In need of a beta....
Hi all! I'm in need of a beta and sounding board.
I just picked up a challenge from kittenrescue *points down the list* and I'm also working on an Epic Rogan fic. I'd really like someone to look over both, but the challenge fic is going to prove to be much much shorter than the epic. Below is a sample of the challenge fic, if anyone wants to get a hint at my style of writing.
Thanks!
It was incredibly muggy out. Sweat rolled down her skin like tears, dripping from clumping locks onto the dust-bowl dry dirt below her feet. But she wasn’t crying. Not yet. She was way too pissed to be sad. The heavy metal in her hand felt reassuring, solid, impressive. The muscles in her back tensed, stretching taught across her shoulder blades as she pulled back and aimed, hesitating for the smallest of seconds before swinging.
A satisfying crack issued forth as the glass spider-webbed. Pulling back again, eyes stinging, she swung once more, the web crawling across the drivers’ side window. Shards exploded on the third swing, bits and pieces of his precious Jeep littering the leather interior and the abandoned lot. He had bought it for them almost seven months ago. Proud as a peacock he had left it in the drive, a large red bow perched upon the hood. When she had asked why, he explained that they couldn’t ride the bike around anymore, and that the truck just wasn’t reliable enough. He had said that the Jeep was safe, and she had nodded, her whole face split in a grin as she realized that he was just as happy as she’d ever seen him.
But that didn’t matter anymore. None of it did. Everything she had thought was a lie, and now she was left crying in the dark, slowly working her way around the metal frame as she smashed in each and every one of the windows of that shiny new toy of his. He’d replace the windows eventually, or maybe even the damned car itself. She’d never be able to heal from this. She had a hard enough time trusting, but with him it was supposed to be different. He had always been there for her. What in the hell had happened?
She liked to touch him in the morning. Almost three years before she had learned to control her powers, to turn it on and off like a switch. As the years went by she was able to control the rate of flow, either letting everything come in fast, or letting it seep through like a trickle. She had been taking to waking before him, since things had started to change, and in those few moments from when her eyes would open until he would eventually stir she liked to touch him. To switch her power on at its lowest ‘setting’, to pull out whatever he was thinking about in that limbo between dream-world and life.
I just picked up a challenge from kittenrescue *points down the list* and I'm also working on an Epic Rogan fic. I'd really like someone to look over both, but the challenge fic is going to prove to be much much shorter than the epic. Below is a sample of the challenge fic, if anyone wants to get a hint at my style of writing.
Thanks!
It was incredibly muggy out. Sweat rolled down her skin like tears, dripping from clumping locks onto the dust-bowl dry dirt below her feet. But she wasn’t crying. Not yet. She was way too pissed to be sad. The heavy metal in her hand felt reassuring, solid, impressive. The muscles in her back tensed, stretching taught across her shoulder blades as she pulled back and aimed, hesitating for the smallest of seconds before swinging.
A satisfying crack issued forth as the glass spider-webbed. Pulling back again, eyes stinging, she swung once more, the web crawling across the drivers’ side window. Shards exploded on the third swing, bits and pieces of his precious Jeep littering the leather interior and the abandoned lot. He had bought it for them almost seven months ago. Proud as a peacock he had left it in the drive, a large red bow perched upon the hood. When she had asked why, he explained that they couldn’t ride the bike around anymore, and that the truck just wasn’t reliable enough. He had said that the Jeep was safe, and she had nodded, her whole face split in a grin as she realized that he was just as happy as she’d ever seen him.
But that didn’t matter anymore. None of it did. Everything she had thought was a lie, and now she was left crying in the dark, slowly working her way around the metal frame as she smashed in each and every one of the windows of that shiny new toy of his. He’d replace the windows eventually, or maybe even the damned car itself. She’d never be able to heal from this. She had a hard enough time trusting, but with him it was supposed to be different. He had always been there for her. What in the hell had happened?
She liked to touch him in the morning. Almost three years before she had learned to control her powers, to turn it on and off like a switch. As the years went by she was able to control the rate of flow, either letting everything come in fast, or letting it seep through like a trickle. She had been taking to waking before him, since things had started to change, and in those few moments from when her eyes would open until he would eventually stir she liked to touch him. To switch her power on at its lowest ‘setting’, to pull out whatever he was thinking about in that limbo between dream-world and life.