WORK IN PROGRESS MEME

[surskitty]

HOW THIS WORKS: Post a list of all of your filenames with works in progress in them! Then tell at least one other person to post some excerpt from a file you pick.

My list has wordcounts just because. Not all of them are fic, but most are.

 

[Tailsy]

./ficbits.txt!

I'd post mine but to be honest I'm depressed by how disorganised mine are, so I'll come back later.

 

[surskitty]

Why you gotta pick one of the short ones ; ; It's just two terribad Hetalia things and a Disgaea mafia au that never went anywhere:

[(don't) shoot the messenger] [six ways to sunday]

It's been six days since Krichevskoy died horribly (thanks to a pretzal, dumb luck, and an incident with the ice cream truck) and Etna is bored. So completely and utterly bored. His son's in a coma, his empire's in greed-induced disarray, and the guy who'd bribed her to keep the heir out (with her diary entries from the past six years, many of which she'd completely forgotten courtesy of a few too many sleeping pills) is nowhere to be found.

"This sucks," she declared.


POST SOMETHING FROM LOOK AT YOUR LIFE.odt!! [psychic]

 

[Tailsy]

Aw. But Mafia AUs are always the best AUs!!

~okay~
It's just me goofing around with Glee AU-ish-things with the 1sentence set tables because I am too easily distracted to write anything properly :( just a million too-long sentences, like so:

eight. thousand [or, where Kurt makes for the prissiest superhero ever]
“I'm sorry, but this is the thousandth time I've had to drag your stupid ass out of trouble and I don't even know your name,” his saviour and current obsession huffs, adjusting his mask (and how fascinatingly colour co-ordinated to the rest of his outfit it was, too) as he spoke and giving Blaine a suspicious once-over that kind of made Blaine want to kiss him a little bit, even if that would give his article about this masked Lima superhero even less journalistic integrity; “if you're doing this deliberately I'm going to need to have a serious discussion with you about your predicted life expectancy,” Mister Pretty Superhero continues seriously, but Blaine just grins and says that the danger comes with the job, and you'd know all about that, right?

[snip]

fifteen. hold [or, why the happy mask salesman is a bad idea]
It was strange how nicely his fingers twined into Blaine's, Kurt thought; but then again, it was also strange that they were being hounded by some Mafia-cult-group whose sacred heirloom they had erroneously bought and used as an engagement ring, and he hadn't managed to work that into a conversation yet either.

[snip]

twenty one. fool [or, where isosceles triangles are not for foreheads]
“Porcelain, I'm sorry to say that you have no taste – oh, Frank Sinatra over there might pull your chair out for you or leave trails of rose petals leading to your bedroom after a long hard day at work so you can engage in the horror that is the human mating ritual, but that doesn't stop his eyebrows from looking like they should be wedging my kitchen door open.” (“... I'll keep your observations in mind, Coach Sylvester.”)

 

[Harlequin]

OKAY MY TURN

um

Jason.odt
Book1.odt
Institute.odt
corderswepp.odt
Part 1 - Ring Lord.odt
ALaToCA.odt
The Waltz.odt

OKAY NOW UM surskitty uni-au.txt

 

[shy ♡]

Can we do this with drawings? :[

 

[Sandstone-Shadow]

Ooh, this looks fun. =D

Erika - Wind Mage.doc
The Thaier.doc
Swordplay.doc
Revanna Draft 1.5 (in revision).doc
Telethieon and Rantheon.doc
Telethieon and Rantheon2.doc
Telethieon and Rantheon3.doc

Harlequin! I choose "Book1.odt"! =]

 

[Harlequin]

Okay! This ... this appears to be all I have of Book1.otd. I thought it was longer!

