actionreaction: ([characters] reid)
As part of a yearly tradition with [personal profile] yabamena, we write each other drabbles for the 12(+1) days of Christmas. Day 13: More surprise fanfic! This is also the bonus day, and the last day ;_; SADS. Anywhere here. Have some Covenant fic.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Reid Garwin it was that he was a reckless skirt-chaser. He took chances none of the other sons of Ipswich would -- not even Pogue -- and flirted with every attractive girl who passed by. He went through relationships like he went through tissues and considering he was a young man with a healthy sex drive, he went through a lot of both.

Your Breath Fills My Lungs )
actionreaction: classic image of a nightmare - a creature sitting on the chest of an unconscious woman ([symbols] nightmare)
It's been forever, I know. I have a (new) really demanding job time-wise and I haven't been forceful enough in carving out writing time. But I did some writing on the train today, while I'm suffering from a book hangover, so I'll post some snippets. It's a little over five sentences, but I'm sure you won't mind. ;)

"Shannon, not all dream creatures are created by peaceful sleepers. Feasters a product of terror and nightmares. Like those stories about the Jabberwocky, they feed off fear. Recurring nightmares make them stronger and so do night terrors."

I swallowed and then said, "So if a Dreamwalker has a recurring nightmare or night terror-"

"They can probably create the most powerful and terrifying Feaster to come out of the Nightmare world."

Snippet

Jan. 29th, 2013 12:24 pm
actionreaction: photo of a single red poppy flower, up close ([symbols] poppy)
From Dreamwalker. This was written in the early planning stages, and then discarded before NaNo so I could start fresh. Now though, I think I need to rework some of what I've written and revamp this bit because this impact of their 'first meeting' is better than what's currently written.

I was shocked at the face I saw as I stood in front on the class. No one else existed for a brief moment. All I saw was him. It was all the same. He had the brown curling hair, thick in texture. His eyes, under dark brows that lent well to brooding, were a warm brown. His nose was a little wide, but it was balanced by full lips all set in a brownish face that all told me he was mixed.

I'd seen that face before. I knew it topped a tall lean body well built for basketball or softball. I knew just how that mouth could smile, and what his laughter sounded like. I even knew there was a scar under his chin. He dressed casually: Old Navy with a dash of American Eagle, and he owned a Nike baseball cap in red and black.

It was in my bag. He was the kid from my dream.

He was staring at me now and I knew what he saw. Thin, slender frame, fitted jeans and an indie tee. Pale Irish skin marred in a few places by freckles, especially across my nose. He saw chin-length angled dark brown hair that tended to ever really look combed. Thin brows, blue eyes, a small nose and lips. Not thin, just a small mouth in general. He stared at me as I stared at him because-

He recognized me too.
actionreaction: close cropped photo of steven strait as caleb in the covenant ([characters] caleb)
I have been looking for this since last week to post here. I worte it a while ago but for some reason it never made it into my writing journal. Covenant fic, Caleb/Pogue, rated soft R I guess?

The streets of Ipswich were imprinted in Caleb’s mind, with a definitiveness shared by all four sons of Ipswich. It was their home, the place made theirs - not just their whole lives, but their ancestors’ as well, for generations. They played out like a rural map in Caleb’s mind, and if it wouldn’t lead to Pogue insisting he watch the road, Caleb could drive them with his eyes closed. Barring the occasional semi.

The streets of Cambridge were new, needed to be learned. It wasn’t far from Ipswich, but it was far enough that it wasn’t quite home. Maybe not yet, maybe not ever. But they were new, and it would take time to learn them even half as well as they knew Ipswich.

But it was neither the streets of Ipswich nor of Cambridge that held Caleb’s focus. It was the map of Pogue’s body, lines and roads he both knew so well and not at all that he strove to drive now. He mapped them with his eyes, his hands, his fingers, his tongue. He tasted the remains of chlorine on mostly dry skin. He felt tight muscles under that smooth and taut skin. He saw every turn, curve, angle, and line that made Pogue’s body a city to discover all on its own.

His mouth covered Pogue’s when he finally drove home, the sounds he made swallowed whole, and more satisfying than a thousand nights’ driving in Ipswich or Cambridge combined. The power in him rose to meet Pogue’s when legs wrapped around his waist and he knew it didn’t matter where he was, where he drove.

