excerpts from my works in progress
Jan. 20th, 2006 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
escritoireazulI need to head to bed soon; though normally I'm off on Saturdays, I'm going in for a couple of hours tomorrow to cover the office while L., the actual guy working in the office tomorrow, can help install a windshield. Not just any windshield, but a nice eighteen wheeler windshield. Not a split one, either, which I could have helped set, but a full one, too big for any one person.
So a couple hours at work, and then I'm off to the post office, and then I'm home because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thestalkycop and I have plans to talk and plot and write. We were up way too late last night doing just that. I planned on writing tonight, and emailing it to her so it would be there when she woke up, but then I remembered I had to finish and clean up my feedback for melannen, so no writing for me.
While I wind down, I'm going to post excerpts from my stories, something I've seen all over.
+ "You Can Have It All, My Empire Of Dirt" (BtVS, Buffy pov)
Each match was saved carefully, darkened tips lined up side by side in a small, wooden box. They were wasted, useless, trapped; she stared at them at night, when her inner urges became too strong to ignore, the need to patrol, to hunt, to feel her blows land, to feel power in her blood.
One match for the feel of Dawn’s hair spilling down her arm as her sister rested her head against Buffy’s shoulder, leaning in, taking her strength. One match for the vision of Giles, his glasses in his hands, blood dripping down his face. One match for Willow, eyes black, hair gone, consumed by her own magic.
One match for Spike, two matches for Spike, ten, a hundred, for the soul burning as he leapt, putting himself between her and death, between her and pain—between her and freedom from this mortality.
I started this during season seven, but never finished it. I still plan to do so, even though I've never liked Buffy's character, and she's meant to be sympathetic in this, which is probably why I've never finished it. I'm also not a Buffy/Spike shipper, but there you go.
I do like alternate endings, so I really should finish this, even though it's obviously nothing at all like what happened.
+ "Untitled" (BtVS, Faith pov, forthestalkycop)
When the woman is close enough, Faith speaks. “I’m Faith,” she says, and runs a hand from her shoulder to her hip, making sure to touch everything in between before she holds it out for the woman to shake.
“I know,” she says, and doesn’t offer her name. Her fingers are cold, her grip firm, and for a second Faith has this flash, like a Slayer dream—except she’s pretty sure she’s wide awake—all prophetic, that she just might be in for some trouble. “Walk with me.”
Faith doesn’t like orders much, but the woman tucks her arm through Faith’s, brushes her knuckles against the side of Faith’s breasts in the process, and Faith walks along at her side, docile, while liquid fire pools between her thighs.
The woman has one hell of a touch.
This one will be finished, maybe even this weekend. It's a terribly late holiday story for my girl, and the woman leading Faith around right then is Shauna, who some of you may know from "Queertet Revisited". You won't recognize her much in this, because she's all grown up and she's nothing like a cheerleader anymore.
+ "Five Things Adam Banks Didn't Do At His Reunion (the will he, won't he remix)" (Mighty Ducks, Adam pov) is a work in progress because I still can't post it yet, damn it.
He finds a nice girl, a powerful girl, a rich girl, and when he dates her, he finds out she’s not as nice as the rest of the world thinks, but she is rich, much richer than he is, and she is powerful, much more than he wants to be, and she has goals, just like Julie.
I really love this story, and though the Butterfly Ficathon fell flat, I want to post it anyway. I'll have to talk tothestalkycop about it tomorrow.
+ "Untitled" (X-Men movieverse, Bobby pov)
(It’s like there’s a two-person minimum, just as soon as they got back from Alkali Lake, Professor X brought in Ms. Frost, and she wasn’t much like Dr. Grey, except she seemed to like Mr. Summers a lot and she knew everyone’s thoughts. She wore short skirts and tight shirts, and she smiled just a little too much whenever anyone stared. Professor X said he stayed out of their minds when it wasn’t necessary, and all telepaths should follow that rule, but Ms. Frost must have a different definition of necessary.)
