meeeeeeeeeme
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence several lines from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence several lines so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
Ganked from Deconcentrate, who is also where I got the cheating more-than-one-sentence bit.
Who plod in lonely ways Sarah, Nita, Kit, Jareth, the Lone Power, crossover
Someone looking at Sarah Williams now would have wondered what she was thinking, that her eyes were so cold, and they might well have been a little afraid of this teenage girl and her serious, searching look.
She was thinking about Toby, and about a self-described, cowardly dwarf who had saved her life, and about a ten-foot tusked orange monster who had nevertheless been the single kindest being Sarah had ever met, and about a small, fierce, courageous fox-knight and his sheepdog steed. She was thinking about a tiny goblin woman hunched under a load of rubbish, and about peaches with worms inside, and about ballrooms that were bounded by a crystal nutshell.
And she was thinking about the Goblin King, the smug condescension in his voice and the look on his face when Sarah had realized where the Labyrinth's power really lay.
She was thinking about life. All the petty little cruelties of it, and how she felt she had been punched when she realized what Ludo and Hoggle and Sir Didymus were willing to do for her. Because she'd said she was their friend.
She was thinking about duty, and the payment of debts, and the fact that life was not fair, but sometimes you won anyway.
She was also, and this perhaps was another reason that someone looking at her might be a little nervous, thinking about consequences. She was recalling a dark-haired girl in jeans and a peasant blouse, her voice shaking as she stammered, "I didn't mean it!"
"What's said," another remembered voice replied, "Is said."
Words, Sarah was remembering, had power. That was also in the book. What was said was said, and could not be taken back simply because you had changed your mind.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was very quiet. "'In Life's name, and for Life's sake, I say that I will use the Art for nothing but the service of that Life. I will fight to guard growth and ease pain. I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way; and I will change no object or creature unless its growth and life, or that of the system of which it is part, are threatened. To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so -- until Universe's end.'"
Her voice had been quiet, but the somber tones of it seemed to ring in the empty room as though she had been standing in a theater, bouncing off the empty nooks where teddy bears had once been. She sat cross-legged on the bed for another moment, looking out of her window as though she expected something to come bursting in, then she got up, slipped the book back into her backpack, and went downstairs for dinner.
Dare itself to interpose, Hippolyta/Adeline, AU
Hippolyta smiles back and stretches a hand for Adeline's, and she is braced enough for the throw that Adeline's technique only knocks her off-balance. Adeline laughs, challenged and respected here as she has never been in (not home. perhaps it was never home.) England, and blocks her strike to attempt a hit of her own.
Life all laced, Itachi and Sasuke
Itachi is proud of Sasuke's loyalty and he is furious that someone other than him is the target of Sasuke's dedication. Sasuke could have died, and what else does Itachi need to *do*, what else does Itachi need to take, to show Sasuke that he is the best thing the Uchiha have ever made, and it is Sasuke's task to cleanse their name so that the Uchiha can be worthy of Sasuke.
This is why Itachi takes the jinchurikii of Konoha. Itachi would have given his services to Akatsuki's goal regardless of which of the jinchurikii he had been sent after, but.
But Sasuke is in Konoha, and the jinchurikii is Sasuke's teammate, and Itachi has a lesson to teach Sasuke.
Sasuke had always asked Itachi to teach him. This is next time.
Understanding comes unsought, Slade/Adeline, AU
Slade keeps *looking* at her, looking at her as though she is a stranger he desperately wants to know, and it is only the presence of their sons that makes her simply raise a questioning eyebrow in response each time she catches him rather than pinning him to a wall and demanding to know what is behind his expression.
It is possible she is slightly on-edge, Adeline thinks, and hides her laugh in a lingering sip of her coffee.
Red, white, and blue about, Columbia/Rosie the Riveter
Columbia has no scars, no burns on her hands, no cuts on her knuckles. She has worn helmets and carried swords, but you could not prove it by her body. Columbia is an ideal, what America will wish their women to return to when the need for Rosie is over.
Rosie is as close to human as someone of their sort can get.
Even the weariest river, Slade
He doesn't recognize any of the bodies around him. Maybe wouldn't even if there was someone he knew, but there isn't enough of him to care with now. He leaves, jumping from rock to rock, slipping around broken weapons and shattered armor in a careful, crouching movement.
Day of resurrection, Tim, Bruce/Jason, AU
"There is a new Spoiler operating in Gotham."
