Meme sheep! (WIP)
Sunday, March 8th, 2009 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoPost something from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations.
If I tried to do something from ever WIP I have, we'd be here all day. Instead, have assorted selection of tasty WIP bits.
1. Young Avengers, Tentative title: Gay Pride
Teddy studied the newspaper photo. "As a superhero, I'm really not use to being the most conservatively dressed in a picture."
2. Young Avengers, No title
Billy knew there was a problem as soon as he entered his grandfather's office and saw his mother. She was still in the informal clothes she wore around her rooms, perched on the very edge of one of the office chairs that were in front of his grandfather's desk. When Billy came in she turned her head towards him, but didn't smile.
Uh-oh.
Wanda rarely left what he and Tommy privately referred to as "The Jewelry Box." It was a suite of rooms done in shades of pink and red with patterned rugs, thick pillows, and rich wall hangings that was situated on one of the top most spires of the palace. The only time Wanda came down was for occasional state functions, holiday family dinners, and family meetings.
None of Wanda's siblings went up there. Heck, even their grandfather didn't go up there. Only Billy and Tommy were allowed up. And the only time they ever went up there was when Wanda wanted to have tea and awkward conversation that resulted in mysteriously "fixed" problems.
Sure their mother was the only non-mutant of Eric Magnus's children. And Billy would start liking girls any day now.
3. Original, Drugstore Romance
"Here's six dollars and..." Derek felt his mind go absolutely blank. The customer looked at him impatiently. "... some change. Have a good morning."
"Hmph." The old lady made a show out of counting her money in front of him. Since it came up correct, she found something else to complain about. "It's ten after four. You should wish me a good afternoon not a good morning."
"You're right, ma'am. Thank you for reminding me." I hope that $80 worth of crap you bought gives you a hernia, you wrinkly old hag. Derek kept smiling, knowing that if he didn't rise the bait the old woman would get tired of harping and leave. Fifteen incredibly long minutes later, she finally walked out.
4. Original, SMP_Halloween story prequel
Blaine wondered if the universe wasn't playing a practical joke on him. It certainly wouldn't surprise him. His luck had gone from bad to apocalyptic in the span of a few short days. Hell, it didn't even have to be the universe, though Blaine couldn't imagine anyone as straight laced Serg playing a joke on anyone.
That still didn't explain the house in front of him. It was a brick row house, four stories high and one of a couple dozen brick row houses that lined the block. The street itself wasn't exactly tree lined, but it did have its fair share of green. Everything about the street screamed "upper middle class family housing." Even as Blaine stood there, a couple of kids with backpacks walked past him to pound up stair of the neighboring house.
The only thing that separated this house from other was that it was more non-descript than the others, if that was possible. A few of the brick houses had been painted white to stand out, and another half dozen were actual brownstones. This one was still brick with a small amount of generic bushes in the postage stamp sized "lawn" in front of it. The railing and trim were wrought iron. White curtains blocked all the windows. It looked perfectly ordinary without even trying.
He checked the address on the yellow post-it note in his hand. It read "5648 Ashwood Ln" in neat, precise script. Underneath it was the name "Joseph Karstein". Blaine looked up at the row house. Brass numbers proudly proclaimed that this was indeed 5648 and the street sign he'd passed had already told him this was Ashwood Lane.
Vampires did not live in modest, normal looking row houses. They just... didn't. They especially didn't live in row houses in the middle of only reasonably nice neighborhoods. Vampires were flashy creatures when they could afford to be, and desperate creatures when they couldn't.
This just did not make sense.
5. Original, Superhero story
"Keres! There's a civilian down there." She didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone. Danger. Watch out. Be careful. The one with tattered wings snarled in frustration and broke whatever spell she was casting.
"I'm on it," answered another voice. Someone landed beside her and she jerked away. His skin was green in color and his eyes were brown. His black hair was past his shoulders, wind blown and slightly knotted. The outfit he wore was skin-tight and in lurid shades of black, blue and orange. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here to help."
There wasn't any violence in his tone, just concern. She turned her back to him, focusing instead on the shadow mage that was doing battle with the winged one. That was her first mistake. Next thing she knew there was an arm around her waist.
"I have you," a voice said in her ear. She didn't like being touched. Her nails dug furrows into his arm. Then they were rising in the air. There were many things she could deal with, but flying without the benefit of wings was not one of them. If she still had voice, she would have yelled. "Easy on the arm. That hurts."
She was not afraid of heights. She couldn't be what she was and be afraid of heights. But watching the ground drop away from her without the safety of wings made her close her eyes and clutch desperately at the one holding her.