Pogue’s body held the streets that would always lead him home.


I'm sick so I'm impressed i managed to find something to post here at all today. Also I just realized I completely forgot last Monday's post so I posted this and backdated.

Snippet

Jan. 24th, 2013 01:07 pm
actionreaction: text: we do not write because we want to. we write because we have to. [Somerset Maugham] ([quote] we write because)
Something from Lunacy, though I have no idea where it fits in, to be honest.
Nico's eyes widened when he saw my neck. It was smooth, dark, and unblemished, free of every mark he'd left there. Knowing full well what he was and what he was capable of didn't stop me from moving closer, into his personal space.

"You can play your games with your brother, Nico, but you had better remember that I'm not a thing. Hickies and love bites are one thing, but if you ever-" I poked him in the chest, hard "-ever try to mark me like that again, you will seriously and deeply regret it." It was probably foolish to threaten a werewolf, but I meant every word of it. He knew that, yet that wasn't why he was staring at me so incredulously.

"Julia...how did you heal so fast? That isn't possible. It shouldn't be." His dark eyes were fixed on my neck as he spoke but when he finished they climbed up to mine. It was that question, that look on his face, that cut me off mid-tirade. He pressed his advantage. "Yesterday, I bit you here," and he drew his finger along my neck, his eyes tracking the movement. "I put my initials here," he continued, and the memory of his audacity made me flare in anger again, but his hand drifted downward, over the curve of my breast where NG had been prominently displayed only yesterday, just over my heart. He glanced from his hand up to my face again. "Nothing's there. At all. Healing that fact Julia, it's...impossible."

"No," I whispered in response, my eyes wide and my voice shaking. "It's just inhuman."
actionreaction: close cropped photo of steven strait as caleb in the covenant ([characters] caleb)
So this is actually a WIP. It came out of nowhere and I don't know where it's going but we'll see :D

It all changed when Chase showed up. )
actionreaction: photo of kevin zegers, staring staright ahead ([characters] iosif)
And with this one, I am all caught up! Oh snap!

While Pete sleeps, Iosif's fingers dance over his skin, lingering in sweet soft spots as they go. They pause in the small of Pete's back, then move up over the curve of his rear. There the rest of his hand joins in, curving over smooth skin. He reverses direction, moving up Pete's spine, stopping a moment while Pete lets out a soft hum of a sound.

Pet's completely worn out again, like all his energy's been sucked right out of him, and once again, Iosif feels like a livewire, too much energy to sit still. Now he sort of knows how Pete feels, always ready to go.

But something's off, something's different and Iosif can't really put his fingers on it. Maybe if he saw his eyes glow deep red when he was sucking Pete off, or biting his neck, he might realize he was draining energy from Pete, sucking it right out through whichever chakra was closest. Maybe he'd realize that the gidim trapped in him was slowly getting stronger off Pete's abundant energy.

Right now though, he teases a soft spot between Pete's neck and shoulder and leaves him to sleep while he reads up on their next mission. It's Pete's first one, and they're going together and Iosif can't put into words how much that makes him smile. A new burst of energy surges through him at the thought and it's all he can do not to wake Pete up. Instead, he'll wait until the blond in his bed is awake and ready on his own steam. His hand settles in Pete's hair, carding through it softly as he reads.

Whispers of energy trickle through Pete's crown chakra but this time Iosif unconsciously manages to push it back. The gidim is strong, but Iosif's stronger and there's no way he's letting anything happen to Pete on his watch.
actionreaction: mini icons of coffee, computer, pens and paper. text: now what? ([writing] now what?)
So...this is probably among the most productive spur-of-the-moment writing I've done, as I thnk this will fit in very nicely to the series I want to finish first. Rock on.

For the first time since I'd met Jared, Diego, and Lisa, I couldn't remember my dreams. In fact, that was probably a first, period. I'd always been able to remember them, without fail. Then of course, I developed the ability to navigate my own and other people's and that just made them easier to remember. Even when Jared built dreams for me, ones that were full of places we couldn't go in real life, places that never existed or didn't anymore, I couldn't remember them. His face would fall in the mornings at school when he'd ask how I enjoyed it, and I had to tell him I couldn't remember.

