It's meme o' clock
I should be sleeping, instead I'm memeing.
Talk about five of your favorite fics you've written, based on a category of your choosing: favorite fics for a certain ship, fics with your five favorite lines, fics set in a certain season, fics featuring a kumquat - anything you like! Just so long as you choose a category with five fics in it and you tell us why you like them.
The category I'm going with is five passages I really like.
5. Virgin State of Mind (Gabriel/Elle)
Thanks to her, you’ll stay Gabriel. You know it with an unwavering uncertainty now. Sylar was a fluke, a onetime thing. A mistake. You were broken before, but now she’s fixing you in more than one way. As you pull down her pants, revealing soft blonde curls, your breath hitches and you feel painfully aroused. She was perfect. It’s like looking at a piece of art. You almost feel hesitant to attempt to touch her. After all, the only other girls you had ever seen were in magazines you had bought behind your mother’s back as a teenager. But her beauty is real unlike the airbrushed beauties of Hustler and Playboy. You can see scars scattered across her pale skin from where her father probably experimented on her, but they don’t bother you. If anything, they make you think even more of her. She’s had to endure so much. How could someone like you, someone so insignificant, ever be good enough?
But then she grabs your hand and guides it down her body, letting you know it’s okay to touch her. Not only is it okay, but more so, she wants you to touch her. And somehow, that makes it even better. You dig your fingers inside of her, and like a watch, she begins to wind up. Her hitched, shallow, ragged breathing almost sounds like a tic-tic-tic in your brain keeping perfect time with the clock on your wall. It’s possibly the best sound you’ve ever heard. Or it is until you rub against just the right place, sending her over the edge. Her back arcs like an acrobat as she cries out your name.
So no lie: I am really picky on second person and generally don't write in it, but this story insisted on being written this way, and it's still one of my favorite things I've ever written. I really like the imagery here, and the sense of urgancey, and anytime I got to really delve into Gabriel/Sylar's insecurity issues? Always a plus.
This is also probably the most intimate feeling smut piece I've written, and I really like that part of it.
4. I'm Marking It Down To Learning (Amnesia!Sylar/Elle)
He rolls up his sleeve to reveal one of his arms. From his bag he pulls out one of Edgar’s knives, something that was leant to him for just this experiment. He takes a deep breath before driving it down into his own forearm, crying out in pain as he does so. He remembers Samuel’s words, his instructions about how he has to keep the blade in until she revives, or the skin will heal before enough blood flows. His blood falls on her in tiny little droplets, a different type of baptism. Samuel had submerged him in the water, cleansed him of his sins, but now Gabriel is lending his blood to help someone be literally reborn, not just spiritually.
He watches the corpse carefully, and then suddenly, it begins to change. It becomes less black, and slowly begins to heal and reform, reversing any signs of decay. It becomes less mangled and begins to look more like a girl. A really pretty one. Pale creamy skin (she’s nude, her clothes must have burnt off before), blonde hair, and when they open, the most beautiful blue eyes she’s ever seen.
She looks like an angel. Or a newborn child. Maybe both. He’s not sure.
As she gasps for air, he finds himself suddenly breathless. It’s almost like playing god. Resurrecting the dead. Giving back life. What gives him the right?
So, I'm a little in love with imagery in my writing, if you haven't noticed. I also really overall like playing with religion and god complexes when it comes to Sylar. Also, this story was an interesting experiment in exploring how bringing someone back from the dead wouldn't be all it's cracked up to be. And learning lessons the hard way. I never originally planned on Elle dying in the end, but it suited the story better, so I went with it. Sometimes stories want to go a certain way, and I've learned to try not to fight them.
3. And Please Don't Drive Me Blind (Puck/Rachel)
Rachel didn’t hear from him for weeks. No phone calls, no dinner dates, no emails, nothing. She tried to “accidently” run into him a few times at the places they used to frequent together. It was almost as if he was avoiding her. Naturally, Rachel knew this wasn’t the case. He was a very busy young man, she was a very busy and talented young woman. It…Who was she kidding? She knew that’s exactly what he was doing. She had been foolish to think she could get more out of him than sex.
Even if he wanted something more, he’d never allow himself to have it. At least, not from someone who could love him back. She’d think it was tragic if it didn’t hurt her so much.
…Actually, in spite of herself, she did kind of think it’s tragic.
So future fic is a tricky thing to write, and I generally try to avoid it? But I kind of love how this fic came out none the less. It's an interesting exploration I think of how both characters might grow, or not grow. This particular passage I really love because the best part of writing Rachel, for me, is her introspection. The way she sees the world differently than everyone around her. So I really enjoyed exploring that.
2. The Trick Is To Keep Breathing (Cordelia/Oz)
"Are you sure?" he asked harshly, positioning himself above her. Cordelia had to keep back the laugh at the back of her throat as she helped him slide on a condom. She wasn't. She hadn't been sure of anything in a long time. She had lost her status, her money, her future, and now Xander too. What was there to be sure of, anymore?
"Just do it."
She wrapped her arms around him now, digging her nails into his back as she pulled him closer to her. She felt him slide inside her, breaking past her last barrier, the only one she had left. She felt her stitches tear a bit, and it was like she was being torn apart all over again.
