Urgh.... I mean, new fic snippet! :D
So this one's kicking my ass too. Probably because I just had to pick up a steampunk plot for no other reason than it was so...shiny. And distracting. And now I'm finding it a little overwhelming. This is the problem with my writing - I try to focus on characters/situations, and sometimes plots take a backseat to that.
...Like now. I mean, I've got an idea, but it's ridiculous. Geh.
Oh, look! A distraction!
Raise your hand if you like Savage Garden!
*crickets*
...Yeah, that's what I'm finding. -.-' But my twin was recently back in the States, and he picked up their greatest hits CD. AND I LOVE THEM OH GEEZ. What do you mean you can tell I'm a borderline sound-obsessed music major shut up and stop laughing Peter!
Anyway, new fic! And here's a snippet, because if I post it I have to finish it:
“Careful! That's worth far more than your life, cadet!” Ianto snaps, sliding down the outer edge of the clockwork driver. He lands on the metal planking of the engineering deck with a clatter, Myfanwy swooping behind him in her nightingale form, and waves the hovering sailors off impatiently as he ducks under the creaking clockwork. The cadet in question backs away with wide eyes, giving way as Ianto takes his place in guiding the next gear into its housing. One of the teeth snags the sleeve of his shirt, tearing it nearly off, but he just pushes the cuff up and begins tightening the mechanism.
“Taking jobs from the cadets again, Mr. Jones?” an amused voice asks from beyond the screen of turning cogs.
Ianto tightens a final screw before ducking back out, coming face to face with a lovely, dark-skinned woman in a red corset and blouse, her skirt hitched up in a practical manner with straps that lift it above her tall boots. He smiles at her and dips his head in greeting as Myfanwy comes to land on his shoulder again.
“Not at all, Dr. Jones,” he returns, taking the hand she offers and gallantly kissing the back of it. “I'm simply ensuring that everything is prepared for the new engineer. Preserving the pride of the Fleet and all that.”
Martha laughs at him and pulls her hand away, swatting him gently in the side of the head as she does. “I believe we termed that ‘over-indulging your obsessive need to control things,’ Ianto. Mechanists aren’t supposed to be doing grunt work.”
Ianto tries very hard not to roll his eyes. It’s mostly a success. “Martha, stop mothering. If you want Torchwood to launch on time, you’ll let me obsess. A ship of this scale requires it for a smooth maiden flight.”
And no, Myfanwy's not a pteranadon in this one - I don't think she'd fit on Ianto's shoulder as she is...
...Like now. I mean, I've got an idea, but it's ridiculous. Geh.
Oh, look! A distraction!
Raise your hand if you like Savage Garden!
*crickets*
...Yeah, that's what I'm finding. -.-' But my twin was recently back in the States, and he picked up their greatest hits CD. AND I LOVE THEM OH GEEZ. What do you mean you can tell I'm a borderline sound-obsessed music major shut up and stop laughing Peter!
Anyway, new fic! And here's a snippet, because if I post it I have to finish it:
“Careful! That's worth far more than your life, cadet!” Ianto snaps, sliding down the outer edge of the clockwork driver. He lands on the metal planking of the engineering deck with a clatter, Myfanwy swooping behind him in her nightingale form, and waves the hovering sailors off impatiently as he ducks under the creaking clockwork. The cadet in question backs away with wide eyes, giving way as Ianto takes his place in guiding the next gear into its housing. One of the teeth snags the sleeve of his shirt, tearing it nearly off, but he just pushes the cuff up and begins tightening the mechanism.
“Taking jobs from the cadets again, Mr. Jones?” an amused voice asks from beyond the screen of turning cogs.
Ianto tightens a final screw before ducking back out, coming face to face with a lovely, dark-skinned woman in a red corset and blouse, her skirt hitched up in a practical manner with straps that lift it above her tall boots. He smiles at her and dips his head in greeting as Myfanwy comes to land on his shoulder again.
“Not at all, Dr. Jones,” he returns, taking the hand she offers and gallantly kissing the back of it. “I'm simply ensuring that everything is prepared for the new engineer. Preserving the pride of the Fleet and all that.”
Martha laughs at him and pulls her hand away, swatting him gently in the side of the head as she does. “I believe we termed that ‘over-indulging your obsessive need to control things,’ Ianto. Mechanists aren’t supposed to be doing grunt work.”
Ianto tries very hard not to roll his eyes. It’s mostly a success. “Martha, stop mothering. If you want Torchwood to launch on time, you’ll let me obsess. A ship of this scale requires it for a smooth maiden flight.”
And no, Myfanwy's not a pteranadon in this one - I don't think she'd fit on Ianto's shoulder as she is...