Eeep.
I will never watch SVU late at night again. Lately, I've been watching it non-stop on Netflix (I don't know why it's so addicting) and last night, while I was watching it at about 2:30 in the morning, the power went out, and I immediately freaked out and assumed there was a murderer/rapist in my house. *facedesk* No more of that.
So! How about that WIP meme going around, huh? I guess the deal is, you post lines from stories that you expect to never see the light of day. Since that seems to be all I have at the moment, why not? Supernatural, Firefly, Harry Potter, and The Big Bang Theory are below the cut.
Firefly/SPN:
Another one of the men is so tall, he makes even the biggest fellas walking by look short in comparison; he’s all broad shoulders and long legs, with hair just long enough to be tied back at the base of his neck, and a kind smile. He reminds Kaylee of Mal in some ways-they both have a darkness in their eyes that don’t fit their calm nature. The sack he lugs seems to be full of books, and when he reaches up an arm to brush the bangs out his pretty eyes, Kaylee spies a gun (hell if she knows what kind of gun) jammed into his waistband as casual as you please.
The last of them is the tall one’s brother, or at least, they must be brothers-they have the same last name, they’re traveling together, and though at first glance they don’t look like relations, there’s a certain similarity between them that goes past looks. This man is tall without being lanky, rugged, and handsome in a rough sort of way-chiseled jaw, darting green eyes, freckles sprinkled across his nose. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of a beat up brown jacket Mal would grudgingly approve of, and when he gives Kaylee one of those side-long looks of his, it’s as though he can see right through her. Like he knows her mind better than she does, and they’ve only met just now.
From a Firefly/SPN crossover in which Kaylee gives Sam and Dean Simon's spot in the Pilot episode. Don't worry, though, Simon will come in later in the story...if it ever gets finished. All I have is one and a half pages, and I like it, but I keep getting stuck.
Harry Potter:
He wrote the note with trembling hands, dipping the special quill into the new bottle of ink carefully, methodically: he could not afford another mistake, not a single one. Lives depended upon it.
It wasn’t supposed to have been like this; it should never, never have gone this far…but he had always been weak, always attracted to power, to glory-to heroics and strength and bravery. Blinded, that’s what he had been, and it was going to cost him. He could not say that he minded much anymore.
Carefully, he read the few lines he’d penned, checking his spelling (it had always been poor), making certain his message would be understood at once…time was of the essence. With a long sigh, he folded the parchment and sealed it with wax, then called for the owl he had just purchased. Hastily, he scribbled on the outside of the letter:
Mr. and Mrs. Potter
2801 Archer’s Way
Godric’s Hollow
He gave it to the owl and watched as it swooped away, the message clutched tightly in its beak.
As Peter Pettigrew stared after the bird that carried what had to be the most damning note he’d ever written off into the 1981 Halloween sunset, he hoped his message wouldn’t arrive too late. He hoped, against all hope, that the most Gryffindor thing he’d done since he was seventeen years old would not be for naught-and then, he sat down on his bed, and waited for the death that would surely come if all went according to plan.
The opening of a fic that was supposed to be five lives Lily Potter never lived. I had it all planned out--each way her lives would have gone if this had happened or that had happened....and yeah. It just never got written, really.
“Hey! What in Merlin’s name is the matter with you?” The Potter Look-a-Like leaned down, grabbing at Severus’ shoulder.
“Lily’s eyes,” Severus managed. “You-you have Lily’s eyes-” The boy stared at him, eyebrow raised.
“Erm, yeah, that’s what people tell me,” he said, a hint of sorrow softening the edge in his voice. “Who are you, anyway? I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“Where am I?” Severus asked in abject horror, staring wildly around at the familiar stone walls, the woven tapestries, the portraits. It looked like Hogwarts, but how could it possibly be?
“Hogwarts.” The boy now looked a bit frantic. “I told you, you hit your head.”
“I didn’t hit my head this hard,” Severus muttered. “Oh, Merlin. I’m an idiot-too cocky for my own good-I should never have tried that stupid spell-”
“What spell?”
“It was supposed to Vanish things,” Severus whispered. “Send people far away. I was going to try it on Potter, but when I was practicing, it hit the bloody mirror and then…” He trailed off, staring at the boy, who looked a bit frightened now.
“What’s your name?” the boy asked very slowly, Lily-eyes wide as he looked Severus up and down.
“Severus,” Severus replied uneasily.
”Snape?” the boy gasped. “Oh for the love of-why in bloody hell is it always me?” His head fell to his hands in despair.
”Erm, I’m not sure I follow,” Severus said, watching the boy, who appeared to be having a panic attack of sorts. “Who are you?”