He stopped asking, but I don't think he stopped creating. He just waited for me to remember.

I couldn't wait. I wanted to talk to Delia, but she was still gone, missing like she'd never existed. I couldn't talk to Jared, not without seeing the disappointment lurking behind his dark brown eyes. I tried talking to Lisa since she could induce dreaming with her herbs, and even concoct something to help me remember them. I tried it, the strange tea she made and had to tell her, defeat as bitter in my mouth as the tea's aftertaste, that it hadn't worked.

Finally I talked to Diego. He could help people sleep, but not necessarily dream. He could watch other people's dream's though, something he didn't really do without permission, I gave him mine. I needed to know that I really was still dreaming, that there was some reason I just couldn't remember.

The next day, Diego's face was solemn, and he pulled me aside, as though he didn't want Jared to hear.

"You're dreaming, Shannon. Jared built a dream for you last night. You were both there." He hesitated a little, as though he'd seen something in the dream he didn't want to talk about. I went red, knowing the kinds of dreams Jared has sent before. "But so was someone else. There was another figure there, another watcher, and he's the reason you can't remember. You're not just forgetting your dreams, Shannon. They're being stolen."


I just don't know which novel of the series this belongs in. I suspect the third, so I'll tag it as such for now..

Snippet

Dec. 5th, 2012 09:58 am
actionreaction: mini icons of coffee, computer, pens and paper. text: now what? ([writing] now what?)
So I'm working on my [livejournal.com profile] bb_shousetsu story, which I can't really post here until it's finished and published in the zine, which means until it's done, I'm posting unfinished snippets that I wrote in ten-fifteen minutes, because most of my time is focused on [livejournal.com profile] bb_shousetsu. Yet I don't want to break my posting streak. So have this random thing I wrote and will eventually finish as some point.

Frankie loved the morning. The morning after a full moon were his favorites, when his strength was at a high and Belial was still asleep. Full moons meant Belial was weak, at his low point, and the mornings after meant Frankie had done his best to ease that weakness. Considering Belial was an incubus who drew strength from dreams - and more from waking lust - it was a wonder Frankie himself was even awake. But even if his body was tired, sore, and twinging, he couldn't ignore the pull of dawn. He couldn't deny his need to slip out of bed, climb up to the rooftop and, with a contented sigh, let his wings spread.

Frankie's wings were a soft dove grey, shot through with paler shades, with white and tipped a slightly darker grey. They weren't the pure white most people associated with angels. At first Frankie had been concerned about that. The whiter the wings the purer the angel. His were grey and he knew why. Belial.


On the plus side, I'm 100 words away from the minimum word count for [livejournal.com profile] bb_shousetsu!
actionreaction: mini icons of coffee, computer, pens and paper. text: can't feel my brain ([writing] can't feel my brain)
One day I will actually have to outline this series better so I know what is actually happening >.>

Julia had heard the phrase said before: it's not paranoia when they really are out to get you. It was true. In that circumstance, it was being aware and being prepared. The low growls in the distance were a warning. They weren't coming from either Terry or Nico, and briefly she wondered when she got to the point where she could tell one wolf's howl apart from another's. Even the twins sounded different to her, Nico's howl being a little deeper and wilder, Terry's being softer, and almost recognizable as vaguely human. These cries were were even more wild than Nico's.

Julia leaped over fallen branches with the kind of ease that didn't come naturally for a human, but she was a runner and years of training had given her speed above and beyond normal people. It would help, but she wasn't sure it was enough. They were after her, and she was sure they wouldn't stop until she - or they - were dead.

Which was why she was stunned when she put on another burst of speed, ducking and dodging through the trees as well as they were, better than, since she'd had a head start. Somehow, she, an ordinary human, was outrunning werewolves out for her blood. It was only when she made it into the safety of her own mountain-ash and wolfsbane-lined room, did she relax enough to wonder at the strangeness of it.

Who were they? Why were then after her? And how had she managed to outrun them.

She balled her hands into fists. Somehow, she knew Nico and Terry would have the answers, and if Terry wouldn't tell her, then Nico would.