The non-expression on Bruce's face precisely matches Tim's own. Tim exhales carefully, watching Bruce's eyes. "Male, well-trained. Based on current observations, he is non-lethal, using mostly hand-to-hand tactics and the occasional projectile weapon. Speaks with a Gotham accent, most likely from the general area of Park Row and probably in his early twenties. Amount of time operating unknown, but he was unobserved until tonight."
Bruce says... approximately nothing at all. His hand on Tim's bare shoulder is heavy, most likely meant to convey his own reminded grief. It is not particularly comforting, but Tim takes the touch in the spirit with which it was almost certainly intended.
Shrine of each patriot's devotion, Columbia, Britannia
Bea's never found it this hard to breathe before. The dust gets in her hair and on her clothing, under her nails and coating the backs of her teeth. Despite the cloth over her nose, her mouth, the dust dries up her tongue and catches sharply in her nostrils, gritty in her eyes.
Flash of a thought as bright and as cold as a sword, she deserves this, *America* deserves this, and for a moment she crumples under the tears of the women in her country.
Stands again, staggering, almost falling, but Columbia catches herself and straightens under the wind.
Once she had been queen of a white (alabaster) city (undimmed by human tears) by a saltless sea, and now she would take even salted water simply for the chance to soak the earth enough to have a moment's respite from the endless dust.
She does not have enough moisture in her eyes to weep, and there is nowhere to go where she could breathe anything but dust.
Unto its labor's knee, Tim, AU
The part of being Black Mask that Tim enjoys most isn't being the middleman for hiring assassins. It's figuring out their paychecks.
Nestles in your hand, Bruce/Jason, missing scene
He has, of course, been *trying* --
He had not truly thought he would catch Red Hood. The man is very... skilled.
He is all of Jason's promise fulfilled, *excelled*, he is -- if only in terms of ability -- everything Bruce had known he would be.
He is currently bound to an unfamiliar gurney in the cave, limp in the zip-strips. Bruce had not taught him how to escape from this position, from these materials.
He will wake up very soon.
Bruce is not ready. Batman is not here.
The dull sheen of Red Hood's helmet on the console is almost as accusatory as the gleaming plaque on the Case.
Brave Vertue's younger brother, Jason
And *way* better than sex is the crunch of a perp's nose under his fist and the spray of blood onto his cheekbone, the edge of the mask. Finally getting *all* the teeth in some creep's head after it's been just the left ones for fucking *hours*, making sure that little girl gets home safe, beating fucking hell out of that rat bastard who kept taking a tire iron to his kids -- they've got more scars than *he* does -- knowing Leslie will take care of the ones they didn't get there fast enough for.
And he's why there's enough *left* for her to take care of.
The spirit of the troops, Slade, Adeline, AU
Alone with her, Slade can't stop the question. "Addie, what happened?" For her to have sought him out, it must be truly drastic, and he curses the contract that kept him out of contact for so long.
He had expected her to draw the gun. What he hadn't expected was for her to offer it to him. "I killed Joseph." Her voice is as steady as her pulse.
"Adeline?" The tension in her body and her face say it's the truth, but her words refuse to resolve into anything resembling logic. He takes the gun from her, more to get it out of her hands than anything else, and watches her expression tighten. "Tell me what happened." This makes so little sense that he needs her to explain, even as the possibility that both of his sons are lost runs through his veins like a numbing drug.
"He was... he'd gone mad." Quick stutter of her heartbeat before it evens again; he can hear the effort it takes for her to breathe normally. "I shot him. Twice through the heart, then one headshot." Her mouth twitches in a sort of smile he's only seen her aim at raw recruits. "I was surer with him than I was with you."
He needs the rest of this story, knows there is more to it, wonders what piece of those reckless, altruistic children's lives has taken his other son, and yet he understands now what's driven Adeline to his door. Which is why he flicks the safety back on and tucks the gun into the back of his slacks. That (unlike his old mistake) she had had no choice is beyond obvious to anyone that had ever seen her hold either of their sons. "Addie..." The gulf between them had been less vast when she cocked (yes, it is the same, he remembers the weight of the weapon he'd given her) this very gun behind him than it is now.
"Don't." Her voice should, by all rights, have been sharp. Angry.
He would have preferred any anger to the almost *lost* tone she has now.
If thine eye offends thee, Book
His knuckles are a trifle sore. There is no real damage, no need to go to the infirmary or to treat them himself.
The damage is to his soul, not to his hands. The captain had been right, and punching the man had only proven him more right.
Book can't stay here.
I... like to keep busy?
(OH GOD SAVE ME I STILL HAVE TO DO YULETIDE.)