6. Original, Harem story
He woke with no memory.
A stray dog was digging through the garbage at the end of the alley, so thin he could count its ribs. When he moved it startled, growling briefly before slinking away. He was in an alley. How had he gotten into the alley? He didn't remember. Where there should have been images, sounds, smells, something there was only darkness. Emptiness. Not even a name.
The clothes he wore were in pale neutral colors and of middling quality. Pants, a loose outer robe, a pair of plain leather sandals, and a headdress to keep the sun at bay. He didn't recognize any of it. There was nothing to identify him. Nothing to trigger a memory.
7. Original, Through the Looking Glass
Dante's life was so pathetic, that it took him a full four days to realize it wasn't his.
His first clue was a phone call at 7:35am on a Saturday. He was still in bed, because it was fucking Saturday and if it was a telemarketer calling him he was going to just hang up on them. Dante managed to fumble the cordless out of it's cradle and hit the talk button. "Hello?"
"Dante where are you?" Dante blinked a few times while his tired mind placed the voice on the line.
"Marty? What do you mean where am I? I'm in bed."
"You were supposed to be here at seven. You're scheduled to open today and you've got exactly 25 minutes before Carl shows up and chews you out."
"Marty, I never open on Saturdays." Carl, the prick, didn't trust him enough to get things right unless the guy was right there breathing down his neck. Dante rolled over to look at the white board hanging on the wall beside his bed. "It says right here... oh hell, I am supposed to open this Saturday."
"Duh. Just like you've been doing for the last three months. I swear, if you didn't cover for me so often I'd let Carl find out what a slacker you really are. Can you make it before eight?"
"If I hurry," Dante replied. "Thanks for the call."
"No problem."
8. Original, Tentacle Monster Fic
Nautil wasn't sure why he was at the breeding grounds this year. It had been over four decades since the his last attempt at finding a mate, back when he was an awkward teenage monster trying out his tentacles for the fourth time. The whole thing hadn't been bad, but it hadn't been good. After the fourth year he'd just kind of given up.
Which didn't explain why he was here now, as an adult who still had a lot of proving to do in his millennium old elders eyes, haunting the very edges of the grounds. He didn't want to go into the grounds proper, which was ridiculous. There was no point of him being here if he wasn't going to swim between the displaying females. How else was he going to find someone to twine tentacles with?
Not that Nautil wanted to twine tentacles with any of the females showing off their mantles. That had been the problem the first time as well. Plenty of females touching him, their colors shifting to shades of gold, their scent/taste of interest being released. He'd had plenty of offers. None of them felt right.
It wasn't like he didn't like females. He did. They were actually pretty nice when they weren't protective of their eggs or trying to bite your penis off. He just didn't feel the urge to mate with them.
9. Original, Ransom Sequel
"You, dragon, are drunk." Pace looked at the now empty barrel of hard cider. He'd wondered why Val had brought eight barrels of the stuff from her keep. Now he knew. Ransom was a lush.
:Not drunk.: Ransom lay his head in Pace's lap. :Just very relaxed. It's good.:
"Given how much you've consumed, I would hope so," Pace replied. He began to slowly stroke Ransom's scales. They felt vaguely warm against when compared to the autumn chill in the air and gave slightly under his touch. Normally he would not dare to touch Ransom this way, but given how drunk the dragon was he felt it was safe. "You will be in a foul temper tomorrow when your head feels like a herd of horses is running through it. I'll be surprised if you even remember half the night."
:I'm not drunk. I'll be fine.:
"If you say so beast." As Pace continued to pet Ransom, the dragon's inner lid slid shut. The sound the dragon made wasn't quite a purr, but it was close. The sound reverberated in Pace's bones. Ransom's eyes closed completely, trusting the knight to not hurt him.
It left a warm feeling in Pace's stomach that had nothing to do with the cider he'd drunk earlier.
10. Original, Race the Wind, spoiler alert!
"Even foals find their feet faster than this," Mial said. Aiepa would have replied, but he was too busy concentrating on walking. One foot, then another, then another: it was much harder to keep track of four as opposed to two. He was so busy looking at his feet that he started at the feel of a hand on his neck. "Don't think. You're body knows even if your mind does not."
Aiepa's eyes refused to focus on Mial. That didn't stop him from turning his head to get a better look at her. She might have smiled, but he was unsure. "Think your words. Clear and concise. I will hear them."
:How do you know I'll be able to walk if I don't think about it?:
"I was once like you. Mortal. Many generations ago" She stroked his neck. "Besides, do you really think Death will let you walk out with his cousin? You will have to run."
Now to see if I can actually get something to cooperate.