”My name’s Harry,” said the boy. “Harry Potter. I’ve heard you hate my father with the passion of a thousand burning suns?”
That’s when everything went black again. At least this time, Severus was already on the floor when it happened.
Haha, a fic in which a sixteen-year-old Snape accidentally sends himself to the future and, of course, is promptly discovered by a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter. I really did enjoy the section I wrote just after this little encounter, which involved Ron and Harry trying to figure out what the hell to do, but I don't forsee this going any further.
Supernatural: (Actually, I have a ton of stuff for this, so I'll only pick a couple stories)
Jared stared numbly at a framed photo on his desk: two aging, yet handsome, men leaning against a perfectly restored Chevy Impala, the taller one squinting into the sun, a wide smile spread across his lined face, the shorter one grinning half-heartedly, green eyes dancing, the butt of a gun just visible inside his beaten leather jacket. Between them stood a skinny, beaming boy, a dusty suitcase at his feet, his arms proudly folded across his chest. The two men each had a hand rested on either of the boy’s shoulders, and sunlight glinted off the silver amulet that hung around the kid’s neck.
Somewhere in the distance, Jared could see the dusty pages of mysterious tomes that had been packed away twenty years too long, smell bacon frying, hear a gruff voice chanting Latin in the dead of night.
“Jared?”
We don’t need that sissy boy hanging around here all summer.
“Jared!”
Do you believe in ghosts?
“Jared! Do you need me to call someone? Jared, you’re scaring me!”
Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi….Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi…Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi…
This was supposed to be my Big Bang two years ago. I was going to revive it last year, which didn't happen, unfortunately, and I'd still love to finish it--it's like 12,000 words, and it's a great plot, but I'm stuck. It's called Secondhand Demons and is (very loosely) based off the movie Secondhand Lions. Essentially this kid, Jared Braeden, gets sent to stay with his crazy grandfather (Dean) and great-uncle (Sam) for the summer when he's twelve after his parents die in a car accident, and his Grandma Lisa is too sick with cancer to care for him. He gets to hear all about their crazy adventures and learn about the supernatural, but everything changes when they get saddled with a very rare type of demon.
He knows all of three things about himself, three things he’ll grudgingly acknowledge, three things he can’t ignore.
One is that he loves his brother, the only family he has left, with everything he has in him. That’s pretty much a given, after all. And that love means keeping Sammy safe, no matter from what, no matter why-just that as long as Sam breathes air, Dean can breathe it, too.
Two is that he will never let anything happen to the Impala. Ever. Period. The end.
It’s not just a car, don’t frigging give him that look.
His dad gave it to him, entrusted it to his care.
Dad has only ever told Dean to take care of two things in his entire life, and that is Sam and the Impala. Besides the fact that the Impala is the most amazing specimen of a car in the history of the world, it’s also the only permanent “home” Dean’s ever known. He’s spent half of his life in this thing, whether he’s driving it, riding shotgun, or stuck in the back, and that means something to a Winchester. It means something to this Winchester at any rate.
Bet you’re wondering what three is.
Yeah, Dean’s still working on that one, too.
He knows what it is. He just doesn’t get why.
Because, see, up until a few months ago, there was no number three.
This is the third thing Dean knows, the thing he’s grudgingly admitted to himself after he can’t deny it any longer:
He is terrified of Jo Harvelle.
Not for her. Of.
And it’s really fucking annoying, come to think of it.
This one was my first ever attempt at Dean/Jo. I actually really like this one--it's about two and a half years old, but I got pretty far with it, all things considered.
The Big Bang Theory: (I sincerely hope these do see the light of day, because I just started them.)
Leonard puts his hand on your bare knee one quiet Wednesday night while you’re watching Glee (he can’t stand it, though he’ll never admit it) and pretends to laugh at one of the jokes so you won’t ask if he wants to change the channel for the third time in fifteen minutes. You mention you’re starving, and he leans over and says he already ordered your usual from Siam Palace. There’s the familiar smile, the certain jut of his jaw-he tucks a stray blonde curl behind your ear, and he’s so kind and wonderful and considerate, really he is, and in that moment you know, with quiet, deliberate conviction, that you don’t love him.
Not the way you should.
My first ever attempt at Sheldon/Penny. I decided I felt like I was summarizing everything too much and that I didn't really have an idea for a plot, so I stopped.
All the most important discoveries begin with a eureka moment.
Sheldon Cooper is better acquainted with this phenomenon than most people, since he is rather prone to discoveries that often become known as the most important. Many theoretical physicists speculate, prod, poke, explore. They wonder. They inquire. They extrapolate.