"Are you okay?"
His words were soft, and concerned, and completely inappropriate. She bucked her hips, encouraging him to continue despite the pain. She wasn't looking for soft. She wasn't looking for sweet, not now. Sweet only got her hurt. Xander was sweet. Giving her jewelry, making her think she mattered.
And it was important to matter. More than anything, that was important to Cordelia.
"I'm fine," she assured him between gasps for air, even though for once in her life, she was lying. She wasn't okay, and every thrust, every kiss, every meeting of their skin was just a reminder of everything that was wrong.
So, this is the second sex scene I've quoted for this meme, but I can't help it. I love using sex in fiction as a medium to explore other issues. And ultimately, this fic isn't about sex at all, but it's about Cordelia being hurt and trying to find comfort (or revenge, it's a little of both) and only hurting herself more. It feels very real to me, which I like.
1. Maybe I'll Be The Lucky One Who Doesn't Get Burned (Angel/Cordelia)
"I'm not a coward," he hissed in anger, but his words lacked conviction. They lacked truth. He didn't believe them, and she thought maybe, just maybe, she could finally get through to him.
"You are, Angel. Things got hard, they didn't go your way so you gave up, you gave in, and now you feel isolated and alone, which is probably what led you to a strip club of all places to begin with, which is really, really pathetic. But at least this place is so sad no one has to worry about you getting the big perfect happiness with some chippy you pick up."
"I didn't give up," he protested, his nails digging into her bare skin, adding their marks to the bruises he had already left there. She couldn't tell if he was trying to convince himself or her. Maybe it was both.
It was her turn to challenge him now. Her eyes met his, noticing the outlining amber in them. "Prove it."
Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers, hot and desperate. He bucked his hips up to meet hers. The friction, the tension, was too much for him to take. He came inside his pants, and it was all because of her.
She gasped into his mouth at his reaction and frantically pulled herself off of him. There was a moment of shock, and suddenly she was afraid to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might find there. But even more afraid that she might find nothing there.
Stories with female characters posing as strippers don't normally appeal to me, but when I saw the prompt of this idea during Angel's beige period, it really appealed to me. I chose this passage because again, it's one of my favorite ways to write: using sexuality and friction to explore other issues. And I like that even though Cordelia is shakened from the encounter, she ultimately comes out of it more empowered than I think Angel does. It was also interesting to explore how even though Angel tried to shut himself down during that period, he still cared in spite of himself. This is probably my favorite fic I've written more recently.
And with that, bedtime. Happy Easter, Passover, cheap candy on Monday or whatever.
Talk about five of your favorite fics you've written, based on a category of your choosing: favorite fics for a certain ship, fics with your five favorite lines, fics set in a certain season, fics featuring a kumquat - anything you like! Just so long as you choose a category with five fics in it and you tell us why you like them.
The category I'm going with is five passages I really like.
5. Virgin State of Mind (Gabriel/Elle)
Thanks to her, you’ll stay Gabriel. You know it with an unwavering uncertainty now. Sylar was a fluke, a onetime thing. A mistake. You were broken before, but now she’s fixing you in more than one way. As you pull down her pants, revealing soft blonde curls, your breath hitches and you feel painfully aroused. She was perfect. It’s like looking at a piece of art. You almost feel hesitant to attempt to touch her. After all, the only other girls you had ever seen were in magazines you had bought behind your mother’s back as a teenager. But her beauty is real unlike the airbrushed beauties of Hustler and Playboy. You can see scars scattered across her pale skin from where her father probably experimented on her, but they don’t bother you. If anything, they make you think even more of her. She’s had to endure so much. How could someone like you, someone so insignificant, ever be good enough?
But then she grabs your hand and guides it down her body, letting you know it’s okay to touch her. Not only is it okay, but more so, she wants you to touch her. And somehow, that makes it even better. You dig your fingers inside of her, and like a watch, she begins to wind up. Her hitched, shallow, ragged breathing almost sounds like a tic-tic-tic in your brain keeping perfect time with the clock on your wall. It’s possibly the best sound you’ve ever heard. Or it is until you rub against just the right place, sending her over the edge. Her back arcs like an acrobat as she cries out your name.
So no lie: I am really picky on second person and generally don't write in it, but this story insisted on being written this way, and it's still one of my favorite things I've ever written. I really like the imagery here, and the sense of urgancey, and anytime I got to really delve into Gabriel/Sylar's insecurity issues? Always a plus.
This is also probably the most intimate feeling smut piece I've written, and I really like that part of it.
4. I'm Marking It Down To Learning (Amnesia!Sylar/Elle)
He rolls up his sleeve to reveal one of his arms. From his bag he pulls out one of Edgar’s knives, something that was leant to him for just this experiment. He takes a deep breath before driving it down into his own forearm, crying out in pain as he does so. He remembers Samuel’s words, his instructions about how he has to keep the blade in until she revives, or the skin will heal before enough blood flows. His blood falls on her in tiny little droplets, a different type of baptism. Samuel had submerged him in the water, cleansed him of his sins, but now Gabriel is lending his blood to help someone be literally reborn, not just spiritually.
