(no subject)
Stolen from tanarian who stole it from szm: Post the first lines of fic you have yet to finish.
This is so you guys can nag me about what fics you really want.
Physics 101 (original):
I loathe physics. Immensely. Immeasurably. Unfortunately, it’s a two semester requirement for all biology majors, myself included. Good thing it’s the intro physics class and not the really difficult stuff. This time it’s not the professor. Hartful, contrary to his name, was pure evil. He was a bitter old man, but now he’s gone, and there’s this new, young, hotshot physics professor who is more engaging than Hartful, but I still loathe physics. I just don’t dread going to class anymore.
Hartful left halfway through the semester for reasons that administrators won’t share with students, and I finally started to learn in class. The first thing I learned was that Justin Borgstrom was a kiss-ass. In class. Outside of class, he was a jackass, loudly slandering this new professor, yet Justin is always in the professor’s office.
I’d been to a party at Brent’s house when Justin was there. He has this strange radar to detect the easiest girl in the room, and he was stuck to her for the rest of the night, pawing at her. I hate PDAs, no matter where they originate from. He arrogantly spoke to his guy-friends about how he was “going to get some” and didn’t speak to the girl, even though he was draped over her. When he left with her, he gave all of his guy-friends high-fives. I left after that and never kept a high opinion of him.
Justin was also the one who made the new professor’s nickname popular. I was the one who thought it up, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first to call him this. The man’s name is Peter Parker, for God’s sake: he needs to be called Spider-Man.
Another’s Kiss (Cedric/Wood backstory to SS&CB as told by Roger Davies):
I stand at the edge of the pitch watching a strange sort of scrimmage. Two team captains. A keeper and a seeker. They kept taking turns. Sometimes Wood would throw golf balls, and sometimes Diggory would throw quaffles.
“Checking out the moves or the movers?” Flint is right behind me. “I’m going to hazard a guess and say Wood.”
I slowly turn to Flint and give him my most unimpressed expression. “Flint, with you nothing is a guess.” I turn back to the practice.
Flint snorts in response.
Above us two oblivious captains met each other in midair amidst laughter. They tend to laugh a lot when they’re together. I’m assuming they don’t see Flint or me because the two share a quick kiss before they resume playing.
“So, playboy, what is your plan of action?” There is amusement and mockery in his voice.
I plan to go back to my room and write down every maneuver I just witnessed all the while wanking like a man possessed.
Listen to Your Heart (Weiss Kreuz):
She smiled tiredly at him before looking down to the table. Her smile dissolved, and she sighed softly.
“You’re hurting,” he informed her. There were never any longwinded speeches: he always went right for the point. She respected that about him.
She nodded obediently. “Love hurts.”
He placed two fingers under her chin lifting it up so she could once again look him in the eye. “It’s not supposed to.”
She closed her eyes tightly. It was the only way that she could not look at him. “Clearly, brother, you’ve never been in love.”
Life is a Four Letter Word (SGA Lorne/McKay):
Each color has a personality, so it stands to reason that every personality has a color. Colonel Sheppard had a deep blue personality: Ultramarine 660. Dr. Weir had a rich red personality: Alizarin Crimson Hue 003. Dr. McKay had a brown personality with a hint of red: Burnt Siena 074. Dr. Parrish was a pale blue-green: Cobalt Green 692. Some complex people even had multiple colors to them. This was a difficult concept to explain to someone who had not been painting for the greater part of his life. And yes, while the aforementioned did tend to wear those colors often, it seemed more like a reflection of their personality than a reflection of their wardrobe.
Major Lorne chose his team based on the balance of their personalities: his three team members formed a tertiary triad: yellow-orange, red-violet, and blue-green. Reed was Azo Gold 152, Coughlin was Quinacridone Violet 330, and Watson was Primary Cyan 678 mixed with equal parts Hooker’s Green 545 and a dab of Chinese White 150. So far it had yet to lead him to trouble: his team worked off of each other in ways that Dr. Weir wished her other teams would, including and especially SGA-1.
Untitled Supernatural Fic:
It was routine - it always was in cases where the worst possible, most horrible thing imaginable happened. The worst possible, most horrible thing imaginable didn’t happen on this case, but it was routine. Disappearing people. It happens all the time. In fact, Dean had wanted to overlook it, but Sam had insisted - and Sam always won. Of course most of Dean’s objection stemmed from the dual ideas of coastal Maine and tourist season. Through the entirety of the drive Dean kept grumbling about “Why is it tourist season if you can’t shoot them?” Which Sam had ignored.
