A Request

Jan 29, 2011 10:53

So...drabbles.

Love 'em or hate 'em, but I've come to find since joining charloft that I have trouble with them. I've always had issues keeping my word count into something approaching a limit. I tried to write a thousand page story for a contest? I got three thousand. I tried to keep my GilesXMissouri fic to five hundred words? Yeah, failed. Most of my ( Read more... )

writings of the real kind, meme, fanfic

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Comments 14

The music is called "Smugglers Song" telaryn January 29 2011, 16:46:46 UTC
And it's by "Pandora Celtica".

I'll defer offering a prompt until I see what you get. :-)

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hickumu January 29 2011, 16:52:24 UTC
THANK YOU. That has been in my head all morning. It's very pretty, and it...well, it sounds a lot creepier than a smuggling song normally does. Granted, most of the smuggling songs I know are from "Bridge Water Downs".

Also - almost through fourth item on to-do list. Hoping to knock five and six out before Dad gets here.

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telaryn January 29 2011, 16:55:33 UTC
No worries. It should actually be on the iTunes on your Netbook - I'm pretty sure I left everything loaded.

And stay focused! I boosted the signal on your prompt request, so hopefully you'll have other distractions later on.

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hickumu January 29 2011, 16:57:05 UTC
You...probably did, actually. I haven't made my way all the way through that sucker. I've been listening to the Godspell soundtrack, oddly enough.

I have been focused! Very focused. If the frickin' library hadn't closed early, I'd be further along. But thanks for sending the word out.

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Hey Ho and a bucket of prawns.... whuffle January 29 2011, 17:44:37 UTC
Yep, your mom put up the prompt post and that sent me here. Nice taste in music by the way. Sounds like you and I have a lot in common where that's concerned. I'm currently listening to Stan Roger's version of Barrett's Privateers. Can't beat a guy who wrote authentic sounding shanties a couple hundred years after the age of the sail was long dead. (The other thing I'm listening to is Jeff Buckley or Katie Lange's version of "Hallelujah" because I'm thrashing away at drabbles myself that have a very damaged main character and I'm trying to get him under my skin so I keep writing.) If you ever want more shanties or musicals feel free to ask away. Dear god I've got tons. Between having used to work in theater and having used to work on historical period performances, my music library is eclectic and very very large ( ... )

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hickumu January 29 2011, 23:17:13 UTC
I might take you up on that. I'm a big fan of shanties - they're the kind of song you can have stuck in your head and not mind much. At least, I don't.

Sorry for the delay! Is this something like what you meant?
_________________________________________________________________

“Stop talking. Now.”

The man sitting across from her stopped for a second - then he went right on running his mouth. “Faith, for God’s sake, would you hear me out?!”

“No chance! God, these guys, they aren’t Buffy, and if you think I’m going to…”

“Faith, the things I’ve heard, these guys are…”

Someone just behind her cleared their throat. He looked up, startled. Faith looked back, saw that Nate and Sophie had come to investigate. She pasted a bright, obviously fake smile on her face.

“Guys, this is Xander. An old friend from…before. He’s got a job for us.”

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elebridith January 29 2011, 22:54:50 UTC
So, now Lindsey's in hospital, recovering, right? After my little christmas miracle. *beams* Maybe some of his thoughts about how he's going to live now?

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hickumu January 29 2011, 23:26:50 UTC
Lindsey is in the hospital recovering, contemplating his third chance at redemption. And, as we all know, third time is the charm.

It's a little morose. But I tried to end it on a hopeful note.
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There were days where Lindsey wished that Eliot had killed them.

Mostly they coincided with the physical therapy. Along with the physical damage, the Conduit had definitely done something to his mind.

It was a fitting punishment.

Death would have been easier.

Eliot never visited. Lindsey never expected him. But some nights, when the darkness outside his window pressed in at him, hungry and clawing, Lindsey would glance at his bedside table and find a little plastic carton of Chinese food.

The doctors would have a fit if they knew. Lindsey made sure they didn't. He just ate, and hoped.

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elebridith January 30 2011, 10:06:36 UTC
Awww! Thank you, that's lovely! And very fitting. And hope is good. They can't reconcile too fast, that's impossible, but a little hope and the offer of chinese food - that's a good start. :-)

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hickumu January 30 2011, 13:55:06 UTC
Hope is good. Eliot can give Lindsey hope. And when I remembered the scene with the Chinese food, way back in "The Ties that Bind" job, I figured that was a good place to start. :) I'm really glad you liked it!

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polycistronic January 30 2011, 00:32:55 UTC
I was thinking how about an action scene! From any fandom really.

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hickumu January 30 2011, 04:28:27 UTC
Since I restarted FFXIII tonight, and since I was recommending it to you last night...
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This girl was unreal.

She had struck against their attackers on their train, and she had galvanized frightened civilians into soldiers like her, for better or worse.

All Sazh knew was that she was way too young for this. Once a father, always a father - even with Daj taken from him, he couldn’t ignore a child in pain, even if this one looked about eighteen.

She twirled and ducked and stabbed and sliced, ignoring the screams and the dying all around them, and Sazh supported her where he could. Like it or not, they were in this war together now.

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A Buffy drabble? laughingimp January 31 2011, 05:12:35 UTC
I--nay, all of us, ever--would like you to kill Harmony.

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Re: A Buffy drabble! hickumu January 31 2011, 13:16:36 UTC
The first line is...mostly inspired by/stolen from Terry Pratchett. "Jingo", I believe. But it seemed appropriate.
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Buffy knew that she could not go on, that she did not deserve a place in this brave new world unless she did this one last good thing.

And so, ignoring Harmony’s vapid pleading, drawing on the years of fear and anger that came from simply living in this world, Buffy drove the stake home.

The silence that followed was glorious, as was the feel of the dust settling over her clothes. It would be a pain to clean, but that was what dry cleaning was for.

She left the dark little alley and went home. They would be waiting.

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