He watches the corpse carefully, and then suddenly, it begins to change. It becomes less black, and slowly begins to heal and reform, reversing any signs of decay. It becomes less mangled and begins to look more like a girl. A really pretty one. Pale creamy skin (she’s nude, her clothes must have burnt off before), blonde hair, and when they open, the most beautiful blue eyes she’s ever seen.
She looks like an angel. Or a newborn child. Maybe both. He’s not sure.
As she gasps for air, he finds himself suddenly breathless. It’s almost like playing god. Resurrecting the dead. Giving back life. What gives him the right?
So, I'm a little in love with imagery in my writing, if you haven't noticed. I also really overall like playing with religion and god complexes when it comes to Sylar. Also, this story was an interesting experiment in exploring how bringing someone back from the dead wouldn't be all it's cracked up to be. And learning lessons the hard way. I never originally planned on Elle dying in the end, but it suited the story better, so I went with it. Sometimes stories want to go a certain way, and I've learned to try not to fight them.
3. And Please Don't Drive Me Blind (Puck/Rachel)
Rachel didn’t hear from him for weeks. No phone calls, no dinner dates, no emails, nothing. She tried to “accidently” run into him a few times at the places they used to frequent together. It was almost as if he was avoiding her. Naturally, Rachel knew this wasn’t the case. He was a very busy young man, she was a very busy and talented young woman. It…Who was she kidding? She knew that’s exactly what he was doing. She had been foolish to think she could get more out of him than sex.
Even if he wanted something more, he’d never allow himself to have it. At least, not from someone who could love him back. She’d think it was tragic if it didn’t hurt her so much.
…Actually, in spite of herself, she did kind of think it’s tragic.
So future fic is a tricky thing to write, and I generally try to avoid it? But I kind of love how this fic came out none the less. It's an interesting exploration I think of how both characters might grow, or not grow. This particular passage I really love because the best part of writing Rachel, for me, is her introspection. The way she sees the world differently than everyone around her. So I really enjoyed exploring that.
2. The Trick Is To Keep Breathing (Cordelia/Oz)
"Are you sure?" he asked harshly, positioning himself above her. Cordelia had to keep back the laugh at the back of her throat as she helped him slide on a condom. She wasn't. She hadn't been sure of anything in a long time. She had lost her status, her money, her future, and now Xander too. What was there to be sure of, anymore?
"Just do it."
She wrapped her arms around him now, digging her nails into his back as she pulled him closer to her. She felt him slide inside her, breaking past her last barrier, the only one she had left. She felt her stitches tear a bit, and it was like she was being torn apart all over again.
"Are you okay?"
His words were soft, and concerned, and completely inappropriate. She bucked her hips, encouraging him to continue despite the pain. She wasn't looking for soft. She wasn't looking for sweet, not now. Sweet only got her hurt. Xander was sweet. Giving her jewelry, making her think she mattered.
And it was important to matter. More than anything, that was important to Cordelia.
"I'm fine," she assured him between gasps for air, even though for once in her life, she was lying. She wasn't okay, and every thrust, every kiss, every meeting of their skin was just a reminder of everything that was wrong.
So, this is the second sex scene I've quoted for this meme, but I can't help it. I love using sex in fiction as a medium to explore other issues. And ultimately, this fic isn't about sex at all, but it's about Cordelia being hurt and trying to find comfort (or revenge, it's a little of both) and only hurting herself more. It feels very real to me, which I like.
1. Maybe I'll Be The Lucky One Who Doesn't Get Burned (Angel/Cordelia)
"I'm not a coward," he hissed in anger, but his words lacked conviction. They lacked truth. He didn't believe them, and she thought maybe, just maybe, she could finally get through to him.
"You are, Angel. Things got hard, they didn't go your way so you gave up, you gave in, and now you feel isolated and alone, which is probably what led you to a strip club of all places to begin with, which is really, really pathetic. But at least this place is so sad no one has to worry about you getting the big perfect happiness with some chippy you pick up."
"I didn't give up," he protested, his nails digging into her bare skin, adding their marks to the bruises he had already left there. She couldn't tell if he was trying to convince himself or her. Maybe it was both.
It was her turn to challenge him now. Her eyes met his, noticing the outlining amber in them. "Prove it."
Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers, hot and desperate. He bucked his hips up to meet hers. The friction, the tension, was too much for him to take. He came inside his pants, and it was all because of her.
She gasped into his mouth at his reaction and frantically pulled herself off of him. There was a moment of shock, and suddenly she was afraid to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might find there. But even more afraid that she might find nothing there.
Stories with female characters posing as strippers don't normally appeal to me, but when I saw the prompt of this idea during Angel's beige period, it really appealed to me. I chose this passage because again, it's one of my favorite ways to write: using sexuality and friction to explore other issues. And I like that even though Cordelia is shakened from the encounter, she ultimately comes out of it more empowered than I think Angel does. It was also interesting to explore how even though Angel tried to shut himself down during that period, he still cared in spite of himself. This is probably my favorite fic I've written more recently.
And with that, bedtime. Happy Easter, Passover, cheap candy on Monday or whatever.