Sheldon prefers to find. To know. To discover. Passivity (in the literal sense) is not in his (figurative) vocabulary, and it’s because of this that the word eureka is.
A eureka moment does not involve much dancing or shouting. Nobody runs naked down the street - Sheldon certainly can’t imagine how anyone could be so overcome they would forget to put on clothes. A eureka moment, in Sheldon’s experience, is quiet and intense and makes him catch his breath. It sneaks up on him - the unexpected answer to a tangle of formulas and theory and chaos, the missing puzzle piece that clicks into place, makes everything fit.
My only idea for this story was, "Sheldon Cooper's normal approach is useless here." I think it's supposed to be Sheldon/Penny.
“Any weird dreams?” Leonard’s voice is careful. Quiet.
“I am not in the habit of remembering my dreams,” Sheldon says. He sets down his bowl of cereal. Stares at the jug of milk glistening with condensation on the counter in front of him. Everything is how it should be. Everything is just right.
“Sheldon?”
“I have to go, Leonard,” Sheldon says, eyes still on the milk. “I have to go.” He turns, grabs for the door, doesn’t remember his keys. Doesn’t put on shoes. “I have to go!” he repeats as Leonard’s anxious protests follow him into the hallway. “I have to go.”
He walks, barefoot, past the apartment across the hall, empty for almost six years now. Barefoot down three flights of carpeted, germ-infested stairs. Barefoot across the sticky linoleum lobby. Barefoot past a small woman with her arms full of cardboard boxes and long, blonde hair piled on top of her head. She seems to be trying to prop the door open with her foot.
They lock eyes, and for a split second, Sheldon is certain they’ve met before. Déjà vu is a trick, he reminds himself, carefully not looking at the way her spaghetti-strapped shoulder has freckled, probably from lack of proper sunscreen application. There are a million blonde females wearing bright blue tanktops and ragged denim shorts roaming the streets of Pasadena. This one is no more noteworthy or special than any other.
Now this one, this one I had better finish. I seem to have a habit of getting ideas for fanfic based off of movies. This is based off of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which if you haven't seen, is really a fantastic movie, but very complicated to explain. It's also supposed to be Sheldon/Penny, and one day, if I can ever motivate myself, I swear to God I will finish it.
Phew. I think that's all for now. And just in case any of you missed it yesterday and are in the mood for some writin', penny_lane_42 is running a Three Sentence Fic-a-Thon at her journal--all fandoms welcome, a ton of fun, and we need more participants!
So! How about that WIP meme going around, huh? I guess the deal is, you post lines from stories that you expect to never see the light of day. Since that seems to be all I have at the moment, why not? Supernatural, Firefly, Harry Potter, and The Big Bang Theory are below the cut.
Firefly/SPN:
Another one of the men is so tall, he makes even the biggest fellas walking by look short in comparison; he’s all broad shoulders and long legs, with hair just long enough to be tied back at the base of his neck, and a kind smile. He reminds Kaylee of Mal in some ways-they both have a darkness in their eyes that don’t fit their calm nature. The sack he lugs seems to be full of books, and when he reaches up an arm to brush the bangs out his pretty eyes, Kaylee spies a gun (hell if she knows what kind of gun) jammed into his waistband as casual as you please.
The last of them is the tall one’s brother, or at least, they must be brothers-they have the same last name, they’re traveling together, and though at first glance they don’t look like relations, there’s a certain similarity between them that goes past looks. This man is tall without being lanky, rugged, and handsome in a rough sort of way-chiseled jaw, darting green eyes, freckles sprinkled across his nose. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of a beat up brown jacket Mal would grudgingly approve of, and when he gives Kaylee one of those side-long looks of his, it’s as though he can see right through her. Like he knows her mind better than she does, and they’ve only met just now.
From a Firefly/SPN crossover in which Kaylee gives Sam and Dean Simon's spot in the Pilot episode. Don't worry, though, Simon will come in later in the story...if it ever gets finished. All I have is one and a half pages, and I like it, but I keep getting stuck.
Harry Potter:
He wrote the note with trembling hands, dipping the special quill into the new bottle of ink carefully, methodically: he could not afford another mistake, not a single one. Lives depended upon it.
It wasn’t supposed to have been like this; it should never, never have gone this far…but he had always been weak, always attracted to power, to glory-to heroics and strength and bravery. Blinded, that’s what he had been, and it was going to cost him. He could not say that he minded much anymore.
