WIP meme

[jade_sabre]

When you see this, post an excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.

Since spellcoats was nice enough to tell you things about her WIPs, I suppose I will at least tell you fandom, unlike last time, when I just let you guess.

Also, these excerpts are longish. Oops.

(p.s. I have 24 files open right now. Some of them are also the same as last time. Oops.)

(p.p.s. I have spent at least half an hour on this, when I could have been...WRITING.)

(p.p.p.s. oh damn I forgot to include this one.)

(p.p.p.p.s. I am doing NaNo this year! I'm just not touching the forums. Except maybe to use the Fantasy Dare thread to jog my juices.)

fanfic that will probably never be finished, but has salvageable parts
completely indulgent DA Cousland twinfic

They were the most glorious months of her time at the Circle; not her favorites, if only because they passed in such a blur, but years later when she was too tired to sleep and the old homesickness settled on her pillow, she wrapped the memory of the warm, safe feeling of her twin’s presence around her like a blanket. He wasn’t allowed to attend classes, which gave him plenty of time to explore the tower. When she was free from the mages, he would show her his finds, windowsills and cupboards and corners within the smooth rounded walls that became her favorite haunts, long after she outgrew them. For six months they waited to see if he would show signs of the gift (not a gift but a curse, the templars said, and yet it was a part of her, and she had done nothing deserving of punishment), and it was with reluctance that First Enchanter Irving looked down at her and told her that her brother was not a mage, that he must return to his family.

once upon a time I was going to write Morrigan/Zevran smut

“I have,” he said, “a proposition for you. I think you will like it.”

“A proposition for me,” she repeated. “If it’s of a sexual nature, you can forget it. Immediately.”

“What other kind of proposition is there?” he said, and then turned the dagger to offer her the hilt. “It is quite simple. I give you the knife, I give you, oh, five minutes to stab me in the face, you do so, you get to have your wicked way with me, but if you don’t…” She knew he would be leering, and didn’t bother to take her eyes off the blade. “I get to have my wicked way with you.” He paused. “It will be quite wicked, I assure you.”

that Fable fic that will never be finished unless I just make myself do it

Elvira Grey had fucked bigger, stronger men than he, and she never quite let him forget it.

He couldn’t say the same about her; she was the sexiest, richest, most manipulative woman he’d ever met. Her accent was sleek and refined, rather like her body, both in contrast to the things she whispered in his ears as she raked her nails across his back. His other wife assumed he’d gotten the scars in battle, and sleeping with Elvira was something of a battle—one he usually lost as she rode him, smiling down in satisfaction as he thrashed beneath her with barely enough presence of mind to avoid begging. She tweaked and she nipped and she bit and she told him off when he yelped: “You’re a Hero in more ways than one,” she said. “Surely you’re tough enough to handle a little bit of play?”

that Kyouya/Haruhi dating fic I will also never finish

She stood in front of him, her hands grasping the handle of her clutch purse, looking up at him blankly, and Kyouya didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t leave until she went inside—it wasn’t just Tamaki in his head, scolding him for being unchivalrous—but he also…needed to leave. He had a lot of business to take care of at home: his father had judgments to pass, his mother and sister would want to ask questions about the little commoner he’d brought, and his brothers would probably want to pester him about his activities. Never mind all the budget work he had to do, planning for next week’s host club events, and—

“Good night,” Haruhi said, and then, without missing a beat, she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

Jade Empire fic that will never be finished, but I am fond of it nevertheless

He snorted, rustling the ribbons in her hair. “May the gods have mercy on you and your whims.”

“I think they will,” she said, relenting, turning her back on him as she stepped away. It was a more deliberate sort of taunt, this display of trust, and she could feel his disapproval filling the niches it had carved in her back from so many previous stares. She could feel, too, that confusion was starting to overcome the mixture, but she thought it might be a little too early to hope that something like acceptance was forming in his mind—acceptance of her role in his life, and his in hers, of the fact that she had made a place for him and he was welcome there. Patience. “Anyway, we have to go. I have to put on makeup and everything!”

doesn’t-even-have-a-plot Artemis Fowl, Holly is hiding in an injured Artemis’s room while Angeline Fowl blissfully speaks to the air around her

“And so I forgave him and we were married and there has not been a day that I have regretted it, because he makes me a better woman, and because I love him, and trying to resist a Fowl’s charms…” She smiled again, warmly, and said, “Well, it’s rather difficult.”