After the eleventh “No Vacancy” sign they passed Sam started to become a bit edgy. Dean had, thankfully, passed out in the passenger seat and therefore couldn’t complain about that as well - or say “I told you so.” Of which Sam was grateful for.
Medieval Wincesty Fic
Sam’s feet had started to blister a league behind them, but he was loathe to mention this to Dean. Dean had taken a near-fatal blow on their last hunt, so he was riding his horse. Sometimes he was aware of his surroundings, but usually he stared off into the middle distance. Sam feared that the infection had spread to Dean’s brain, and, while he usually opted not to use that particular organ, it would be detrimental to stay the night anywhere other than a tavern. So Sam trudged on, trying to ignore the blisters on his feet as he led the mare who drew their wagon and dutifully kept Dean from falling off her back.
She was a beautiful black mare who had once belonged to their father. Dean called her Imp because she was finicky to the point of outright stubbornness. She had also been through so much with the brothers that Sam was beginning to think that she was indestructible. She was very fond of Dean. Sometimes Sam would say in jest that if Imp were human she would be courting Dean. Dean would always give Sam his best unimpressed look in retaliation.
Imp stepped carefully to avoid jostling Dean who was still staring off into the middle distance. Half a league back, Dean had almost slipped from her saddle and Imp had to maneuver herself to keep him on her back. Sam had chortled to himself as Imp looked back to Dean in question of his sanity.
Had they not traveled this road before, Sam would have stopped them and set up camp. There was a township not far. He just needed the motivation, and Dean provided that in the form of a soft gasping moan.
White Darkness Chapter 4:
"Ne, Omi, can you water the plants in back before you head out to lunch?” Ken calls out.
Omi nods as he fends off multiple girls who wish to join him for lunch. He declines in the same way he’s done for years.
Aya is nowhere to be seen, which either means nothing or everything, and there is a new guy. That didn’t take them long.
“Ne, is that the one?” The Doc points at Ken. We’re sitting inside a café across the street from the Kitty in the House. It’s strange to look into my old life from an outside perspective.
What I Might Need Chapter 8:
Ginny knocks on the door to our room before the sun has broken over the horizon. She enters without waiting for a response. I have been watching Percy sleep and may have been keeping his mind there so he could rest and for more selfish reasons.
“It’s about the seal.”
Fuck. Done!
This is so you guys can nag me about what fics you really want.
Physics 101 (original):
I loathe physics. Immensely. Immeasurably. Unfortunately, it’s a two semester requirement for all biology majors, myself included. Good thing it’s the intro physics class and not the really difficult stuff. This time it’s not the professor. Hartful, contrary to his name, was pure evil. He was a bitter old man, but now he’s gone, and there’s this new, young, hotshot physics professor who is more engaging than Hartful, but I still loathe physics. I just don’t dread going to class anymore.
Hartful left halfway through the semester for reasons that administrators won’t share with students, and I finally started to learn in class. The first thing I learned was that Justin Borgstrom was a kiss-ass. In class. Outside of class, he was a jackass, loudly slandering this new professor, yet Justin is always in the professor’s office.
I’d been to a party at Brent’s house when Justin was there. He has this strange radar to detect the easiest girl in the room, and he was stuck to her for the rest of the night, pawing at her. I hate PDAs, no matter where they originate from. He arrogantly spoke to his guy-friends about how he was “going to get some” and didn’t speak to the girl, even though he was draped over her. When he left with her, he gave all of his guy-friends high-fives. I left after that and never kept a high opinion of him.
Justin was also the one who made the new professor’s nickname popular. I was the one who thought it up, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first to call him this. The man’s name is Peter Parker, for God’s sake: he needs to be called Spider-Man.
Another’s Kiss (Cedric/Wood backstory to SS&CB as told by Roger Davies):
I stand at the edge of the pitch watching a strange sort of scrimmage. Two team captains. A keeper and a seeker. They kept taking turns. Sometimes Wood would throw golf balls, and sometimes Diggory would throw quaffles.
“Checking out the moves or the movers?” Flint is right behind me. “I’m going to hazard a guess and say Wood.”
I slowly turn to Flint and give him my most unimpressed expression. “Flint, with you nothing is a guess.” I turn back to the practice.
Flint snorts in response.
Above us two oblivious captains met each other in midair amidst laughter. They tend to laugh a lot when they’re together. I’m assuming they don’t see Flint or me because the two share a quick kiss before they resume playing.
“So, playboy, what is your plan of action?” There is amusement and mockery in his voice.