Ganked from Deconcentrate, who is also where I got the cheating more-than-one-sentence bit.
Who plod in lonely ways Sarah, Nita, Kit, Jareth, the Lone Power, crossover
Someone looking at Sarah Williams now would have wondered what she was thinking, that her eyes were so cold, and they might well have been a little afraid of this teenage girl and her serious, searching look.
She was thinking about Toby, and about a self-described, cowardly dwarf who had saved her life, and about a ten-foot tusked orange monster who had nevertheless been the single kindest being Sarah had ever met, and about a small, fierce, courageous fox-knight and his sheepdog steed. She was thinking about a tiny goblin woman hunched under a load of rubbish, and about peaches with worms inside, and about ballrooms that were bounded by a crystal nutshell.
And she was thinking about the Goblin King, the smug condescension in his voice and the look on his face when Sarah had realized where the Labyrinth's power really lay.
She was thinking about life. All the petty little cruelties of it, and how she felt she had been punched when she realized what Ludo and Hoggle and Sir Didymus were willing to do for her. Because she'd said she was their friend.
She was thinking about duty, and the payment of debts, and the fact that life was not fair, but sometimes you won anyway.
She was also, and this perhaps was another reason that someone looking at her might be a little nervous, thinking about consequences. She was recalling a dark-haired girl in jeans and a peasant blouse, her voice shaking as she stammered, "I didn't mean it!"
"What's said," another remembered voice replied, "Is said."
Words, Sarah was remembering, had power. That was also in the book. What was said was said, and could not be taken back simply because you had changed your mind.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was very quiet. "'In Life's name, and for Life's sake, I say that I will use the Art for nothing but the service of that Life. I will fight to guard growth and ease pain. I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way; and I will change no object or creature unless its growth and life, or that of the system of which it is part, are threatened. To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so -- until Universe's end.'"
Her voice had been quiet, but the somber tones of it seemed to ring in the empty room as though she had been standing in a theater, bouncing off the empty nooks where teddy bears had once been. She sat cross-legged on the bed for another moment, looking out of her window as though she expected something to come bursting in, then she got up, slipped the book back into her backpack, and went downstairs for dinner.
Dare itself to interpose, Hippolyta/Adeline, AU
Hippolyta smiles back and stretches a hand for Adeline's, and she is braced enough for the throw that Adeline's technique only knocks her off-balance. Adeline laughs, challenged and respected here as she has never been in (not home. perhaps it was never home.) England, and blocks her strike to attempt a hit of her own.
Life all laced, Itachi and Sasuke
Itachi is proud of Sasuke's loyalty and he is furious that someone other than him is the target of Sasuke's dedication. Sasuke could have died, and what else does Itachi need to *do*, what else does Itachi need to take, to show Sasuke that he is the best thing the Uchiha have ever made, and it is Sasuke's task to cleanse their name so that the Uchiha can be worthy of Sasuke.
This is why Itachi takes the jinchurikii of Konoha. Itachi would have given his services to Akatsuki's goal regardless of which of the jinchurikii he had been sent after, but.
But Sasuke is in Konoha, and the jinchurikii is Sasuke's teammate, and Itachi has a lesson to teach Sasuke.
Sasuke had always asked Itachi to teach him. This is next time.
Understanding comes unsought, Slade/Adeline, AU
Slade keeps *looking* at her, looking at her as though she is a stranger he desperately wants to know, and it is only the presence of their sons that makes her simply raise a questioning eyebrow in response each time she catches him rather than pinning him to a wall and demanding to know what is behind his expression.
It is possible she is slightly on-edge, Adeline thinks, and hides her laugh in a lingering sip of her coffee.
Red, white, and blue about, Columbia/Rosie the Riveter
Columbia has no scars, no burns on her hands, no cuts on her knuckles. She has worn helmets and carried swords, but you could not prove it by her body. Columbia is an ideal, what America will wish their women to return to when the need for Rosie is over.
Rosie is as close to human as someone of their sort can get.
Even the weariest river, Slade
He doesn't recognize any of the bodies around him. Maybe wouldn't even if there was someone he knew, but there isn't enough of him to care with now. He leaves, jumping from rock to rock, slipping around broken weapons and shattered armor in a careful, crouching movement.
Day of resurrection, Tim, Bruce/Jason, AU
"There is a new Spoiler operating in Gotham."