No, it’s not, Holly thought, miserably. Though the whole cross-species thing probably helped. And Artemis could hardly be described as charming, even to his fellow humans. Polite, perhaps, if you caught him on a good day. But charming? Artemis? Only if you were mentally damaged.

Of course, Holly had had her head kicked around a few times over the decades, but she slammed the brakes on that train of thought and tried to refocus her attention on the important things, such as not getting caught.

s1!Glee, Will/Sue fic I said I would write and then…didn’t

She was already dragging him off, so it wasn’t like he had much of a chance to make a decision, but his personal life was already in shambles and it felt like he’d somehow or other been entangled with every other woman he’d met—Terri, Emma, the director of Vocal Adrenaline, for God’s sake—hell, even Quinn and Rachel had caught his eye a few times, though the latter could be blamed on short skirts and the former on the fact that he still had lingering thoughts of a family—the point was, Sue Sylvester wasn’t so far off the list as to be off the radar. Of course, she was still at the very bottom of the list, but the list also included April Rhodes, so that didn’t necessarily mean much.

Oh God, he wasn’t really considering this, was he?

various NWN2 ficlets about Laura Farthing

She watched her dream unfold with something like boredom; she couldn’t exactly think about other, productive things, because part of her was having the dream and the rest of her was making sure the dream was the only thing she had. She watched herself, small and unassuming against the vastness of her surroundings. Gann, on the few occasions he had appeared in her mind, had laughed at this self-image. “You have it backwards,” he’d said. “You’re the center of things, Laura; you are the towering greatness to which everything else bows. And don’t try to pretend otherwise; your power outstrips all those around you, and no one could stop you, even if they tried.”

“That’s not what I want to be,” she’d told him, and he’d retorted that she ought to enjoy it while it lasted.

and

Laura looked levelly at her companions, who were suddenly very interested in the wyvern corpse at their feet, illuminated in flashes of acidic lightning.

"Storm of Vengeance," she said.

"Yes," Kaelyn said.

"A useful spell," Gann pointed out.

"Against a wyvern."

"Perhaps a bit much," Kaelyn said.

"And both of you cast it."

"She should have told me she was doing it! I wanted to do it first!"

Laura sighed, and continued on her way.

fic I will probably finish one day but it is taking a while
“Tanithar gets a pet,” an NWN2 fic prompted by loquaciousquark

And it wasn’t as if the men of the greater world were less interesting than those of West Harbor—quite the contrary. Just because she was ore beautiful than anyone she’d met didn’t mean the men were merely average—indeed, Neverwinter certainly had its offerings. And yet they all resembled the men of West Harbor in that their goals were limited to her smile or a kind word or perhaps her bed for the night—and no one seemed to realize how willingly she was to give any of those things. Even Casavir, for all his pensive stares, seemed reluctant to hold anything other than the briefest of conversations, and she could hardly offer her bed for weeks at a time based on that. Which was perhaps a relief; she was too busy for a love affair, and she wasn’t so alone that she craved one.

Still it would have been nice, to want to look for a smile or a kind word as much as others wanted hers.

Dragon Age, godbaby fic #1, to be written entirely to “love the way you lie”

I follow Mother around the kitchen with a bucket of water that splashes the floor as my knees bump it, and I almost slip many times, but Mother is walking back and forth and muttering at the flame in the fireplace. She is doing a spell, and she may need the water if it doesn’t work. I cannot do spells, but I can hold the bucket.

Mother stops mid-mutter and throws up her hands. “’Tis impossible to name a thing before it exists,” she says, and I do not understand but I see her face, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. I hope she is not angry with me. I try to distract her.

“Mother,” I say, “what’s a name?”

Dragon Age, matching character pieces about Laemira and Alistair

He feels a child around her, an awkward, bumbling boy, all hands and no head and plenty—too much—heart, and yet when he makes her laugh her troubles ease off her face and she smiles and she looks at him as if he is the first person to make her truly happy. Kissing her is sweet softness; even in her desperation or her need she is never hungry, merely…thorough, as if he may be memorized in the same way one memorizes a spell from a book, in case the book is somehow lost. It unsettles him; he pours the heat of—everything—love and battlelust and weariness and trust—into her mouth, and she absorbs it; when they make love for the first time, her fingers tremble as much as his, her breath puffing between her lips, her body shaking as he holds her close and buries his face in her skin. It is a monumental act and yet somehow it distances them; she longer talks to him, and he no longer jokes. She takes solace in his arms and hides her face from the world; he tightens his grip and wonders what the [unsomething] unbreakable Laemira fears.

and

There is a hole in Laemira’s heart.