It was time to find out everything that they were keeping from her.
actionreaction: photo of spinning top from inception. text: it's only when we wake up that we realize something was strange ([inception] something was strange)
This was not the prompt I'd intended to do today, but then I saw this picture and I had to.

The moon was full. The cloudless sky was riddled with stars, and the moon shone unnaturally bright over the woods behind Julia's house. She tugged aside the heavy curtain letting the light stream in, knowing tonight Nico would be out there. In her hand she held a silver locket with a secret compartment filled wolfsbane. Terry's necklace. He was going to be be out there too. Julia stepped back and lined her window with a mixture of mistletoe and rye, then dusted it with mountain ash, for good measure. The way Nico and Terry were acting lately she didn't want either of them near here, and certainly not during the full moon.

She was a little worried about Terry though. He'd been staving off changing for so long he was certainly weaker as a wolf than Nico was. Nico reveled in the change and taunted his twin for being lesser, for rejecting what he was. They fought badly enough in human form. What would happen tonight?

Julia put the necklace under her pillow and climbed into bed. No, she shouldn't be worried about Terry. He'd lied to her, repeatedly, and seemed to think that was just going to slide now. Now that she needed "protecting". That was a laugh. Julia didn't need protecting from Nico; Terry did. Julia didn't need protecting from anyone.

Her dreams that night were full of the moon, of fur and claws and teeth, of blood and howls, of rejoicing and pain. She wasn't just listening to the wolves, she was among them, one of them.

And just like Nico, she reveled in it.

Maybe I'll save that other prompt for tomorrow.
actionreaction: photo of a single red poppy flower, up close ([symbols] poppy)
So in an effort to keep posting regularly, here is another excerpt. I gotta get back on track writing/editing this.

By the time I got home after the dance, I was completely exhausted. )

I LIIIIIVE

Oct. 10th, 2012 03:04 pm
actionreaction: photo of spinning top from inception. text: it's only when we wake up that we realize something was strange ([inception] something was strange)
Trying to get back into posting here regularly, so here! Have an excerpt from Oneiric Chronicles! This probably will bee in Book 2, not Book 1.
"I know about you, Shannon." Diego's voice was deep and quiet, low enough for only me to hear him.

I froze where I was, paintbrush poised to swipe a generous splash of blue across the canvas. "What?"

"You heard me. Jared knew for a while, didn't he? Well, now so do I. I figured it out. I figured you out."

I went cold, an impressive feat considering it was already 85 degrees outside and the sun was beating down on my shoulders. Diego came closer, throwing his shadow over me and the painting. "You- you know?"

"I figured you didn't want to tell anyone else because you had no idea how we'd react right? But you told Jared, because you guys are so close." There was something about the way he said that that made me shiver, and remember all those intense looks, the ones where I thought he was reading me. Maybe he had been. "But the way I see it, we're your friends, and maybe we'd understand better than anyone. Maybe Jared wasn't the only person who could have been there for you."

Instead of his words making me want to confide in him, they just made me angry. "Would you stop it? Stop talking about him like he's dead! He's not dead, he's just-"

"Just what? Because you and I both know he's not at any camp. I'm his best friend Shannon, I deserve to know why I can't even get a hold of him. Where is he? Tell me where he is Shannon, and I'll forget the fact that you've been keeping secrets from us for months."

Ooooooh~
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (Default)
So this is from a series I started called Lunacy. Unsurprisingly, it's about werewolves and this is part of a scene where Nico is making advances on a girl his brother Terry is dating. It's so much more complicated from that, but in a nutshell, that's all the backstory you need to know for this part.

It's only a wee bit racy )
actionreaction: mini icons of coffee, computer, pens and paper. text: now what? ([writing] now what?)
Meant to post this the other day, but whatevs.



Now, after a break, I get to pretty much redo the whole thing because it's going to be at least twice as long as I originally intended. Or something.

Lawd Almighty, I won.
actionreaction: mini icons of coffee, computer, pens and paper. text: can't feel my brain ([writing] can't feel my brain)
Haven't posted in a while again, but I hit a real milestone this week, which as surprising considering how many days I felt like I was pulling teeth to get the minimum word count out. However, I hit 40K on Sunday, 45K on Tuesday, and am literally 1111 words away from finishing now. I expect to get 'er done tomorrow (technically later today) during the write-in. There's a scene I wrote just to make my characters happy that SO WILL NOT BE IN THE FINAL EDIT, but whatever, it counts for the word count.