This is being written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
xmmficathon as a backup and it's almost done. Really I just need to edit it and post, which will also probably be done this weekend. I'm not a big fan of Bobby, but he's growing on me. (Unfortunately, this isn't a companion piece to Pyretic and now I've just been hit with an idea how to write it, too. Damn.)
+ "Untitled" (X-Men movieverse, Piotr pov)
Still, Piotr isn’t worried about the Wolverine, he’s worried about Logan, and in his mind, the two are not mutually inclusive. Wolverine steals motorcycles and hits on all the women and doesn’t ever get hurt, not really. No matter what the soldiers do to him, he’ll survive.
Logan, though—ah, Logan, who sits in the shadows of the mansion and smokes almost every night he’s in residence. The smoke curls around his face and all his features are hidden in the darkness, all but his eyes which reflect the light like black metal. Piotr wants to paint him when he watches Logan lounge, jeans, flannel shirt, cigar. Logan stretches out his legs, crosses his arms over his chest, and bites down on the cigar. Sometimes Logan twists it between his fingers and tells stories. He’s traveled a lot and seen just about everything. On good nights, he doesn’t mind sharing the few things he remembers.
I started this forkphoebe because she encouraged my love of metalangst so much. (Mostly Piotr-->Wolverine in Ultimate X-Men, but movieverse can work, too.) And she wrote me a series of X-Men/Harry Potter crossovers which are the best things in the world. SHE WROTE BILL/GAMBIT. And then later she wrote BILL/GAMBIT/OZ because she loves me. I'm off track here. I will finish this one, I just need to do it.
+ "she likes the violence in her sex" (X-Men movieverse, Rogue pov)
It just wasn’t fair, how careful they had to be, the condom and so many clothes—gloves, slit-panties and tights, skirt, shirt—nothing uncovered but their faces, eyes, lips, and maybe he was thinking about his wife or how much trouble this was, not worth it, but she’d never know, she wasn’t Jean, but wait. Just one little touch and she would.
This is a Rogue/Gambit story which may never be finished, because I can't get the right words. I really liked it, though, when I had the idea and now on the reread, so maybe I will.
+ "Queertet Revisited" (Mighty Ducks, multiple povs)
“I mean I’m so jealous I can’t think straight.” The words spilled out too fast to edit. “My grades are slipping because when I look at anything all I see is them, together, that damn hockey player pushing me out of my whole world!” She met Jez’s gaze and amended herself. “When I look at almost anything, I mean. Why is this so hard? Best friends aren’t supposed to get jealous of a boyfriend.”
I can't really say much about this, because it will give away too much of the plot. This doesn't, this is pretty obvious already in whatthestalkycop and I have posted. I wanted to post a paragraph a little farther down, but I can't, because it does give too much away. Heh. This will absolutely be done, we've got quite a bit more written already.
+ "Untitled" (BtVS/Harry Potter/X-Men, Oz pov)
(He remembers the smell of magic, the taste on his tongue. Willow was sugar, candy floss, and a honey glaze, too sweet but he always wanted more. He thinks this man, this Bill, wouldn't taste sweet at all.)
Magic with a wand, that's a little different, but one spell's just like another, at the base, after all those layers strip away. It's familiar, makes him a little homesick even, but he doesn't have a home anymore, just a big, rocky crater and too many memories.
This is my Oz/Bill/Gambit story. It will definitely be finished. Maybe this weekend, as I'm suddenly driven with the need to write more of it.
I have a hard time titling stories until I have them almost done.
I thought about going to the movies after work today (we have Glory Road and Underworld: Evolution right now, and a couple others I'd like to see) but I couldn't be bothered. Mostly because the ones I really want to see (Transamerica and Brokeback Mountain) we will never get any closer than St. Louis (and I'm not driving to St. Louis again for awhile, not after the last time) and I couldn't fathom going out in public after the week I've had. I am over-stimulated, over-socialized, and I needed time alone, which I got.
