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itsallovernowSo, the disappearance and reappearance of my LJ was highly traumatic. I'm sure everyone can relate. It ate my journal, posted the entry I just wrote, and has now flipflopped, eating the entry but giving me back months worth of stuff. That's a trade I'll take.
It has just been such a Monday. It's a wretched cliche, but oh so true.
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searose is right, there's a dearth of really good Farscape fic out right now. Most of it is in the coming soon to the cyberspace near you variety, which is great for sustaining a sense of anticipation, but I'm antsy. I want fic. I don't take this to mean a waning interest in the fandom however, as it's never been the most prolific fanfic community, although much of what's been produced has been far above av erage so that's a good trade off. And it means that when all these epics are finished, I'll have time to read them.
So, in a totally different vein, since I needed a tiny break from angst and plotty, chaptered fic, here's a snippet from the beginning of an original piece that will be backburnered until Blue Eyes is done. It's going to be urban fantasyish, but right now is just about summer and the things we want in those years when childhood is fading away, but hasn't yet been replaced by anythi ng concrete.
Seagreen snippet...
The heat radiating off the concrete pressed up into Kissy’s arches, tickling at the curves as it stung the pads of her feet. She did the hot potato dance, preferring to get the faded beach towel perfectly aligned rather than stand on the crab-grass infused lawn and toss it down onto the driveway. She arranged her towel with her toes, and folded her shirt up into a ball, then knelt on the terry cloth, smoothing the fabric before reaching for the warm bottle of baby oil. She rubbed it onto her skin, mimicking Kaye and her friends, and wished for the same long, tan limbs and easy elegance that her cousin possessed.
Aggie sat Indian style on the lawn, watching her intently. The itchy green blades folded up around her baby soft legs. Occasionally her thumb would drift up to her mouth, sliding between her lips, and resting there in it’s long familiar pattern until it’s owner realized what her unruly digits were doing and pulled her thumb away in embarrassment. She plucked at the grass, drawing handfuls up and watching the breeze carry them away.
Kissy stretched out, ignoring her younger sister, ignoring the gravel underneath her towel, and the bugs buzzing around her, and the sticky heat of the day. She pretended that she was Kaye, 17 and beautiful and well-liked, no awkwardness or freckles or frizzy hair or strange names or little sisters to watch. This daydream came to a screeching halt as a pelt of gra ss blew into her open mouth. She didn’t bother to open her eyes, just yelled, “Agatha, stop it.”
Her sister ignored her and continued to uproot the lawn. “It’s hot,” she complained, her small, high voice serious. R 20;I wanna go inside.”
“Fine, go inside.” Another handful of grass blew her way, sticking to her oily body. Kissy tried to brush it away, ended up smearing it around, transferring dirt from the pavement onto her skin. She sat up on her elbows and glared at Aggie. “Stop it!”
Aggie stuck her tongue out, wrinkling her nose and threw more dirt and grass at her sister. “Where’s Kaye?” she demanded.
Kissy was wondering the same thing. She knew she should call their mother, report the absence of their cousin, but she didn’t want to tell on their errant sitter.
Besides, if Kaye wasn’t around she could go to the flatlands later and investigate.
Several days ago, exploring the weedy overgrown area behind their house with Aggie in the early evening, they’d come across a coyote lapping water from the ditch. The summer had been hot and dry, and the animal’s thirst seemed more pressing than its fear. It turned calm, cold eyes upon the two girls and then continued to drink. The look it had given them seemed almost human to Kissy, knowing and aware, unlike any of the other skittish wildlife that ventured down near the houses as the heat eroded their homes. She wanted to return to the spot, seek out the animal and find out if her suspicions were true.
Kaye would just make fun of her, calling her a baby and saying she was too old to still be playing make believe. She would forbid them to wander that far away from the house, not wanting to tromp through the stink weeks, and sage, even if sometimes she would still play with them, inhabiting the role of the Queen as they scuttled and scrubbed for her, meeting her demands, taking paste pretend jewels from her hands as rewards.