Once I hit 50K, you guys get another excerpt, and I get to figure out what needs to be done to actually finish this story.

Oops.

Nov. 11th, 2010 12:22 am
actionreaction: photo of spinning top from inception. text: it's only when we wake up that we realize something was strange ([inception] something was strange)
Haven't posted here since last week. I broke 30k on Monday! I am feeling quite accomplished even though I look at my outline and go "wtf was this what I was supposed to be writing?" Because ummmm, it's not really? Anymore?

Also, I realized all my excerpts so far were like...um horrible nightmarish things and wanted to point out that YES THERE ARE GOOD PARTS TOO. There is ROMANCE or something like it. ANYWAY I am clearly on crack as you can see from the random caps, so here is a HAPPY EXCERPT OKBYE.

Bow chicka bow bow! )

No, I have no idea who the hell Marisol is. Bitch showed up in my story without permission.

MY BRAIN

Nov. 5th, 2010 06:54 pm
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen ([nano 2010] plot? what plot?)
So, we're about to finish up at the Mid-Manhattan Library write-in. I wrote over 2000 words in under 2 hours bringing my total up over 20,000. According to y stats, at this rate I'll hit 50,000 by November 13. That doesn't mean I'll be done though.

There's so much plot left to happen and it would be nice to actually...get to it. I think tomorrow I'll try to write an action scene, just to see how it plays out.

For now:


Another excerpt to come later.
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen ([nano 2010] plot? what plot?)
So by day three of Nano, you should have 5,000 words. I currently have a little over 15,300. My brain hurts, but it is a beautiful pain. I'm a third of the way through, and apparently if I only write 1285 more words a day for the rest of the month, I'll still be on target. Considering I'm writing about 5000 words a day, I think I'll be all right.

At the moment though my brain feels like it was pounded with a dull spoon and I can barely string two words together. So I'm gonna cut this short and go nurse my pudding-brain.

Holy crap.

Nov. 2nd, 2010 12:22 pm
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen ([nano 2010] plot? what plot?)
Two days into nano and I'm at over 10,000 words. I'm incredibly proud of myself. I have no idea what the hell I've written but that's not the focus right now. I'm just opening my brain and letting words fall out and I'll worry about making editing changes and, well, sense later on.

I posted an excerpt in my nano profile, and I'll share it here.

"Hey! Wait for me!" I yelled and I picked up my pace, running around two small children playing with a pink and red colored ball. The sun shone brightly through the trees as I chased the figure ahead of me, and I held up a hand to shade my eyes from the suddenly blinding light. The figure ahead hopped over a low park bench, but I went around, suddenly feeling like I couldn't possibly jump that high. To my left, a flock of crows suddenly fled the tree they were hiding in, their cawing sounding more like laughter than like a simple bird-call.

I made the mistake of looking at them as they took off, and when I turned back to my chase, the figure ahead of me was gone. I didn't stop running though, even though I knew I'd lost whoever it was. I ran until I found an old playground in a forgotten part of the park, rundown, and rusting. The old metal slide had chipped paint and the bottom rung of the ladder was broken. The swings were in worse shape. The chains holding some were broken, leaving the swings to hang and move sadly in the wind. One swing was missing entirely, the two long chains dangling off into nothing. In the far side, near the broken sprinkler, a small child was huddled.

This wasn't whom I'd chased here, and yet I approached her anyway. She was maybe about seven years old, with brown curly pigtails, and was holding a small blond doll. I had slowed to a walk as soon as I reached the playground, and I kept a cautious pace as I came closer. "Hi," I said, uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

The little girl lifted a tear-stained face and looked up at me, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she just closed her eyes and screamed.

Yeah it was writing this that helped cement the fact that my genre has shifted from the last shreds of fantasy into horror and supernatural. Bring on the fear factor. I wrote a second scene similar to this one that...was creepier honestly, and I'll probably post that excerpt a little later.

Profile

actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (Default)
action-reaction

December 2016

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Tags

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags