masterofmidgets: (excuses excuses)
[personal profile] masterofmidgets
A couple snippets of fic I wrote on Tuesday for my NaNo Class. I make no apologies for these.

First: the one that was an exercise in impromptu genre-hopping. Theoretically it starts off as scifi, goes to Shakespeare, instruction manual, romance novel, and horror, and ends in YA chicklit. In practice...Also, I have no idea how I was ever going to end this.


“Zack, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Cloud asked hesitantly.

Zack rubbed the butt of his brand-new, ShinRa guaranteed laser pistol in what was a not altogether reassuring way.

“Of course I’m sure, kid!” He exclaimed. “You act like I’ve never piloted a ship before.”

“But you haven’t!”

“Oh. Well, it can’t be /that/ hard. I’ll pick it up as we go along, no problem.”

“And the squad of TURK fighters that will be on our tail trying to shoot us out of space?” Cloud’s blue eyes were, if possible, even larger than before in terror.

“Yeeeeah…that could be trouble. But once we get out of atmosphere, we can go into hyperdrive, and they won’t have a chance to catch up before we make it to the AVALANCHE base on Lidos 4. I know it’s a long shot, but you believe in me, right kiddo?”

He leaned close, ruffling a hand through Cloud’s hair before checking to make sure his straps were fastened tight across his chest.

“And lo, what shall I do now, with this callow youth before me, watching me with faith, not fear, in his eyes? Though I would be a coward, though I would turn and run, rather than face this fight and my most certain death, I find that I cannot. What is this feeling, that binds my hands fast where they are, that dost not let my feet lead me away? It is not honor, for I have none, is not pride, for I have none, all left behind me long ago. Can’st it be love?”

How To Pilot A Stolen ShinRa Ship For Dummies

  1. Don’t, you idiot. What do think ShinRa has the Turks for? (This manual assumes you prefer your organs inside your body).
  2. Did the pilot leave the keys in the ignition? If so, turn left and start ship. If not, see 3.
  3. Open the engine panel. There should be a red wire, a blue wire, and a yellow wire visible on the far right hand side. Touch the yellow wire to the blue wire and wrap the red wire around them. Engine should now start.
  4. Fasten restraints and pull throttle.

“That was incredible, Zack! I thought you were going to crash and kill us both, but you shot all those fighters out of the sky and saved us! You’re my hero!” Cloud said, leaping into Zack’s arms.

“Damn straight,” said Zack, staggering slightly under an armful of heavy cadet. “And you had the nerve to doubt me. I think you owe me for that.”

Cloud shifted in Zack’s arms until he could press his lips against the shell of Zack’s ear. “You know,” he whispered, breath ghosting hot across Zack’s skin and making him shiver with desire, “we have two whole weeks before he get to Lidos. That’s a /lot/ of making up.”

“What the hell!” Zack shouted, flinging up his arms and, in the process, sending Cloud sprawling across the deck.

“Well if you’re not interested, you could have just said,” Cloud moaned.

“No, not that!” Zack said. “There’s something back there, didn’t you see it?”

“All I saw was you!” Cloud said.

“I only got a glimpse of it in the shadows before it slunk off. But it looked like it had wings – big black leathery wings, and claws, and fangs. We have to find it before it eats us!”

Cloud’s voice quavered as he said, “Eats us? You didn’t tell me this ship had monsters on it!”

Zack led the way into the dark of the ship’s hold, raising his sword high so they could see by the glow cast by his Light materia. Cloud was close behind him, almost stepping on his feet, and clinging to his hand with a death grip. As the commanding officer, he probably should have been telling Cloud to buck up and act like a soldier; as Cloud’s boyfriend, and more than a little afraid himself, he was glad he could be of comfort.



The second one was a similar exercise, but instead of genre-hopping, it was music hopping - the instructor put on her playlist on shuffle, and we had to change style/scene to fit the currently playing music. I don't know what it says about her playlist that I ended up with ninja!Rodney and harem!John, but I did. I don't know how this ends, either, but it's probably in sex.




Rodney McKay wiped the sweat from his eyes and the dirt from his hair, and then dropped back to his hands and knees. The passage narrowed up ahead, he could see, and it would likely be a tight fit; he could already feel the walls scraping his shoulders raw and his back screaming in pain as he tried to crouch low enough to clear the roof. But this small ventilation duct was the only possible way to rescue Sheppard from the Sultan of P3X-908, so was going to do it anyway.
                                                           
                                                     ********

In the Sultan’s chamber, John leaned back on the heavily embroidered silk cushions, making the chain around his neck clank and the woman painting patterns in ink on his chest glare at him.

John sighed. “Fine, I promise I won’t move again,” he said, and prayed Rodney found him soon.

                                                      ********

Ninjas? That was so typical of this galaxy, Rodney swore. What kind of Sultan had ninjas? Didn’t he realize he was doing it /wrong/. So now, in addition to creeping through a painfully tight passage on his knees, thank you, he had to do it silently enough that the team of ninjas in the room below him didn’t hear him and impale him horribly with their weapons. God, he was going to /die/.

                                                   *********

There were upsides to this being a sex slave for the Sultan thing, John had to admit. For one thing, he apparently got to go to the parties, even if he was on a leash. And the Sultan expected him to dance, which should have been awful, except a) their big holy festival music sounded a lot like a pop-Salsa mix, b) the Sultan had to dance with him, and c) the Sultan was /hot/. Swaying, swinging his hips, grinding up against him hot. John could work hot.

He hoped Rodney didn’t find him /too/ soon.

                                              *********

Rodney stood in the empty room and considered crying. Or possibly throwing something against the wall. Or going back to Atlantis and reverse-engineering a giant fucking bomb that would blow up the good people of p3X and make damn sure all their kids came out with three heads for the next four generations at least.

He’d crawled through air ducts, snuck past ninjas, and probably done permanent damage to his back, and John wasn’t even /here/.

                                            ********

The dancing ended after a little while, and then the feasting started. And sure, John had to sit on the floor next to the Sultan and eat bits of food out of his hand, but it was damn good food, something that tasted a bit like lamb but pale blue and with the texture of spongy bread, about average for the Pegasus Galaxy of “you expect me to eat what?” but with the creamy sauce it was fantastic. So yeah, John had done worse with guys who were holding him captive.

And then the Sultan was tugging gently on his chain, and leading him back toward the middle of the room, where the giant pile of cushions were, and oh yeah. That was why he wanted Rodney to save him right fucking now. Before the Sultan put the /sex/ back in sex slave.

                                          ********

Rodney couldn’t believe himself. A servant had come into the room, and before he could say a word, Rodney had had his gun (how often did he even remember he had a gun, honestly) pressed against his temple, demanding to know where the Sultan was. The guy had stammered out an answer, complete with pointed directions, and Rodney had left him tied up on the floor and taken off running. Either everyone else was wherever the Sultan was, or Rodney looked sufficiently crazy to ward off anyone with any sense of self-preservation, because no one had stopped him.


*snickers*

Date: 2008-10-06 01:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] telyanofcelore.livejournal.com
And, you know, for good measure *snickers again*.

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