It has just been such a Monday. It's a wretched cliche, but oh so true.
searose is right, there's a dearth of really good Farscape fic out right now. Most of it is in the coming soon to the cyberspace near you variety, which is great for sustaining a sense of anticipation, but I'm antsy. I want fic. I don't take this to mean a waning interest in the fandom however, as it's never been the most prolific fanfic community, although much of what's been produced has been far above av erage so that's a good trade off. And it means that when all these epics are finished, I'll have time to read them.So, in a totally different vein, since I needed a tiny break from angst and plotty, chaptered fic, here's a snippet from the beginning of an original piece that will be backburnered until Blue Eyes is done. It's going to be urban fantasyish, but right now is just about summer and the things we want in those years when childhood is fading away, but hasn't yet been replaced by anythi ng concrete.
Seagreen snippet...
The heat radiating off the concrete pressed up into Kissy’s arches, tickling at the curves as it stung the pads of her feet. She did the hot potato dance, preferring to get the faded beach towel perfectly aligned rather than stand on the crab-grass infused lawn and toss it down onto the driveway. She arranged her towel with her toes, and folded her shirt up into a ball, then knelt on the terry cloth, smoothing the fabric before reaching for the warm bottle of baby oil. She rubbed it onto her skin, mimicking Kaye and her friends, and wished for the same long, tan limbs and easy elegance that her cousin possessed.
Aggie sat Indian style on the lawn, watching her intently. The itchy green blades folded up around her baby soft legs. Occasionally her thumb would drift up to her mouth, sliding between her lips, and resting there in it’s long familiar pattern until it’s owner realized what her unruly digits were doing and pulled her thumb away in embarrassment. She plucked at the grass, drawing handfuls up and watching the breeze carry them away.
Kissy stretched out, ignoring her younger sister, ignoring the gravel underneath her towel, and the bugs buzzing around her, and the sticky heat of the day. She pretended that she was Kaye, 17 and beautiful and well-liked, no awkwardness or freckles or frizzy hair or strange names or little sisters to watch. This daydream came to a screeching halt as a pelt of gra ss blew into her open mouth. She didn’t bother to open her eyes, just yelled, “Agatha, stop it.”
Her sister ignored her and continued to uproot the lawn. “It’s hot,” she complained, her small, high voice serious. R 20;I wanna go inside.”
“Fine, go inside.” Another handful of grass blew her way, sticking to her oily body. Kissy tried to brush it away, ended up smearing it around, transferring dirt from the pavement onto her skin. She sat up on her elbows and glared at Aggie. “Stop it!”
Aggie stuck her tongue out, wrinkling her nose and threw more dirt and grass at her sister. “Where’s Kaye?” she demanded.
Kissy was wondering the same thing. She knew she should call their mother, report the absence of their cousin, but she didn’t want to tell on their errant sitter.
Besides, if Kaye wasn’t around she could go to the flatlands later and investigate.
Several days ago, exploring the weedy overgrown area behind their house with Aggie in the early evening, they’d come across a coyote lapping water from the ditch. The summer had been hot and dry, and the animal’s thirst seemed more pressing than its fear. It turned calm, cold eyes upon the two girls and then continued to drink. The look it had given them seemed almost human to Kissy, knowing and aware, unlike any of the other skittish wildlife that ventured down near the houses as the heat eroded their homes. She wanted to return to the spot, seek out the animal and find out if her suspicions were true.
Kaye would just make fun of her, calling her a baby and saying she was too old to still be playing make believe. She would forbid them to wander that far away from the house, not wanting to tromp through the stink weeks, and sage, even if sometimes she would still play with them, inhabiting the role of the Queen as they scuttled and scrubbed for her, meeting her demands, taking paste pretend jewels from her hands as rewards.
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-29 09:42 am (UTC)I just can't work on this more than off and on until I finish the fic, but I'm sticking to the "Posting makes it real and means I have to finish it" theory on this, even if I only posted the opening paragraphs.