WIP Meme
I saw a WIP Meme go by. It was slightly different as ever, but the rules keep changing: I just stick to posting random lines from all the current WIPs I'm willing to admit to/might some day get finished...
Some runaway_tales in progress:
1. The first explosion was so small that nobody knew exactly what it was. The second, however, went off on Westminster Bridge, stopping the traffic, killing a cab driver, and swiftly making the news.
2. It is a fact fairly universally proved by this point that careless reading aloud from Ancient Egyptian scrolls always has dire consequences, but archaeologists will do it.
3. She’d like, she thinks idly, pushing her cup away and putting the book down, to be a cloud, floating away anywhere she chooses, not bound to the earth, to any one place or another. Then she leans her head on her hand and pulls a small grimace, because there’s nowhere left she wants to go.
That ridiculous Elizabeth of York/Henry VII Vampire AU. It still threatens to get written one day, though it probably won't. I'd get eaten by wild Ricardians or something:
4. Her melancholy reflections were interrupted by the sight of horsemen riding up to the castle. Elizabeth caught her breath and reached for the stake she always kept about her person. Vampires could not enter uninvited, of course, but many of them already had been allowed into Sherriff Hutton.
My TARDIS/Sapphire/Silver/Steel fic. I really should finish that one:
5. They do and yet do not exist in time and space; they are aware of other dimensions. They are not human, they are not entirely flesh and blood. They are constructed, but not machines. They have a relationship to Time she cannot entirely unravel. But she will.
A thing which was apparently started for NYR 2015, but I suspect is going to go unfinished, so you may as well have the lot now. It got superseded by an equally daft marriage guidance counsellor being evil, so...
6. “Is there no end to your villainy?” said Adam, when they finally cornered the errant vicar in the vestry. “Fiendish plots, masquerading as a man of the cloth -”
The vicar coughed. “I may have done some rather - well - perhaps they were a little unwise now that you mention it -”
Georgie thought that was a bit of a weak way to describe kidnapping at least half the couples he’d married in the last few years.
“However,” the vicar continued, “I am indeed a vicar. You can check with the bishop if you like.”
Adam hesitated. “But, no, what genuine man of the cloth would lend himself to so vile a plot?”
“Oh, oh,” said Georgie, tugging at Adam’s sleeve, as she realised the more pertinent aspect of that revelation. “Adam! That means we’re actually married!”
“Well, don’t look so put out about it,” she told him later, after the tragic ending when the vicar had tried to kill Adam at the top of the church tower, but fallen off himself. “I mean, we didn’t mean to do it. I’m pretty sure that’s a good reason for untying the knot straight off. They can annul it, can’t they? And if not, I bet I can come up with plenty of grounds for divorce.”
Adam gave her a look of pure horror.
“Oh,” said Georgie. Of course.
“I do not, Miss Jones,” he said, “break a solemn promise of that nature. I am, and always have been, a man of my word. Besides, the institution of matrimony is a sacred matter not be treated so lightly. Not to mention the damage to your reputation - you must think very little of me to imagine I could behave in such a disgraceful manner.”
“Oh,” said Georgie again. And then, “Well, in that case, it’s not Miss Jones, is it?”
She would have felt much happier about it if he hadn’t looked even more horrified at that point.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re back, sir,” said Simms, ignoring Georgie but his very vilest grimace in her direction. “What you might have been going through didn’t bear thinking about. Thank God it wasn’t real.”
Adam and Georgie exchanged a glance.
“Ah,” said Adam, tugging at his collar with a finger. “There may have been a slight hitch.”
Georgie translated: “You can say that again. More than a slight hitch. We’re married and Adam doesn’t believe in divorce. I might do, though. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Miss Jones!” said Adam, and then looked awkward again. “Ah, that is to say, Georgina -”
They both paused, and then looked down at Simms, prostrate on the floor.
“You know, I think we’ve killed him,” said Georgie sadly.
My attempt at
unconventionalcourtship for 2015, which I do hope I will finish, because there's enough of it that I really should sometime:
7. “I believe the new housekeeper - if I may call her that - is in league with the free traders, sir.”
Adam looked up from the paper. “Oh, come now, Simms! She may not be particularly suitable for her current position, but I’m sure a delicately nurtured female would never -”
“Would you care to see the cellar, sir?” asked Simms in his most ominous tones.
And my overdue S&S Fandom Stocking gift fic (that will double up as an NYR 2016 fic, I think, too):
8. Suddenly, everything felt different. Jack waited for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but the blackness seemed to remain absolute. He couldn’t seem even to sense Reg or Lily on either side of him. He couldn’t feel their hands in his or hear surprised cries from anyone else in the circle. He had the uneasy feeling that he wasn’t even in the house any more.