It has a specific shape and size, formed when an ex-templar stood before her twirling a rose in his nervous fingers and called her a rare and wonderful thing. Laemira has been called many thing—cursed, abomination waiting to happen—and her gift even more—powerful, abnormal, doomed—but never has someone spoken such sweet words on her behalf, let alone to her face; she takes the rose and seals her heartache.

Disney mythos fic

The Revolution strikes their children, as it strikes every noble family in France, and they flee their fortress for the south, where there remain those loyal to the crown. They weather Napoleon and the return of the monarchy, consolidating their strength in an oceanside palace which the Crown deigns to allow them to keep and Napoleon grants in exchange for housing his troops. The father fights and dies in Egypt and the mother dies from grief, and their little boy is left playing with toy ships in his bath and wishing to escape the castle’s safety for the freedom of the open seas.

“princesses don’t kiss kitchen boys,” a Zutara prompt from rashaka

In his defense, they'd never acted like it. And their village had been really tiny; how was he to know it made up the entirety of the Southern Water Tribe? That might have given him a clue--his only clue, because nothing else about them, from their dress to their questionable taste in "delicacies," bespoke anything special about them. Her brother's weapons shined in a way that screamed "poor man's treasure," and her necklace was nothing more than a bit of glazed pottery. Their father was just as rough, and their mother--well, she was dead, so it was hard to guess what, if anything, they got from her; their grandmother was a runaway, a rebel, and her influence was perhaps the easiest to see. They lived on the wrong side of the rules; it never occurred to him that they had the power to make the rules.

this certainly is not M-rated fic for a G-rated TV show

Twenty minutes and three friendly French girls later, Cody realized he hadn’t thought about Geneva all night, and in the small part of his brain still functioning he thought he should be polite, so he leaned over to London (sandwiched between a muscley Swede and his attractive blonde) and yelled, “This is the best night I’ve had in a year!”

“Liar!” she yelled back, grinning.

“No, really!” he said, removing his hands from the waist they had wandered to in order to grab her free hand. There was a squelch as she slipped out from between her partners and an angry shriek as she shoved the random waist out of his way. “The best!”

“You remember why Bailey dumped you?” she yelled, and he frowned at her, and then she kissed him.

He pulled away. “But we didn’t really—”

“Maybe we should!”

original works
grammy and oscar and tony, a vignette collection, perhaps?

Grammy was making out with V on her red-and-yellow-and-blue Matchbox Cars bedspread when she got the text from Tony.

The bedspread was loud and obnoxious and very boyish, which is what she’d said when they first went into the room. “I like them,” V declared, shutting the door behind her and turning around with her hand still on the doorknob. “I refuse to be constrained by gender stereotypes.”

Grammy had stared at her. “You’re fifteen.”

V arched a perfect blonde eyebrow and said, “I kiss like I’m twenty,” and was demonstrating this fact before Grammy could think of a decent reply. She’d never actually kissed someone who was twenty, but she had to admit, V was damn good at it.

Henny’s second novel

“It’s out by the Peace Tree—”

“What’s the Peace Tree?”

“You’ve never been to the Peace Tree?”

A few minutes later we were standing out on the edge, right next to the mountains, where a bush tree, as those that lined the banks of Mahdim, grew incongruously among Dryander pines. “The Peace Tree,” he said. “The last living witness to the Peace of Dahamur. It’s been standing for over a hundred years.”

“I don’t see how a tree like that can be growing out here.”

“It’s fed by Mahdim,” he said, a tinge of awe in his voice.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “How can a river five hundred miles south of here be feeding this tree?”

He glanced at me, and then recovered himself and grinned. “Magic, princess.”

Nell’s novel

“Thank you, Aisen. Come, Eleanora,” Jason said, offering her his arm; she took it, and they were halfway through retracing their steps when he apparently looked at her face and said, “Is something the matter?”

“The book,” she said, not trusting the polite disinterest of his voice but unable to keep silent either. “It…floated.”

