Sep. 3rd, 2008

superbadgirl: (winchesters)
Sometimes I do read SPN fic. I go in stages - I won't read at all, and then one day all I'll do is read. Then I'm back to not reading again. One thing I can't get into is

First of all, I really hate the term Wee!Chester. Really, I do. It annoys me. Maybe because when I think wee, I think of the definition that doesn't mean small.

Mostly, though, I can't even give most fic exploring the Winchesters' early years a chance because far, far too many authors villify John. I cannot tell you the number of stories I've tested out and had to back away from because John was turned into an abusive son of a bitch. I don't just mean the issues of neglect were a hot fic topic - that, I can understand. It happened. John made those mistakes. I'm not even talking John from Sam's fairly skewed point of view (I could see him thinking everything John said was denigrating to him). I'm talking out-and-out abuse.

Example: Sam falls down and skins his knee, and John rips into him, belittles him, and intimidates him. Dean, meanwhile, stands around. (Seriously?)

Example: Sam or Dean is on deathbed. Multiple phone calls to John get no response. (Uhm, yeah, I know people are extrapolating this from Faith, when Sam calls John and gets no reply. I get it, I do, but I guess I warp fanon into the fact John keeps constant tabs on his boys, though they don't know where he is. He had to stay away to protect them. That was his thinking, not that he was a cold, callous bastard who didn't care his son was dying.)

It's really a shame, because though I'm not into kidfic in any way, shape or form, this particular fandom has an abundance of possibilities to explore. Dean and Sam's formative years had to have been traumatic, and yet something about it also bonded them together and kept them as decent people. Sure, Sam took off for a couple years (can't blame him for that, though even in my limited experience I've seen people unforgiving on that topic too), but I never took that to mean he didn't love his family. He just hated what they did.

And, sure, John was probably a tough taskmaster most of the time, but he had to do something right to have his sons not end up being sociopaths. (See: Nightmare) I know people think the only thing that saved Dean and Sam was each other, but...that's a very romantic (literary) notion. I think John screwed both of his kids up and didn't necessarily show them love the way they each needed; he was too screwed up himself. But that love was there. He was not a demon. (Well, you know, except that one time.) I think by the end of S1, both Dean and Sam were starting to realize their individual perspective was not the only one.

Anyway, I'm rambling without coherency. John seems to be very black and white in fandom. I tend to see the guy as all kinds of grey. Seeing him turned into a bigger villian than a MotW in fanfiction is not my cuppa. In fact, it makes me angry.
superbadgirl: (bus stop)
Lawsy-Loo, it just isn't my commuting week. Yesterday I had to chase the morning bus down the street and barely hopped on as it kept rolling. I pretended I was a hobo trying to get aboard a moving train. (I made this up. The bus wasn't moving, the driver just let me in the back door because he was getting ready to move.)

Tonight, I sat at the bus stop by work. And sat and sat and sat. This isn't unusual. That route is hardly reliable. Finally, after fifteen bajillion people walked by me, some guy named Jeff (he had a name badge) stopped and told me it would be, like, two hours before the route would be back to normal, on account of the crackhead who plowed into a gas pump up on E. Roy. I think one must have to be really high to be unable to avoid speeding up and taking out a gas pump. Anyway, you cannot tell me one of those other fourteen people walking away from the scene of the crime didn't know the scoop and couldn't have shared it with me. Jeff admired my tattoo and made me uncomfortable as he walked me back to the office, regaling me with stories of his arthritic hips which he got from too much bike riding.

I fled Jeff, grabbed a pair of sneakers from my office closet (ha ha, mock me now, you shoe-mockers!) and walked to Broadway and E. John. Got on the #8, tripped over a tenant from my former employer, the Vermin Inn, avoided chit chat with him, made a pit stop at Bartell's in Lower QA, barely hopped on the #2x, where I accidentally sat on some guy's lap. Awkward apologies were exchanged, and the very second he was able he moved seats. I was finally home free.

Theme song: Take The Long Way Home. Wheeeee, Supertramp!

On the plus and totally unrelated side, I had a fabulous hair day today. The mile or so walk didn't destroy it, either.

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