The voice was still here, as if a disembodied thing now: “Diana,” it said. “You’ll stay now, won’t you? You’ll stay this time.”
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
Some runaway_tales in progress:
1. The first explosion was so small that nobody knew exactly what it was. The second, however, went off on Westminster Bridge, stopping the traffic, killing a cab driver, and swiftly making the news.
2. It is a fact fairly universally proved by this point that careless reading aloud from Ancient Egyptian scrolls always has dire consequences, but archaeologists will do it.
3. She’d like, she thinks idly, pushing her cup away and putting the book down, to be a cloud, floating away anywhere she chooses, not bound to the earth, to any one place or another. Then she leans her head on her hand and pulls a small grimace, because there’s nowhere left she wants to go.
That ridiculous Elizabeth of York/Henry VII Vampire AU. It still threatens to get written one day, though it probably won't. I'd get eaten by wild Ricardians or something:
4. Her melancholy reflections were interrupted by the sight of horsemen riding up to the castle. Elizabeth caught her breath and reached for the stake she always kept about her person. Vampires could not enter uninvited, of course, but many of them already had been allowed into Sherriff Hutton.
My TARDIS/Sapphire/Silver/Steel fic. I really should finish that one:
5. They do and yet do not exist in time and space; they are aware of other dimensions. They are not human, they are not entirely flesh and blood. They are constructed, but not machines. They have a relationship to Time she cannot entirely unravel. But she will.
A thing which was apparently started for NYR 2015, but I suspect is going to go unfinished, so you may as well have the lot now. It got superseded by an equally daft marriage guidance counsellor being evil, so...
6. “Is there no end to your villainy?” said Adam, when they finally cornered the errant vicar in the vestry. “Fiendish plots, masquerading as a man of the cloth -”
The vicar coughed. “I may have done some rather - well - perhaps they were a little unwise now that you mention it -”
Georgie thought that was a bit of a weak way to describe kidnapping at least half the couples he’d married in the last few years.
“However,” the vicar continued, “I am indeed a vicar. You can check with the bishop if you like.”
Adam hesitated. “But, no, what genuine man of the cloth would lend himself to so vile a plot?”
“Oh, oh,” said Georgie, tugging at Adam’s sleeve, as she realised the more pertinent aspect of that revelation. “Adam! That means we’re actually married!”
“Well, don’t look so put out about it,” she told him later, after the tragic ending when the vicar had tried to kill Adam at the top of the church tower, but fallen off himself. “I mean, we didn’t mean to do it. I’m pretty sure that’s a good reason for untying the knot straight off. They can annul it, can’t they? And if not, I bet I can come up with plenty of grounds for divorce.”
Adam gave her a look of pure horror.
“Oh,” said Georgie. Of course.
“I do not, Miss Jones,” he said, “break a solemn promise of that nature. I am, and always have been, a man of my word. Besides, the institution of matrimony is a sacred matter not be treated so lightly. Not to mention the damage to your reputation - you must think very little of me to imagine I could behave in such a disgraceful manner.”
“Oh,” said Georgie again. And then, “Well, in that case, it’s not Miss Jones, is it?”
She would have felt much happier about it if he hadn’t looked even more horrified at that point.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re back, sir,” said Simms, ignoring Georgie but his very vilest grimace in her direction. “What you might have been going through didn’t bear thinking about. Thank God it wasn’t real.”
Adam and Georgie exchanged a glance.
“Ah,” said Adam, tugging at his collar with a finger. “There may have been a slight hitch.”
Georgie translated: “You can say that again. More than a slight hitch. We’re married and Adam doesn’t believe in divorce. I might do, though. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Miss Jones!” said Adam, and then looked awkward again. “Ah, that is to say, Georgina -”
They both paused, and then looked down at Simms, prostrate on the floor.
“You know, I think we’ve killed him,” said Georgie sadly.
My attempt at
unconventionalcourtship for 2015, which I do hope I will finish, because there's enough of it that I really should sometime:
7. “I believe the new housekeeper - if I may call her that - is in league with the free traders, sir.”
Adam looked up from the paper. “Oh, come now, Simms! She may not be particularly suitable for her current position, but I’m sure a delicately nurtured female would never -”
“Would you care to see the cellar, sir?” asked Simms in his most ominous tones.
And my overdue S&S Fandom Stocking gift fic (that will double up as an NYR 2016 fic, I think, too):
8. Suddenly, everything felt different. Jack waited for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but the blackness seemed to remain absolute. He couldn’t seem even to sense Reg or Lily on either side of him. He couldn’t feel their hands in his or hear surprised cries from anyone else in the circle. He had the uneasy feeling that he wasn’t even in the house any more.
The voice was still here, as if a disembodied thing now: “Diana,” it said. “You’ll stay now, won’t you? You’ll stay this time.”
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: