![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lullabymoon posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writethisfanficHow did your writing go today?
Since it's friday, lets have out snippet/ask for beta/gripe post. How was your week in general?
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 13
Today I...
View Answers
wrote
5 (38.5%)
edited
4 (30.8%)
posted
4 (30.8%)
researched
2 (15.4%)
did something else fic related
4 (30.8%)
did nothing fic related
3 (23.1%)
1 being rubbish and 10 being awesome, how do you feel about your writing today?
View Answers
Mean: 4.91 Median: 5 Std. Dev 2.84
Mean: 4.91 Median: 5 Std. Dev 2.84
| 1 | 2 (18.2%) | |
|---|---|---|
| 2 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 3 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 4 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 5 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 6 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 7 | 2 (18.2%) | |
| 8 | 1 (9.1%) | |
| 9 | 0 (0.0%) | |
| 10 | 1 (9.1%) |
Tags:
no subject
Date: Friday, May 25th, 2012 18:24 (UTC)It was a slow week in general because I'd gone to a sci-fi convention last weekend and thoroughly tired myself out. Because I missed the snippet post on that occasion and because I don't have much suitable ready for this week, I'm going to cheat and post a snippet from a Lethe!verse fic that got put up on AO3 on May 15th, entitled "Kiss", which is the follow-up to a shorter piece, "Roar".
The backstory: Bob, the lead character, has taken an arrow to his upper right arm in a successful attack on a slave labour camp. He managed to free the slaves, but is now in the process of getting the wound treated back in town -- more precisely, in Megabyte's suite of rooms at the Prancing Thivar Inn.
****************************************
Beside Bob's left hand stood an empty brass goblet which had, only three minutes earlier, been full of cheap red wine laced with a painkiller: at Lorvann's insistence he'd drunk it all with a grimace — after having Glitch scan it to verify its contents — and he was already beginning to feel its effects creeping in around the edges of his mind. "A nice clean wound," the Healer was saying in the soothing lilt that all physicians seemed to adopt while treating patients, "no debris or tearing of the flesh, no sign of ballista or poison." Her voice blended nicely with the background hum of the medication, and Bob's eyelids were starting to feel heavy. "You'll be right as a quina in two days, with treatment morning and evening. It was a lucky thing, turning when you did."
"I doubt he appreciates that," Megabyte remarked, still gazing out at the darkness.
"I do," Bob insisted, catching himself with a start as his head began to nod. "I just… you didn't have to kill all of them."
"And what would you have suggested I do instead?" the virus demanded. Bob would have sworn that he was keeping his eyes averted from the blood rather than scanning the street for possibly enemy action… but this was Megabyte, who had recently torn a score of men literally to pieces with evident pleasure. "Politely requested that they not fire upon you as you approached the gate? Perhaps offered them a refreshing cup of tea and some —"
"Okay, okay, I get the point." And he did, as much as he disliked it: the archers on the wall had to be dealt with, and Megabyte had taken them all out of commission by sowing such confusion and terror in their ranks that they hadn't spared a second's attention for Bob and the other warriors running toward the camp... still, he couldn't get the images out of his mind, of how the usually poised and restrained catlana (for Megabyte was still a scholar, even now) had used his claws and his newly revealed teeth to scythe through the enemy like a demon out of a night tale.
What he liked even less was how he found himself dwelling on the memories, replaying every graceful movement and beautifully lethal attack. Or how those memories seemed to settle into his flesh as well as his brain, burning with their own traitorous and sensual fire.
Or how he ripped them apart because one of them took a shot at me — and hit. Damned twisty bastard, worming his way into my...
He was having trouble keeping his right arm extended and steady at the same time; Lorvann gently guided his hand to rest on his thigh and went on working, chanting a quick phrase in a language Bob didn't recognize as she manipulated the auric field around the wound, setting a chain of accelerated healing in motion. In the back of Bob's mind Glitch emitted a questioning chirp before falling silent again; Bob braced his left elbow on the table and settled his chin in the palm of that hand, and fought the urge to close his eyes. "What'd you just give me, anyway?"
no subject
Date: Saturday, May 26th, 2012 02:21 (UTC)