If I tried to do something from ever WIP I have, we'd be here all day. Instead, have assorted selection of tasty WIP bits.
1. Young Avengers, Tentative title: Gay Pride
Teddy studied the newspaper photo. "As a superhero, I'm really not use to being the most conservatively dressed in a picture."
2. Young Avengers, No title
Billy knew there was a problem as soon as he entered his grandfather's office and saw his mother. She was still in the informal clothes she wore around her rooms, perched on the very edge of one of the office chairs that were in front of his grandfather's desk. When Billy came in she turned her head towards him, but didn't smile.
Uh-oh.
Wanda rarely left what he and Tommy privately referred to as "The Jewelry Box." It was a suite of rooms done in shades of pink and red with patterned rugs, thick pillows, and rich wall hangings that was situated on one of the top most spires of the palace. The only time Wanda came down was for occasional state functions, holiday family dinners, and family meetings.
None of Wanda's siblings went up there. Heck, even their grandfather didn't go up there. Only Billy and Tommy were allowed up. And the only time they ever went up there was when Wanda wanted to have tea and awkward conversation that resulted in mysteriously "fixed" problems.
Sure their mother was the only non-mutant of Eric Magnus's children. And Billy would start liking girls any day now.
3. Original, Drugstore Romance
"Here's six dollars and..." Derek felt his mind go absolutely blank. The customer looked at him impatiently. "... some change. Have a good morning."
"Hmph." The old lady made a show out of counting her money in front of him. Since it came up correct, she found something else to complain about. "It's ten after four. You should wish me a good afternoon not a good morning."
"You're right, ma'am. Thank you for reminding me." I hope that $80 worth of crap you bought gives you a hernia, you wrinkly old hag. Derek kept smiling, knowing that if he didn't rise the bait the old woman would get tired of harping and leave. Fifteen incredibly long minutes later, she finally walked out.
4. Original, SMP_Halloween story prequel
Blaine wondered if the universe wasn't playing a practical joke on him. It certainly wouldn't surprise him. His luck had gone from bad to apocalyptic in the span of a few short days. Hell, it didn't even have to be the universe, though Blaine couldn't imagine anyone as straight laced Serg playing a joke on anyone.
That still didn't explain the house in front of him. It was a brick row house, four stories high and one of a couple dozen brick row houses that lined the block. The street itself wasn't exactly tree lined, but it did have its fair share of green. Everything about the street screamed "upper middle class family housing." Even as Blaine stood there, a couple of kids with backpacks walked past him to pound up stair of the neighboring house.
The only thing that separated this house from other was that it was more non-descript than the others, if that was possible. A few of the brick houses had been painted white to stand out, and another half dozen were actual brownstones. This one was still brick with a small amount of generic bushes in the postage stamp sized "lawn" in front of it. The railing and trim were wrought iron. White curtains blocked all the windows. It looked perfectly ordinary without even trying.
He checked the address on the yellow post-it note in his hand. It read "5648 Ashwood Ln" in neat, precise script. Underneath it was the name "Joseph Karstein". Blaine looked up at the row house. Brass numbers proudly proclaimed that this was indeed 5648 and the street sign he'd passed had already told him this was Ashwood Lane.
Vampires did not live in modest, normal looking row houses. They just... didn't. They especially didn't live in row houses in the middle of only reasonably nice neighborhoods. Vampires were flashy creatures when they could afford to be, and desperate creatures when they couldn't.
This just did not make sense.
5. Original, Superhero story
"Keres! There's a civilian down there." She didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone. Danger. Watch out. Be careful. The one with tattered wings snarled in frustration and broke whatever spell she was casting.
"I'm on it," answered another voice. Someone landed beside her and she jerked away. His skin was green in color and his eyes were brown. His black hair was past his shoulders, wind blown and slightly knotted. The outfit he wore was skin-tight and in lurid shades of black, blue and orange. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here to help."
There wasn't any violence in his tone, just concern. She turned her back to him, focusing instead on the shadow mage that was doing battle with the winged one. That was her first mistake. Next thing she knew there was an arm around her waist.
"I have you," a voice said in her ear. She didn't like being touched. Her nails dug furrows into his arm. Then they were rising in the air. There were many things she could deal with, but flying without the benefit of wings was not one of them. If she still had voice, she would have yelled. "Easy on the arm. That hurts."
She was not afraid of heights. She couldn't be what she was and be afraid of heights. But watching the ground drop away from her without the safety of wings made her close her eyes and clutch desperately at the one holding her.
6. Original, Harem story
He woke with no memory.
