Blood will Flow

I've just had to ping off a grovelling apology to the lovely val_kagami because I just can't seem to get my head round this sporting fic I signed up for what seems like a decade ago.  I thought I'd cracked it yesterday, but no.  I've really got no further than the initial idea and my brain just can't seem to find any enthusiasm or inspiration to move it from a basic premise to an actual story.

So here I am, pulling out at the tenth hour (not quite the eleventh as posting date was supposed to be 3 days hence).  And I feel bad about it, even though I know it's only fanfic and only for fun.  And it isn't as though I have a huge fanbase all gagging for my next master work! LOL

On a happier note - Hurrah for our Parliament doing the right thing for once!  Finally the bill has been passed that will allow two people who love each other to get married and have the same status as a married couple regardless of whether they are marrying the opposite sex or the same sex.  Welcome to the 21st century and why has it taken so bloody long, eh?  Just what is it that frightens people so much about same gender relationships?  It's not as if world population is under threat of decline, so what other semi-rational reason can there be for opposing it?

And on that note, mild SPOILER for last night...

HEE!!! Dean's gay thing...and his disappointment that it came to nought was so adorable.

Title: The Return of the Wild Man of Orford
Author/Artist: amber1960
Beta: dizzojay
Country: England
Type: Fic with art
Characters/Pairing: Gen: Sam, Dean & Bobby, OCs
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Set in Season 7, possible spoilers up to episode 7ish
Warnings: None
Summary: Sam is at his wits end. Dean is missing, presumed kidnapped by Leviathans; meanwhile on a pebble beach in Suffolk, England, an ancient legend appears to be reinventing itself.

Additional work/works - PDF download fic with art: URLby amber1960

The Return of the Wild Man of Orford

The only colours were greys and greens, and sometimes blues.

The only sensation was pain and an all-pervading cold.

Early on, he thought perhaps he remembered a time when it wasn’t like this, when there had been other things to see/hear/taste/feel – but those thoughts had become too difficult to hold onto, they slipped through his mind just like the water surrounding him slid through his clumsy fingers when he reached out to grasp it, and after a while he had stopped trying.  A little more time passed (or a lot of time, he had no way of knowing), and he stopped thinking altogether.

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