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wuka stood before the throng of Witches – Riach's full complement, she noted nervously – swathed in thick, white robes. She spied the High Craftswitch to her left, and without looking she knew the High Breedswitch would be to her right. She swallowed, mouth dry, and fixed her gaze upon a small, rather insignificant, dragon that slept above the grand doors to the Witchhall. She frowned when she realised it was her own, Chiropetus, fool beast that he was.[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A long, serpentine dragon with obsidian scales crouched along the back wall, peering at Wuka with brilliant, emerald eyes. She met its gaze bravely, never having liked the largest breeds of dragon, but flicked her eyes away the moment the Highwitch began to speak.[/FONT]


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Today we are to celebrate the contributions of one of our number,” he said, his voice unaugmented by magic. He wore robes of black, with a vivid red collar, signifying his status as Highwitch of Riach Sanctuary. He was neither young nor old, but somewhere middling, and his face was scarred and battleworn. “Her chosen field is an ancient and celebrated one: healing,” he continued, “and she has established herself foremost in compassion, skill and magical talent; she is without peer among the mediwitches.”[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wuka reddened, but kept her gaze steadily on her sleeping dragon. The Highwitch had always been too fond of her to speak without exaggeration, and she would be feeling the effects of his ludicrous ideas for weeks after the ceremony.[/FONT]


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is for this reason that she has been selected from the many mediwitches of our Fellowship to ascend the rank of High Mediwitch.”[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wuka blushed further when she saw the previous High Mediwitch dressed in sober robes of dark green, his collar white, denoting a High Mediwitch. He shuffled forward slowly (almost agonisingly so, thought Wuka grimly) and replaced the Highwitch at the podium.[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wuka looked over him, noting sadly that he looked every bit a bicentennial. Where he had once been a muscular young man he was a mere shell of his former greatness—greatness that Wuka had heard of since she came to study at the Sanctuary nearly twenty years before, as a young child.[/FONT]


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is with great pleasure,” he said confidently, his voice not at all an old man's, “that I confer upon Wuka the status of, and the responsibilities that come with, High Mediwitch.” He turned to her, and she stepped forward with but a moment's hesitation.[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She had been schooled for the ceremonial transfer of powers for weeks, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer, overwhelming experience of the man before her. She grasped his forearm and he hers. [/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The grand Witchhall was silent, even the dragons (save her own snoring Chiropetus), as the green of his robes faded to grey, and the white of her own drank the green colour thirstily, leaving only a thin strip at his colour. He was now Highwitch Emeritus, whereas her vividly-coloured robes with a thin white collar marked her as the new High Mediwitch. [/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]His hands freed hers and she bowed to him, deeply, hoping for dear life that her hair was still done, and waited until he had bowed himself. With a slight grimace she healed her blush away, and stepped up to the podium herself, her new robes feeling heavy about her feet. [/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She spoke her words slowly but surely, and her speech lasted mere moments. With one last bow, Wuka exited the dais through the door that led to the antechamber set off the Witchhall.[/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]* * *[/FONT]

I chooooose Revanna Draft 1.5

 

[Sandstone-Shadow]

C= One excerpt from Revanna Draft 1.5 (in revision).doc coming right up!

Narraco wasted no time. “The tigers and bears are at war.”

The council was silent. Then Aranember cawed loudly. She cawed and cawed again. “Ha! Foolish bird, what a joke! The tigers and bears will never fight again, not with our Venama.” Other corra birds in the council cawed and laughed with her.

Narraco flutter-jumped up into the council. Several birds crowed in protest. Narraco landed in front of Aranember and stepped right up to her. “I’m serious.”

Aranember stopped cawing. She looked deep into his eyes and said, “The Venama promised us no more fighting would come from the tigers and bears. The Venama does not break promises and has full control of its affairs. This is impossible.”

Narraco rose his voice above the persistent snickering. “Whatever this is, the Venama has no control over it. The tigers and the bears are fighting.”

Aranember tossed her head. Her voice was icy. “The Venama swore an oath to me and I know it will never break its vow.”

The loyalty in her voice disgusted Narraco. “Father,” he implored, swinging around. “You must believe me. Rameon.” Both birds, shoulders slowly losing laughter’s shake, glanced away. Narraco shrieked and flew up to a higher branch where he could look down on all of the council. “I am not lying,” he said. “The tigers and the bears are fighting. I can prove it to you; I will show you.”