Carefully, he read the few lines he’d penned, checking his spelling (it had always been poor), making certain his message would be understood at once…time was of the essence. With a long sigh, he folded the parchment and sealed it with wax, then called for the owl he had just purchased. Hastily, he scribbled on the outside of the letter:
Mr. and Mrs. Potter
2801 Archer’s Way
Godric’s Hollow
He gave it to the owl and watched as it swooped away, the message clutched tightly in its beak.
As Peter Pettigrew stared after the bird that carried what had to be the most damning note he’d ever written off into the 1981 Halloween sunset, he hoped his message wouldn’t arrive too late. He hoped, against all hope, that the most Gryffindor thing he’d done since he was seventeen years old would not be for naught-and then, he sat down on his bed, and waited for the death that would surely come if all went according to plan.
The opening of a fic that was supposed to be five lives Lily Potter never lived. I had it all planned out--each way her lives would have gone if this had happened or that had happened....and yeah. It just never got written, really.
“Hey! What in Merlin’s name is the matter with you?” The Potter Look-a-Like leaned down, grabbing at Severus’ shoulder.
“Lily’s eyes,” Severus managed. “You-you have Lily’s eyes-” The boy stared at him, eyebrow raised.
“Erm, yeah, that’s what people tell me,” he said, a hint of sorrow softening the edge in his voice. “Who are you, anyway? I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“Where am I?” Severus asked in abject horror, staring wildly around at the familiar stone walls, the woven tapestries, the portraits. It looked like Hogwarts, but how could it possibly be?
“Hogwarts.” The boy now looked a bit frantic. “I told you, you hit your head.”
“I didn’t hit my head this hard,” Severus muttered. “Oh, Merlin. I’m an idiot-too cocky for my own good-I should never have tried that stupid spell-”
“What spell?”
“It was supposed to Vanish things,” Severus whispered. “Send people far away. I was going to try it on Potter, but when I was practicing, it hit the bloody mirror and then…” He trailed off, staring at the boy, who looked a bit frightened now.
“What’s your name?” the boy asked very slowly, Lily-eyes wide as he looked Severus up and down.
“Severus,” Severus replied uneasily.
”Snape?” the boy gasped. “Oh for the love of-why in bloody hell is it always me?” His head fell to his hands in despair.
”Erm, I’m not sure I follow,” Severus said, watching the boy, who appeared to be having a panic attack of sorts. “Who are you?”
”My name’s Harry,” said the boy. “Harry Potter. I’ve heard you hate my father with the passion of a thousand burning suns?”
That’s when everything went black again. At least this time, Severus was already on the floor when it happened.
Haha, a fic in which a sixteen-year-old Snape accidentally sends himself to the future and, of course, is promptly discovered by a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter. I really did enjoy the section I wrote just after this little encounter, which involved Ron and Harry trying to figure out what the hell to do, but I don't forsee this going any further.
Supernatural: (Actually, I have a ton of stuff for this, so I'll only pick a couple stories)
Jared stared numbly at a framed photo on his desk: two aging, yet handsome, men leaning against a perfectly restored Chevy Impala, the taller one squinting into the sun, a wide smile spread across his lined face, the shorter one grinning half-heartedly, green eyes dancing, the butt of a gun just visible inside his beaten leather jacket. Between them stood a skinny, beaming boy, a dusty suitcase at his feet, his arms proudly folded across his chest. The two men each had a hand rested on either of the boy’s shoulders, and sunlight glinted off the silver amulet that hung around the kid’s neck.
Somewhere in the distance, Jared could see the dusty pages of mysterious tomes that had been packed away twenty years too long, smell bacon frying, hear a gruff voice chanting Latin in the dead of night.
“Jared?”
We don’t need that sissy boy hanging around here all summer.
“Jared!”
Do you believe in ghosts?
“Jared! Do you need me to call someone? Jared, you’re scaring me!”
Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi….Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi…Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi…
This was supposed to be my Big Bang two years ago. I was going to revive it last year, which didn't happen, unfortunately, and I'd still love to finish it--it's like 12,000 words, and it's a great plot, but I'm stuck. It's called Secondhand Demons and is (very loosely) based off the movie Secondhand Lions. Essentially this kid, Jared Braeden, gets sent to stay with his crazy grandfather (Dean) and great-uncle (Sam) for the summer when he's twelve after his parents die in a car accident, and his Grandma Lisa is too sick with cancer to care for him. He gets to hear all about their crazy adventures and learn about the supernatural, but everything changes when they get saddled with a very rare type of demon.
He knows all of three things about himself, three things he’ll grudgingly acknowledge, three things he can’t ignore.
One is that he loves his brother, the only family he has left, with everything he has in him. That’s pretty much a given, after all. And that love means keeping Sammy safe, no matter from what, no matter why-just that as long as Sam breathes air, Dean can breathe it, too.