The non-expression on Bruce's face precisely matches Tim's own. Tim exhales carefully, watching Bruce's eyes. "Male, well-trained. Based on current observations, he is non-lethal, using mostly hand-to-hand tactics and the occasional projectile weapon. Speaks with a Gotham accent, most likely from the general area of Park Row and probably in his early twenties. Amount of time operating unknown, but he was unobserved until tonight."
Bruce says... approximately nothing at all. His hand on Tim's bare shoulder is heavy, most likely meant to convey his own reminded grief. It is not particularly comforting, but Tim takes the touch in the spirit with which it was almost certainly intended.
Shrine of each patriot's devotion, Columbia, Britannia
Bea's never found it this hard to breathe before. The dust gets in her hair and on her clothing, under her nails and coating the backs of her teeth. Despite the cloth over her nose, her mouth, the dust dries up her tongue and catches sharply in her nostrils, gritty in her eyes.
Flash of a thought as bright and as cold as a sword, she deserves this, *America* deserves this, and for a moment she crumples under the tears of the women in her country.
Stands again, staggering, almost falling, but Columbia catches herself and straightens under the wind.
Once she had been queen of a white (alabaster) city (undimmed by human tears) by a saltless sea, and now she would take even salted water simply for the chance to soak the earth enough to have a moment's respite from the endless dust.
She does not have enough moisture in her eyes to weep, and there is nowhere to go where she could breathe anything but dust.
Unto its labor's knee, Tim, AU
The part of being Black Mask that Tim enjoys most isn't being the middleman for hiring assassins. It's figuring out their paychecks.
Nestles in your hand, Bruce/Jason, missing scene
He has, of course, been *trying* --
He had not truly thought he would catch Red Hood. The man is very... skilled.
He is all of Jason's promise fulfilled, *excelled*, he is -- if only in terms of ability -- everything Bruce had known he would be.
He is currently bound to an unfamiliar gurney in the cave, limp in the zip-strips. Bruce had not taught him how to escape from this position, from these materials.
He will wake up very soon.
Bruce is not ready. Batman is not here.
The dull sheen of Red Hood's helmet on the console is almost as accusatory as the gleaming plaque on the Case.
Brave Vertue's younger brother, Jason
And *way* better than sex is the crunch of a perp's nose under his fist and the spray of blood onto his cheekbone, the edge of the mask. Finally getting *all* the teeth in some creep's head after it's been just the left ones for fucking *hours*, making sure that little girl gets home safe, beating fucking hell out of that rat bastard who kept taking a tire iron to his kids -- they've got more scars than *he* does -- knowing Leslie will take care of the ones they didn't get there fast enough for.
And he's why there's enough *left* for her to take care of.
The spirit of the troops, Slade, Adeline, AU
Alone with her, Slade can't stop the question. "Addie, what happened?" For her to have sought him out, it must be truly drastic, and he curses the contract that kept him out of contact for so long.
He had expected her to draw the gun. What he hadn't expected was for her to offer it to him. "I killed Joseph." Her voice is as steady as her pulse.
"Adeline?" The tension in her body and her face say it's the truth, but her words refuse to resolve into anything resembling logic. He takes the gun from her, more to get it out of her hands than anything else, and watches her expression tighten. "Tell me what happened." This makes so little sense that he needs her to explain, even as the possibility that both of his sons are lost runs through his veins like a numbing drug.
"He was... he'd gone mad." Quick stutter of her heartbeat before it evens again; he can hear the effort it takes for her to breathe normally. "I shot him. Twice through the heart, then one headshot." Her mouth twitches in a sort of smile he's only seen her aim at raw recruits. "I was surer with him than I was with you."
He needs the rest of this story, knows there is more to it, wonders what piece of those reckless, altruistic children's lives has taken his other son, and yet he understands now what's driven Adeline to his door. Which is why he flicks the safety back on and tucks the gun into the back of his slacks. That (unlike his old mistake) she had had no choice is beyond obvious to anyone that had ever seen her hold either of their sons. "Addie..." The gulf between them had been less vast when she cocked (yes, it is the same, he remembers the weight of the weapon he'd given her) this very gun behind him than it is now.
"Don't." Her voice should, by all rights, have been sharp. Angry.
He would have preferred any anger to the almost *lost* tone she has now.
If thine eye offends thee, Book
His knuckles are a trifle sore. There is no real damage, no need to go to the infirmary or to treat them himself.
The damage is to his soul, not to his hands. The captain had been right, and punching the man had only proven him more right.
Book can't stay here.
I... like to keep busy?
(OH GOD SAVE ME I STILL HAVE TO DO YULETIDE.)