S AU and RPS comment-fic thread. Alternate 4th season -- Castiel informs Sam and Dean about a seal that can be broken with a ritual slaying of a pagan god at a certain time and place, and orders them to prevent it from happening. When the Winchesters try, they find the Trickster already interfering, and have to fend him off while rescuing the captured forest god. Nothing goes as planned in the end -- maybe someone should have informed the demons that trying to sacrifice Fenrir Godslayer was a really bad idea? [has plot outline]
Otoh, I'm doing a lot of free writing every day on 750words.com. Sometimes it goes into one of the bunnies, sometimes it's just backstory that helps get an idea what will actually happen in the story.
And sometimes it's alternate POV stuff --
Frigg looked across the great plain. The booths and pavilions of giants and gods were going up all over the field, and soon the assembly would be hallowed and opened, and the Law spoken from the Rock.
"Frost and Fire!" her stepson bellowed from the edge of their encampment.
The Einherjar soldiers beside her bristled, and reached for their weapons. Odin's sworn-men, the ghosts were, and still loyal to her, but they were very nervous after the events on Midgard. Frigg herself was unsettled, and mourning. Odin had not been a faithful husband, or even someone she liked all the time, but they had jogged along quite well in their fashion.
She took the ghosts, and hurried towards were Thor was, finding him by his pavilion grumbling and cursing.
"What, what is it?"
"They're actually showing up! Those fuckers!" Vidarr yelled his outraged, while Thor continued to pace in circles and grumbled, like a footsore bear.
"Who?" Frigg asked, but she knew, she knew. She had seen terrible fragments sitting in her husband's high-seat, and she knew.
"The Wolves," Heimdall said, as he looked out over the plain and the mountains with his eagle-sharp eyes. "Ironwood has come to the All-Thing at last."
Ironwood -- Járnvidia, who had loved Fenrir-Ulf in her youth. The most ferocious, most clannish kingdom of Jotunheim was attending the All-Thing where Odin's successor would be decided. They were a dry pine tree thrown into a bonfire, sure to make things pop and snap and explode.
"Worse," Tyr said gloomily, and pointed to the sky, "look there."
A shape of wings, a four-pointed knife in the air like a dragonfly, cut through the sky. It rolled, and dropped for long moments, growing larger, until it skimmed by the caravan of Wolves and flipped up into the sky again, climbing until it looked no larger than a mite.
Heimdall hissed, and growled, "Loki... it has to be..."
"Not chained, after all," Tyr said. "I knew it."
"Yes, you were right," Thor snapped. "Now shut up about it. We're going to have to present an united face if we don't want him to ruin everything."
Frigg turned away, and covered her mouth with her hands. She had seen this, seen the Wolves coming -- it was worse than anything Odin had ever told her of. It was the Unweaving -- the Norns' work undone until there was no pattern and no future, not even Ragnarok.
It was worse than she thought it could be, because she watched from the vantage point of the Aes camp high on the hill.
The Wolves had chosen the far side of the Thing-plain, and were setting up their camp. They eschewed booths, and barely set up pavilions -- bare roofs for their thralls, and the small number of un-Wolfish youths and maids they brought to every Thing they attended, trying to settle their non-monstrous children among the proper Jotuns.
But she had seen the Wolf that was not just enormous as all the monsters were, but with fire in his eyes and at his feet, and with a golden ribbon wrapped around his neck. Fenrir-ulf was free -- free and at the All-Thing. The First Cow alone knew what he would do, what he wanted. It was hardly likely that he would be kind enough to forgive, or even to demand mere compensation. There was every chance he'd challenge some of the Aes to duels, and she feared for her sons against the son of Loki.
Not to mention Loki himself. She'd seen him land, changing from a ridiculous shape of feathers to his usual self, somewhat short for a Jotun, somewhat harmless looking, all smiles and lovely eyes and daggers behind his teeth. She knew that he was a monster under his skin, as much as his Jotun children were. He'd cause chaos just because he could, and he'd caused her hurt – has taken her Baldur from her – just because he wanted to, once. And now that Frigg knew what he was, what he had been once at least – Freyja had taken that dead madman Loki had worn like a coat into her service, and good riddance, because Frigg never wanted anything that looked that much like Loki in Valhalla ever again! – she was twice as wary of the thing that was not Jotun or Aes but had called himself both, and friend of Odin, once.
She'd even seen milky, mousy Sigyn, she was sure of it. Her husband's niece was hardly remarkable, but the silver-gilt hair had stood out from all the grey and brown and brindle Wolves. And she'd worn an apron-dress like a proper woman, but was one of the few not starring at the ground, submissive and despicable as the thralls were.
Frigg sighed, and straightened her skirts. She would call upon the Wolves, as queen of Asgard to the King of the Ironwood, and hope that was enough for a more than polite reception. Járnvidia could be gracious, if the mood suited her, and the woman king must have some reason to attend the All-Thing besides the obvious, because the Wolves only came in fullness rarely. Usually it was a bare handful of observers, and a proxy voice for the king's vote.
What did the Wolves want, but to disrupt the election, and cause and settle feuds with other giants? Why had the king herself come to the All-Thing?
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And now I'm picturing Dean hearing that the BAU had had a run-in with somebody claiming to be Raphael (though why this would be mentioned in his presence I don't know) and laughing his ass off.
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Well, there is a really good SPN/CM crossover Eat It, Twilight where that DOES happen, and the poor BAU agents complete fails to deal.
I'd be more worried about Gabriel messing with FBI agents.
And now I'm picturing Dean hearing that the BAU had had a run-in with somebody claiming to be Raphael (though why this would be mentioned in his presence I don't know) and laughing his ass off.
I dunno. Dean might believe them, and freak out. It's not like he doesn't know angels can jump into new bodies...
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Yeah, but Dean wouldn't know that until he actually talked to the BAU agents. I think his first reaction would be to tense up, but once he heard the story, he'd shake his head and laugh.