“Yes,” he said.

She waited, and finally said, “How?”

“Magic,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Izzy’s novel

“Look, Izzy, I just—you always look so lonely, by yourself in a corner somewhere, and I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

“And who are you? And who is your father?”

“A blacksmith. [A pause.] He repairs bicycles now.”

“And you think—”

“Izzy, it doesn’t matter now. Look around. Is there anyone who cares? Is there anyone who will snub you for this?”

[I will, she thought, for giving my kisses to a boy I don’t even like.] Instead she said, “That is not—”

“We’re all in the same boat now, Izzy, king, queen, servant, prince, baker, princess, blacksmith…” He trailed off, cupping his hand to her face, and said, “And this blacksmith’s son just wishes you would let him help you.”

I don’t need help, she thought, feeling his hand against her skin with a mixture of distaste and—curiosity? What could he possibly do to help her? The only help was to return to Caragale. In fact—and he kissed her again—it wasn’t helping at all; in fact—and he was still kissing her, and she wasn’t pushing him away—it was—just—

She was distracted she was—kissing him back?

from the goblin novel, NaNo 2009

“Helping your aunt?” Mulgral said, appearing by my shoulder.

I didn’t jump. “Yes,” I said, shifting so that I had a better grip on the intestines. Brolark’s guts were small and warm, oozing onto my fingers, already starting to attract flies.

He walked beside me silently until we reached the tree. I was about to toss the entrails to the wind when Mulgral said, “Wait. Cast them on the ground.”

I took care not to look suspicious as I obeyed. I knew Mulgral sometimes found answers for the chief’s questions in the entrails of birds or the casting of bones, but I’d never heard of him searching for omens in goblin guts. The entrails spilled on the ground; Brolark’s heart landed on a sharp rock and was split in two, while his intestines slithered into a coil at my feet. I licked the blood off my fingers while Mulgral leaned on his staff, humming. When it became apparent he was just going to stand there, I turned to see if my aunt had more to carry. His small talon-like hand caught my arm, sinking its fingers into my flesh.

“What do you see?” he asked, his voice in one of its mystical hisses.

I reconsidered the guts lying on the ground, fluids congealing in thick, sticky puddles, forming shapes, yes, but not of any kind I recognized. I kicked at the pile of intestines in front of my feet, but it simply tumbled over, bursting open in places and filling the air with the scent of recently-dead flesh.

“I see a bunch of guts,” I said, and Mulgral released me so that he could grab his staff with both hands while he laughed.

Comments

[loquaciousquark.livejournal.com]

TANITHAR I SEE YOU i had no idea that would spawn such a monster

..........i actually like that godbaby fic a little, huh. interesting.

AKHFALJKSHFLJAKSHFALIUUWFEHLC GRAMMY AND V WHO IS V AHHAH;KHFALK HFI CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE STILL WRITING THAT aHAHAHAH

oh, izzy. :C

hahaha, storm of vengeance. that made me laugh.

i forgot you wrote fable fic! is this the same Hero as the one with the husband?

[loquaciousquark.livejournal.com]

BOY OH BOY i make the best comments

[jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com]

it is a monster! complemented by lots of post-marriage drabbles. :-b

WHAT NO WAY. i might actually work on it then.

V IS SHORT FOR WHO KNOWS? SHE ALWAYS YELLS "V" BEFORE THE TEACHER CAN CALL HER NAME FOR ROLL, BECAUSE SHE'S FIRST ON THE LIST ALPHABETICALLY BY LAST NAME, AND ANY ATTEMPTS TO SNEAK A PEEK AT SAID LIST USUALLY ENDS WITH YOU IN A GARBAGE CAN AFTER SCHOOL.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh izzy is my experiment in having my romantice leads not date each other! woo.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I AM GLAD, because I was so pissed at them in-game.

yep it's the same fable fic.

whatevs

[xlovelylightx.livejournal.com]

iowjfOJfoiasjf'mglsnosng-That Zutara fic was good! I would have never thought of a drabble like that in a million years.

[jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com]

IT'S NOT EVEN DONE, SOB. but thankee kindly. :-)

[philia-fan.livejournal.com]

Wow, you have a lot of stuff to play with. Some great ideas. *thinks you should finish a few someday*

Love the Halloween look.

[jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com]

I know, I know, I know, right? *sobs forever*

hee, thanks! <3