I watched High School Musical on Disney, which was actually mostly cute, and was thrilled to learn Amanda Mischalka (I think I just butchered her name) is in an upcoming made-for-tv Disney movie, because it means there will be more pictures of her floating around, and as she's the closest approximation of "Queertet Revisited" aged Anna, this is a good thing.
Bed now.
So a couple hours at work, and then I'm off to the post office, and then I'm home because
thestalkycop and I have plans to talk and plot and write. We were up way too late last night doing just that. I planned on writing tonight, and emailing it to her so it would be there when she woke up, but then I remembered I had to finish and clean up my feedback for melannen, so no writing for me.While I wind down, I'm going to post excerpts from my stories, something I've seen all over.
+ "You Can Have It All, My Empire Of Dirt" (BtVS, Buffy pov)
Each match was saved carefully, darkened tips lined up side by side in a small, wooden box. They were wasted, useless, trapped; she stared at them at night, when her inner urges became too strong to ignore, the need to patrol, to hunt, to feel her blows land, to feel power in her blood.
One match for the feel of Dawn’s hair spilling down her arm as her sister rested her head against Buffy’s shoulder, leaning in, taking her strength. One match for the vision of Giles, his glasses in his hands, blood dripping down his face. One match for Willow, eyes black, hair gone, consumed by her own magic.
One match for Spike, two matches for Spike, ten, a hundred, for the soul burning as he leapt, putting himself between her and death, between her and pain—between her and freedom from this mortality.
I started this during season seven, but never finished it. I still plan to do so, even though I've never liked Buffy's character, and she's meant to be sympathetic in this, which is probably why I've never finished it. I'm also not a Buffy/Spike shipper, but there you go.
I do like alternate endings, so I really should finish this, even though it's obviously nothing at all like what happened.
+ "Untitled" (BtVS, Faith pov, for
thestalkycop)When the woman is close enough, Faith speaks. “I’m Faith,” she says, and runs a hand from her shoulder to her hip, making sure to touch everything in between before she holds it out for the woman to shake.
“I know,” she says, and doesn’t offer her name. Her fingers are cold, her grip firm, and for a second Faith has this flash, like a Slayer dream—except she’s pretty sure she’s wide awake—all prophetic, that she just might be in for some trouble. “Walk with me.”
Faith doesn’t like orders much, but the woman tucks her arm through Faith’s, brushes her knuckles against the side of Faith’s breasts in the process, and Faith walks along at her side, docile, while liquid fire pools between her thighs.
The woman has one hell of a touch.
This one will be finished, maybe even this weekend. It's a terribly late holiday story for my girl, and the woman leading Faith around right then is Shauna, who some of you may know from "Queertet Revisited". You won't recognize her much in this, because she's all grown up and she's nothing like a cheerleader anymore.
+ "Five Things Adam Banks Didn't Do At His Reunion (the will he, won't he remix)" (Mighty Ducks, Adam pov) is a work in progress because I still can't post it yet, damn it.
He finds a nice girl, a powerful girl, a rich girl, and when he dates her, he finds out she’s not as nice as the rest of the world thinks, but she is rich, much richer than he is, and she is powerful, much more than he wants to be, and she has goals, just like Julie.
I really love this story, and though the Butterfly Ficathon fell flat, I want to post it anyway. I'll have to talk to
thestalkycop about it tomorrow.+ "Untitled" (X-Men movieverse, Bobby pov)
(It’s like there’s a two-person minimum, just as soon as they got back from Alkali Lake, Professor X brought in Ms. Frost, and she wasn’t much like Dr. Grey, except she seemed to like Mr. Summers a lot and she knew everyone’s thoughts. She wore short skirts and tight shirts, and she smiled just a little too much whenever anyone stared. Professor X said he stayed out of their minds when it wasn’t necessary, and all telepaths should follow that rule, but Ms. Frost must have a different definition of necessary.)