A stray dog was digging through the garbage at the end of the alley, so thin he could count its ribs. When he moved it startled, growling briefly before slinking away. He was in an alley. How had he gotten into the alley? He didn't remember. Where there should have been images, sounds, smells, something there was only darkness. Emptiness. Not even a name.
The clothes he wore were in pale neutral colors and of middling quality. Pants, a loose outer robe, a pair of plain leather sandals, and a headdress to keep the sun at bay. He didn't recognize any of it. There was nothing to identify him. Nothing to trigger a memory.
7. Original, Through the Looking Glass
Dante's life was so pathetic, that it took him a full four days to realize it wasn't his.
His first clue was a phone call at 7:35am on a Saturday. He was still in bed, because it was fucking Saturday and if it was a telemarketer calling him he was going to just hang up on them. Dante managed to fumble the cordless out of it's cradle and hit the talk button. "Hello?"
"Dante where are you?" Dante blinked a few times while his tired mind placed the voice on the line.
"Marty? What do you mean where am I? I'm in bed."
"You were supposed to be here at seven. You're scheduled to open today and you've got exactly 25 minutes before Carl shows up and chews you out."
"Marty, I never open on Saturdays." Carl, the prick, didn't trust him enough to get things right unless the guy was right there breathing down his neck. Dante rolled over to look at the white board hanging on the wall beside his bed. "It says right here... oh hell, I am supposed to open this Saturday."
"Duh. Just like you've been doing for the last three months. I swear, if you didn't cover for me so often I'd let Carl find out what a slacker you really are. Can you make it before eight?"
"If I hurry," Dante replied. "Thanks for the call."
"No problem."
8. Original, Tentacle Monster Fic
Nautil wasn't sure why he was at the breeding grounds this year. It had been over four decades since the his last attempt at finding a mate, back when he was an awkward teenage monster trying out his tentacles for the fourth time. The whole thing hadn't been bad, but it hadn't been good. After the fourth year he'd just kind of given up.
Which didn't explain why he was here now, as an adult who still had a lot of proving to do in his millennium old elders eyes, haunting the very edges of the grounds. He didn't want to go into the grounds proper, which was ridiculous. There was no point of him being here if he wasn't going to swim between the displaying females. How else was he going to find someone to twine tentacles with?
Not that Nautil wanted to twine tentacles with any of the females showing off their mantles. That had been the problem the first time as well. Plenty of females touching him, their colors shifting to shades of gold, their scent/taste of interest being released. He'd had plenty of offers. None of them felt right.
It wasn't like he didn't like females. He did. They were actually pretty nice when they weren't protective of their eggs or trying to bite your penis off. He just didn't feel the urge to mate with them.
9. Original, Ransom Sequel
"You, dragon, are drunk." Pace looked at the now empty barrel of hard cider. He'd wondered why Val had brought eight barrels of the stuff from her keep. Now he knew. Ransom was a lush.
:Not drunk.: Ransom lay his head in Pace's lap. :Just very relaxed. It's good.:
"Given how much you've consumed, I would hope so," Pace replied. He began to slowly stroke Ransom's scales. They felt vaguely warm against when compared to the autumn chill in the air and gave slightly under his touch. Normally he would not dare to touch Ransom this way, but given how drunk the dragon was he felt it was safe. "You will be in a foul temper tomorrow when your head feels like a herd of horses is running through it. I'll be surprised if you even remember half the night."
:I'm not drunk. I'll be fine.:
"If you say so beast." As Pace continued to pet Ransom, the dragon's inner lid slid shut. The sound the dragon made wasn't quite a purr, but it was close. The sound reverberated in Pace's bones. Ransom's eyes closed completely, trusting the knight to not hurt him.
It left a warm feeling in Pace's stomach that had nothing to do with the cider he'd drunk earlier.
10. Original, Race the Wind, spoiler alert!
"Even foals find their feet faster than this," Mial said. Aiepa would have replied, but he was too busy concentrating on walking. One foot, then another, then another: it was much harder to keep track of four as opposed to two. He was so busy looking at his feet that he started at the feel of a hand on his neck. "Don't think. You're body knows even if your mind does not."
Aiepa's eyes refused to focus on Mial. That didn't stop him from turning his head to get a better look at her. She might have smiled, but he was unsure. "Think your words. Clear and concise. I will hear them."
:How do you know I'll be able to walk if I don't think about it?:
"I was once like you. Mortal. Many generations ago" She stroked his neck. "Besides, do you really think Death will let you walk out with his cousin? You will have to run."
Now to see if I can actually get something to cooperate.
(no subject)
Date: 3/9/09 01:42 am (UTC)