Fic I've received, fic part written, and fic never to be.
The hlh_shortcuts fic I received is rather wonderful and has lots of lovely Joe and Amanda in it. Thank you, dear writer. It was lovely, lovely, lovely!
~*~*~
A Meme doing the rounds on my flist, reminded me of all fics the I started this year that never quite made it off the drawing board (although, I'm still holding out hope for a few) Here are a few snippets from fics that'll probably never see the light of day.
47 AD, The Isle of Skye
He was a young. Barely a lad of thirteen summers when he first came to stand in her hall. A mongrel in ill fitting armour and a belligerent tilt to his shoulders. The low thrum of an incipient quickening not yet flowered drifted around him. Not yet one of them, but that day wasn't be far off, if the glint in his eye were anything to go by.
“And who would you be, boy?” Rebecca asked.
“Sétanta,” he said, waving a rod of ash in front of him.
Rebecca sighed. “Bring it to me,” she said. He approached her seat warily, his eyes wavering to the hounds in front of the hearth. “Don't mind them,” she said. “They heel well.”
The ogham message etched into the ash rod was brief and to the point. “This one is going to be trouble. I thought of you.” Ah yes, Choncobhar, your humour always had a sharp sting at the end.
He eyed her warily, and Rebecca noted the slightly hunted expression on his face. A foundling's lot in Eire was better than in most, the laws on such things were very exacting, but it was still far from ideal.
“What should I call you?” he asked bluntly.
“The call me Scathach.” She eyed the boy. “But you may call me Mistress.” She rose from her seat and the hounds rose with her. “You can sleep at the hearth tonight. I expect you to rise an hour before dawn. Tomorrow we shall see to a more permanent arrangement, although what that might have to wait until after I test your mettle. Be ready.”
~*~*~
I fail to see how you could have difficulty with this theorem,” Sheldon said. “Is it too sophisticated for you limited understanding of universe?”
Sherlock blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Don't worry,” Sheldon said, “Doctor Watson - John - explained to us your limitations. Please understand, we don't...well, we do judge you, but we'll just gloss over that point and resolve to speak slowly. I'll draw a diagram for you, shall I?” He turned to the whiteboard behind him and drew a circle. “These are those who knew Leslie.” He drew a circle. “And the ones in this circle are those in this room who have the technical knowledge to build a particle beam weapon-”
“What?” Lestrade.
“That would be, in common parlance, a raygun,” Sheldon said. “You know, big pointy bolt of light? Except without the actual light of o course, because this isn't a comic book.”
“Condescending little shit, isn't he?” Donavan muttered.
“Oh, you have no idea,” muttered Leonard.
Meanwhile, Sheldon had drawn a second circle that had intersected the first, and John frowned.
“Wait, isn't this a venn diagram?”
Sheldon smiled beatifically. "Give the good Doctor a clap. The years you've wasted on the softer sciences has obviously not totally wasted you deductive reasoning."
~*~*~
A thousand years, and Amanda still thought her place was on top. Rebecca let out a huff that might be laugh as she rolled them, straddling her. Her hair was a dark halo of curls on the bedcovers, and Amanda seemed to practically glow with excitement.
She had forgotten how intoxicating this was.
She leaned in and captured a lip; a tiny nip that made Amanda gasp softly. She deepened the contact. It had been a while since they'd kissed.
She felt Amanda's hands slide under her dress and bypass her stockings, her fingers prying greedily for access. She shifted, and Amanda moaned into her mouth as her fingers found what she was looking for. It was now Rebecca's turn to gasp.
Clever fingers pushed inside her, a thumb anchoring the pleasure at her nub of her clit. She arched her back letting the assault on her senses flow over her. Amanda took advantage and rolled the again. Grinning down at her triumphantly as she tugged down a strap of her dress with her other hand and latched onto a breash. Teeth firm, tongue teasing, her fingers pushed in deep...
The orgasm surged though her, glorious and golden.