Storrian looked up nervously to his son. “And what will come of it, anyway? It doesn’t concern us, even if it is true.”

“No, it would concern us,” Rameon murmured. “The last time…” Rameon trailed off, glancing timidly at Aranember. Storrian looked to Aranember as well.

“The last time the tigers and bears were at war,” Aranember said bitingly, “the corra birds were captured by the tigers and used as food and slaves.”

A surprising number of the birds below were visibly startled by this news. Narraco was especially horrified that his own father didn’t know. “How could you not know this?” he hissed quietly.

 

[1. Luftballon]

main.tex, main.tex, main.tex, main.tex, main.tex, main.tex, main.tex.

(they're in different directories, though.)

 

[Valerunner]

Untitled.odt

Seriously, I haven't thought of a title yet and I've already gone through the first gunfight.

 

[Teh Ebil Snorlax]

The Fallen Prince.rtf

Only current prose in progress.

Grimdour! Enchant us with something from your Untitled masterpiece!

 

[Arylett Charnoa]

The only work in progress I have that isn't an RP is Arkra Flare.rtf. My NaNoWriMo. I'm currently going under heavy revision of it and fixing past segments before I continue onwards. Here's your excerpt of a part I changed more majorly (WARNING. It makes NO sense. Even within context):

"If you lock me in here, I'll struggle. I'll make one hell of a mess and you'll feel it, all right. Me and Trinity Flame, we're going to break your barrier. Your magic won't last long. I'll be free before I know it... and then everyone will hate us. Just like you deserve... you filthy beast." The malice in her voice rang clear as always, yet had a tinge of melancholy within it. It seemed the shadowed girl too was saddened. The sad creature knew how she was feeling.

"I know that too. I'm not as stupid as I look, as they all think. I know what'll happen in the future. And that one day, my barrier will break. My powers are weak... but I'll keep trying. No matter what. I'll never give up hope."

As she started to walk back down the aisle, she could hear the shadowed other's cynical scoffs behind her. She sighed once more. Maybe she liked this place... maybe she hated it. She didn't know. But she knew she'd miss this room and didn't want this to be the last time she saw it.

But it was for the best...

The creature briefly brushed the arm of the shadowed girl, and in that moment, her form fizzled out. She lost the tail, the snout, and the tendrils and claws, and became simply a sad girl once more. No longer was she the creature. Her voice could only allow a helpless exhalation of breath, which replaced foreboding in prickling at her heart.

They were both silent. The shadowed girl motionlessly watched her exit. When she reached the door, she took one last glance at the girl of Darkness, and then her eyes drank the entirety of the room. Everything was blackening, resembling the place of lifeless trees... the shadowed girl had forced her mouth into an expression that would resemble smiling, yet be as far from a smile as anyone ever could describe. An expression that was devoid of the warmth that defined a smile. The sad girl ignored this and opened the door.

She arrived back at the flower field and shut the door behind her. As she prepared herself for her deed... she heard a voice that replicated a smile devoid of warmth.

"You'll never win and you know it... you'll never win alone."

In silence, she concentrated her thoughts deeply on the door. It sparked with a rubious light. Wisps of Darkness teemed from its hinges and the other doors near it began to respond. They shivered vehemently and projected their wisps into the malevolent sky. Its creatures were not pleased and began to attack one another. The chaos had been unleashed, and the land was angry. She knew this. This was why she needed to hurry.

The sad one fumbled her fingers as sparks of anxious light glimmered and then fizzled out, much as her previous form did. No... she had to. There was no time for being tired! Come on, magic, come on... she would will all of the energy flowing within her body to this task. The lights ignited brightly into existence again. Her world had begun its collapse, and the ground beneath her feet quaked in its venomous fury. Almost there...

She put her fingers together and saw that the wisps behind the door were multiplying, mating together into petite bursts of black energy. The shadowed girl screamed and the land rumbled in agreement. Helplessness was joined by sweat and fear, the latter of which had a chokehold over her entire upper body. Her hands were teeming with hot liquid as she clasped them together in prayer. The energy between them slowly solidified... she could feel something forming, something tangible.