I plan to go back to my room and write down every maneuver I just witnessed all the while wanking like a man possessed.
Listen to Your Heart (Weiss Kreuz):
She smiled tiredly at him before looking down to the table. Her smile dissolved, and she sighed softly.
“You’re hurting,” he informed her. There were never any longwinded speeches: he always went right for the point. She respected that about him.
She nodded obediently. “Love hurts.”
He placed two fingers under her chin lifting it up so she could once again look him in the eye. “It’s not supposed to.”
She closed her eyes tightly. It was the only way that she could not look at him. “Clearly, brother, you’ve never been in love.”
Life is a Four Letter Word (SGA Lorne/McKay):
Each color has a personality, so it stands to reason that every personality has a color. Colonel Sheppard had a deep blue personality: Ultramarine 660. Dr. Weir had a rich red personality: Alizarin Crimson Hue 003. Dr. McKay had a brown personality with a hint of red: Burnt Siena 074. Dr. Parrish was a pale blue-green: Cobalt Green 692. Some complex people even had multiple colors to them. This was a difficult concept to explain to someone who had not been painting for the greater part of his life. And yes, while the aforementioned did tend to wear those colors often, it seemed more like a reflection of their personality than a reflection of their wardrobe.
Major Lorne chose his team based on the balance of their personalities: his three team members formed a tertiary triad: yellow-orange, red-violet, and blue-green. Reed was Azo Gold 152, Coughlin was Quinacridone Violet 330, and Watson was Primary Cyan 678 mixed with equal parts Hooker’s Green 545 and a dab of Chinese White 150. So far it had yet to lead him to trouble: his team worked off of each other in ways that Dr. Weir wished her other teams would, including and especially SGA-1.
Untitled Supernatural Fic:
It was routine - it always was in cases where the worst possible, most horrible thing imaginable happened. The worst possible, most horrible thing imaginable didn’t happen on this case, but it was routine. Disappearing people. It happens all the time. In fact, Dean had wanted to overlook it, but Sam had insisted - and Sam always won. Of course most of Dean’s objection stemmed from the dual ideas of coastal Maine and tourist season. Through the entirety of the drive Dean kept grumbling about “Why is it tourist season if you can’t shoot them?” Which Sam had ignored.
After the eleventh “No Vacancy” sign they passed Sam started to become a bit edgy. Dean had, thankfully, passed out in the passenger seat and therefore couldn’t complain about that as well - or say “I told you so.” Of which Sam was grateful for.
Medieval Wincesty Fic
Sam’s feet had started to blister a league behind them, but he was loathe to mention this to Dean. Dean had taken a near-fatal blow on their last hunt, so he was riding his horse. Sometimes he was aware of his surroundings, but usually he stared off into the middle distance. Sam feared that the infection had spread to Dean’s brain, and, while he usually opted not to use that particular organ, it would be detrimental to stay the night anywhere other than a tavern. So Sam trudged on, trying to ignore the blisters on his feet as he led the mare who drew their wagon and dutifully kept Dean from falling off her back.
She was a beautiful black mare who had once belonged to their father. Dean called her Imp because she was finicky to the point of outright stubbornness. She had also been through so much with the brothers that Sam was beginning to think that she was indestructible. She was very fond of Dean. Sometimes Sam would say in jest that if Imp were human she would be courting Dean. Dean would always give Sam his best unimpressed look in retaliation.
Imp stepped carefully to avoid jostling Dean who was still staring off into the middle distance. Half a league back, Dean had almost slipped from her saddle and Imp had to maneuver herself to keep him on her back. Sam had chortled to himself as Imp looked back to Dean in question of his sanity.
Had they not traveled this road before, Sam would have stopped them and set up camp. There was a township not far. He just needed the motivation, and Dean provided that in the form of a soft gasping moan.
White Darkness Chapter 4:
"Ne, Omi, can you water the plants in back before you head out to lunch?” Ken calls out.
Omi nods as he fends off multiple girls who wish to join him for lunch. He declines in the same way he’s done for years.
Aya is nowhere to be seen, which either means nothing or everything, and there is a new guy. That didn’t take them long.
“Ne, is that the one?” The Doc points at Ken. We’re sitting inside a café across the street from the Kitty in the House. It’s strange to look into my old life from an outside perspective.
What I Might Need Chapter 8:
Ginny knocks on the door to our room before the sun has broken over the horizon. She enters without waiting for a response. I have been watching Percy sleep and may have been keeping his mind there so he could rest and for more selfish reasons.
“It’s about the seal.”
Fuck. Done!