This is being written for the
xmmficathon as a backup and it's almost done. Really I just need to edit it and post, which will also probably be done this weekend. I'm not a big fan of Bobby, but he's growing on me. (Unfortunately, this isn't a companion piece to Pyretic and now I've just been hit with an idea how to write it, too. Damn.)+ "Untitled" (X-Men movieverse, Piotr pov)
Still, Piotr isn’t worried about the Wolverine, he’s worried about Logan, and in his mind, the two are not mutually inclusive. Wolverine steals motorcycles and hits on all the women and doesn’t ever get hurt, not really. No matter what the soldiers do to him, he’ll survive.
Logan, though—ah, Logan, who sits in the shadows of the mansion and smokes almost every night he’s in residence. The smoke curls around his face and all his features are hidden in the darkness, all but his eyes which reflect the light like black metal. Piotr wants to paint him when he watches Logan lounge, jeans, flannel shirt, cigar. Logan stretches out his legs, crosses his arms over his chest, and bites down on the cigar. Sometimes Logan twists it between his fingers and tells stories. He’s traveled a lot and seen just about everything. On good nights, he doesn’t mind sharing the few things he remembers.
I started this for
kphoebe because she encouraged my love of metalangst so much. (Mostly Piotr-->Wolverine in Ultimate X-Men, but movieverse can work, too.) And she wrote me a series of X-Men/Harry Potter crossovers which are the best things in the world. SHE WROTE BILL/GAMBIT. And then later she wrote BILL/GAMBIT/OZ because she loves me. I'm off track here. I will finish this one, I just need to do it.+ "she likes the violence in her sex" (X-Men movieverse, Rogue pov)
It just wasn’t fair, how careful they had to be, the condom and so many clothes—gloves, slit-panties and tights, skirt, shirt—nothing uncovered but their faces, eyes, lips, and maybe he was thinking about his wife or how much trouble this was, not worth it, but she’d never know, she wasn’t Jean, but wait. Just one little touch and she would.
This is a Rogue/Gambit story which may never be finished, because I can't get the right words. I really liked it, though, when I had the idea and now on the reread, so maybe I will.
+ "Queertet Revisited" (Mighty Ducks, multiple povs)
“I mean I’m so jealous I can’t think straight.” The words spilled out too fast to edit. “My grades are slipping because when I look at anything all I see is them, together, that damn hockey player pushing me out of my whole world!” She met Jez’s gaze and amended herself. “When I look at almost anything, I mean. Why is this so hard? Best friends aren’t supposed to get jealous of a boyfriend.”
I can't really say much about this, because it will give away too much of the plot. This doesn't, this is pretty obvious already in what
thestalkycop and I have posted. I wanted to post a paragraph a little farther down, but I can't, because it does give too much away. Heh. This will absolutely be done, we've got quite a bit more written already.+ "Untitled" (BtVS/Harry Potter/X-Men, Oz pov)
(He remembers the smell of magic, the taste on his tongue. Willow was sugar, candy floss, and a honey glaze, too sweet but he always wanted more. He thinks this man, this Bill, wouldn't taste sweet at all.)
Magic with a wand, that's a little different, but one spell's just like another, at the base, after all those layers strip away. It's familiar, makes him a little homesick even, but he doesn't have a home anymore, just a big, rocky crater and too many memories.
This is my Oz/Bill/Gambit story. It will definitely be finished. Maybe this weekend, as I'm suddenly driven with the need to write more of it.
I have a hard time titling stories until I have them almost done.
I thought about going to the movies after work today (we have Glory Road and Underworld: Evolution right now, and a couple others I'd like to see) but I couldn't be bothered. Mostly because the ones I really want to see (Transamerica and Brokeback Mountain) we will never get any closer than St. Louis (and I'm not driving to St. Louis again for awhile, not after the last time) and I couldn't fathom going out in public after the week I've had. I am over-stimulated, over-socialized, and I needed time alone, which I got.
I watched High School Musical on Disney, which was actually mostly cute, and was thrilled to learn Amanda Mischalka (I think I just butchered her name) is in an upcoming made-for-tv Disney movie, because it means there will be more pictures of her floating around, and as she's the closest approximation of "Queertet Revisited" aged Anna, this is a good thing.
Bed now.