Two is that he will never let anything happen to the Impala. Ever. Period. The end.
It’s not just a car, don’t frigging give him that look.
His dad gave it to him, entrusted it to his care.
Dad has only ever told Dean to take care of two things in his entire life, and that is Sam and the Impala. Besides the fact that the Impala is the most amazing specimen of a car in the history of the world, it’s also the only permanent “home” Dean’s ever known. He’s spent half of his life in this thing, whether he’s driving it, riding shotgun, or stuck in the back, and that means something to a Winchester. It means something to this Winchester at any rate.
Bet you’re wondering what three is.
Yeah, Dean’s still working on that one, too.
He knows what it is. He just doesn’t get why.
Because, see, up until a few months ago, there was no number three.
This is the third thing Dean knows, the thing he’s grudgingly admitted to himself after he can’t deny it any longer:
He is terrified of Jo Harvelle.
Not for her. Of.
And it’s really fucking annoying, come to think of it.
This one was my first ever attempt at Dean/Jo. I actually really like this one--it's about two and a half years old, but I got pretty far with it, all things considered.
The Big Bang Theory: (I sincerely hope these do see the light of day, because I just started them.)
Leonard puts his hand on your bare knee one quiet Wednesday night while you’re watching Glee (he can’t stand it, though he’ll never admit it) and pretends to laugh at one of the jokes so you won’t ask if he wants to change the channel for the third time in fifteen minutes. You mention you’re starving, and he leans over and says he already ordered your usual from Siam Palace. There’s the familiar smile, the certain jut of his jaw-he tucks a stray blonde curl behind your ear, and he’s so kind and wonderful and considerate, really he is, and in that moment you know, with quiet, deliberate conviction, that you don’t love him.
Not the way you should.
My first ever attempt at Sheldon/Penny. I decided I felt like I was summarizing everything too much and that I didn't really have an idea for a plot, so I stopped.
All the most important discoveries begin with a eureka moment.
Sheldon Cooper is better acquainted with this phenomenon than most people, since he is rather prone to discoveries that often become known as the most important. Many theoretical physicists speculate, prod, poke, explore. They wonder. They inquire. They extrapolate.
Sheldon prefers to find. To know. To discover. Passivity (in the literal sense) is not in his (figurative) vocabulary, and it’s because of this that the word eureka is.
A eureka moment does not involve much dancing or shouting. Nobody runs naked down the street - Sheldon certainly can’t imagine how anyone could be so overcome they would forget to put on clothes. A eureka moment, in Sheldon’s experience, is quiet and intense and makes him catch his breath. It sneaks up on him - the unexpected answer to a tangle of formulas and theory and chaos, the missing puzzle piece that clicks into place, makes everything fit.
My only idea for this story was, "Sheldon Cooper's normal approach is useless here." I think it's supposed to be Sheldon/Penny.
“Any weird dreams?” Leonard’s voice is careful. Quiet.
“I am not in the habit of remembering my dreams,” Sheldon says. He sets down his bowl of cereal. Stares at the jug of milk glistening with condensation on the counter in front of him. Everything is how it should be. Everything is just right.
“Sheldon?”
“I have to go, Leonard,” Sheldon says, eyes still on the milk. “I have to go.” He turns, grabs for the door, doesn’t remember his keys. Doesn’t put on shoes. “I have to go!” he repeats as Leonard’s anxious protests follow him into the hallway. “I have to go.”
He walks, barefoot, past the apartment across the hall, empty for almost six years now. Barefoot down three flights of carpeted, germ-infested stairs. Barefoot across the sticky linoleum lobby. Barefoot past a small woman with her arms full of cardboard boxes and long, blonde hair piled on top of her head. She seems to be trying to prop the door open with her foot.
They lock eyes, and for a split second, Sheldon is certain they’ve met before. Déjà vu is a trick, he reminds himself, carefully not looking at the way her spaghetti-strapped shoulder has freckled, probably from lack of proper sunscreen application. There are a million blonde females wearing bright blue tanktops and ragged denim shorts roaming the streets of Pasadena. This one is no more noteworthy or special than any other.
Now this one, this one I had better finish. I seem to have a habit of getting ideas for fanfic based off of movies. This is based off of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which if you haven't seen, is really a fantastic movie, but very complicated to explain. It's also supposed to be Sheldon/Penny, and one day, if I can ever motivate myself, I swear to God I will finish it.
Phew. I think that's all for now. And just in case any of you missed it yesterday and are in the mood for some writin', penny_lane_42 is running a Three Sentence Fic-a-Thon at her journal--all fandoms welcome, a ton of fun, and we need more participants!