Hungry bursts of Darkness were licking her face, as she shivered. So much sweat... so hot... it felt like melting. But she couldn't escape. It was, it was almost...

There!

The energy within her hands imploded powerfully. Weakly, she separated her palms and saw a small key sitting in one of them. Those greedy bursts took shape, into wide tendrils, which were creeping up her arms. She desperately outstretched her arm with the last of her energy... and managed to lightly touch the very surface of the red door.

Brilliantly, the energy came forth and washed over it. The Darkness cringed erratically and released her... and her body fell to its knees. The sad one pressed her head against the door as the tears flowed freely. She unleashed the colours and allowed them to guide her hand to the keyhole. Blackened wisps would also sob mournfully in their agonizing death. The sad one didn't look up, and only allowed the colours to guide her hand to the other doors.

Just as she touched the black one, an intense force rammed into her and her body went flying at high speeds.

The force had ejected her from the land.

She felt the softness of her bed beneath her, the only one who would welcome her with open and warm arms. But she didn't take its offer. Her body would shiver and stay in the cold, and she would wipe her tears away.

Never again.

 

[Valerunner]

It's a Mass Effect/Doctor Who crossover, done as an episode. Also, critique my style.

“Mordin, disable the judoon, no casualties. Grunt, storm the batarians out of their holes while I provide sniper cover.” The two nodded, and in an instant, the judoon commando clutched their heads in agony, their guttural cries put a smile on both Mordin's and Grunt's faces as the latter blew a hole through a batarian who dared charge a krogan with a shotgun. Black blood spattered on the young krogan's face as Shepard tore through another's head with a sniper rifle, not even inciting a flinch as he stared right into another one, his rifle shaking, barrel pointed at the berserker's chestplate. Grunt relished the feeling of someone's chest cavity crumbling on your shoulder as he tackled the fugitive, coughing his innards on the mighty krogan's armour.

“Hold your fire!” A gravelly roar came from the small army, and one stepped forward as Shepard and his team walked towards them. The judoon stood at least a foot taller than the human commander, and showed it.

“You interfered with our mission. State your identity.” The judoon barked at Shepard, his spit rained down on the commander's head.

“Shouldn't I ask you that first? You destroyed a good chunk of this ward and nearly gunned down C-Sec in the Citadel.” Shepard barked back, staring right into the alien's predatory eyes.

“Overseer Koslov of the Judoon Anti-Threat Force, commissioned by the Shadow Proclamation. State your identity or you will be shot down.” Weapons clicked from both sides.

“Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy and my friend here just tore through your heads a few seconds ago. You sure you want a fight?” The commander gestured towards Dr. Solus.

“Stand down!” Koslov growled through gritted teeth as he raised his fist. The commando holstered their weapons, Shepard prompting Grunt and Mordin the same. The overseer then stood back, struggling to hide his rage.

“What are you and the batarians doing here?”

“Batarians guilty of sapient trafficking in Shadow Proclamation territory. Fifteen attacks on seven colonies within the last month. Commissioned the ATF to apprehend the suspects. Our orders are to eliminate any and all suspects. You are interfering with our mission, human.”

“The Citadel isn't your jurisdiction, nor the Proclamation's. You don't even have clearance to breathe the air here.”

Koslov snapped.

“I will not have some human tell me what to do!” The overseer charged at him, rage filling his eyes. In the space of a few seconds, he tasted Citadel steel as Grunt pinned him violently on the floor, his pistol lodged forcefully into the judoon's mouth, the sound of broken teeth music to his ears. The squad immediately raised their weapons, aimed right between Grunt's eyes.

Time stood still. Grunt stared into the overseer's eyes, seeing the fear in his eyes. Good. The judoon squad, breathing in unison, their weapons loaded and ready to blast the krogan berserker into oblivion should anything happen. Shepard and Mordin stood motionless, their fingers hovering over the trigger, twitching to fire.

Stuck on the Doctor bit now. Didn't think this through well enough.