~*~*~
But back to the meme (snagged from everywhere!
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I will give you 1-3 sentences from or about it.
~*~*~
A Meme doing the rounds on my flist, reminded me of all fics the I started this year that never quite made it off the drawing board (although, I'm still holding out hope for a few) Here are a few snippets from fics that'll probably never see the light of day.
47 AD, The Isle of Skye
He was a young. Barely a lad of thirteen summers when he first came to stand in her hall. A mongrel in ill fitting armour and a belligerent tilt to his shoulders. The low thrum of an incipient quickening not yet flowered drifted around him. Not yet one of them, but that day wasn't be far off, if the glint in his eye were anything to go by.
“And who would you be, boy?” Rebecca asked.
“Sétanta,” he said, waving a rod of ash in front of him.
Rebecca sighed. “Bring it to me,” she said. He approached her seat warily, his eyes wavering to the hounds in front of the hearth. “Don't mind them,” she said. “They heel well.”
The ogham message etched into the ash rod was brief and to the point. “This one is going to be trouble. I thought of you.” Ah yes, Choncobhar, your humour always had a sharp sting at the end.
He eyed her warily, and Rebecca noted the slightly hunted expression on his face. A foundling's lot in Eire was better than in most, the laws on such things were very exacting, but it was still far from ideal.
“What should I call you?” he asked bluntly.
“The call me Scathach.” She eyed the boy. “But you may call me Mistress.” She rose from her seat and the hounds rose with her. “You can sleep at the hearth tonight. I expect you to rise an hour before dawn. Tomorrow we shall see to a more permanent arrangement, although what that might have to wait until after I test your mettle. Be ready.”
~*~*~
I fail to see how you could have difficulty with this theorem,” Sheldon said. “Is it too sophisticated for you limited understanding of universe?”
Sherlock blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Don't worry,” Sheldon said, “Doctor Watson - John - explained to us your limitations. Please understand, we don't...well, we do judge you, but we'll just gloss over that point and resolve to speak slowly. I'll draw a diagram for you, shall I?” He turned to the whiteboard behind him and drew a circle. “These are those who knew Leslie.” He drew a circle. “And the ones in this circle are those in this room who have the technical knowledge to build a particle beam weapon-”
“What?” Lestrade.
“That would be, in common parlance, a raygun,” Sheldon said. “You know, big pointy bolt of light? Except without the actual light of o course, because this isn't a comic book.”
“Condescending little shit, isn't he?” Donavan muttered.
“Oh, you have no idea,” muttered Leonard.
Meanwhile, Sheldon had drawn a second circle that had intersected the first, and John frowned.
“Wait, isn't this a venn diagram?”
Sheldon smiled beatifically. "Give the good Doctor a clap. The years you've wasted on the softer sciences has obviously not totally wasted you deductive reasoning."
~*~*~
A thousand years, and Amanda still thought her place was on top. Rebecca let out a huff that might be laugh as she rolled them, straddling her. Her hair was a dark halo of curls on the bedcovers, and Amanda seemed to practically glow with excitement.
She had forgotten how intoxicating this was.
She leaned in and captured a lip; a tiny nip that made Amanda gasp softly. She deepened the contact. It had been a while since they'd kissed.
She felt Amanda's hands slide under her dress and bypass her stockings, her fingers prying greedily for access. She shifted, and Amanda moaned into her mouth as her fingers found what she was looking for. It was now Rebecca's turn to gasp.
Clever fingers pushed inside her, a thumb anchoring the pleasure at her nub of her clit. She arched her back letting the assault on her senses flow over her. Amanda took advantage and rolled the again. Grinning down at her triumphantly as she tugged down a strap of her dress with her other hand and latched onto a breash. Teeth firm, tongue teasing, her fingers pushed in deep...
The orgasm surged though her, glorious and golden.
~*~*~
But back to the meme (snagged from everywhere!
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I will give you 1-3 sentences from or about it.