Name three fics you think I will never, ever, ever write. In return (and if inspired), I will attempt to write a snippet of one of them.
Got anything for me? Plz, comment below! I've written several already. :0
In other news, I'm still working through the 37+ stories from the last round of the Prison Break Fic Exchange. I've been stuck for ages near the beginning on A Slice Of Respect, and the problem is that I like it too much. I love the tone, the dry humor, the angle on it, the Sara characterization. It's the kind of story that makes me go nuts in the comments, and that's what's holding me back-- there's TOO much to say, and I never finish it! I think I just need to get over myself and post a short squee over it and move on. :(
Tonight's Lost: will I be writing fic or not? Last week I'd planned to, but then the Sawyer story turned into a Locke story, and I wound up watching it for real! D'OH! I find Sawyer hot (this is another hormone vs. brain problem again-- the brain is not interested in blondes. Or bad boys.) but his story bores me. I perk up for Locke,
UPDATE! Some story snippets below the cuts:
Prison Break/Bollywood Crossover for thelana: Unchain My Heart
The sun shines through a barred-up window, highlighting the pretty features of Michael Scofield, as he enters his new cell. His arms are laden with bedding and a prison-issue change of clothes, and his muscular cellmate steps forward and begins to sing:
"Never thought I'd find true love inside an iron cage. Got you where I want you now no need to be afraid…"Scofield joins in for the duet,
"It isn't, shouldn't be like this-- it's much too soon to know. But somehow I am drawn to you, the way your dark eyes glow…"
The duet ends with shy glances and half-hidden smiles, and the camera pans out through the bars of the cell and over the edge of the upper row to the floor below. There, T-Bag and Abruzzi stand in the center of the floor, facing off and holding pieced-together shivs. They turn and shimmy, turn and shimmy, as music builds up in the background.
Cue: Group A inmates in uniform, Group B inmates with bedsheets for large opening production number:
Shank-a locka, shank-a locka, ooh, I want to cut ya. Shank-a locka, shank-a locka, in this prison town…"Group A inmates move at the edges of the square around Abruzzi and T-Bag, doing sashay-sashay-pull-spin, sashay-sashay-pull-spin with the sheets in time to the music. Group B inmates move in opposite direction inside the inner square, doing sidekick-left, sidekick-right, hop, hop, spin in repetition. Music continues to the bridge, where prison guards move in from each of the four corners to the center, beating T-Bag and Abruzzi with cudgels on the off-beats. -------- ///
Jared/Jensen/Christian Kane for lissa_bear: The Sum Of All Bad Ideas (NC-17)
It's not like he and Jared have a thing going. Everybody thinks they do, but everybody's wrong—they're just friends. Good friends, sure, and they like each other a lot but that's it. Just. Friends.
The part where he's all clinging onto Jared in public doesn't mean a thing. Jensen's got this problem with crowds and public appearances, and Jared's really sturdy and damn if he doesn't love to talk. So if, God forbid, Jensen should clam up suddenly, well—the silence won't last long. Like, at all.
So this is how he and Jared and Chris wind up drinking in Jensen's apartment one Saturday afternoon, and things get totally out of hand. First, Jensen's laughing at some stupid joke and leaning into Chris a little too much. Then Chris kisses him on the nose and then the mouth, and just stays there way too long.
When Jensen freezes, Chris strokes lazily down around his backside and says, "I haven't fucked this ass since last summer, and damn if I haven't missed it."
Jensen's too dumbfounded to lie his way through that one, and all he can manage is, "Jesus, Jared's sitting right here!"
"Jared don't mind, now do you son? Or you can join right in," and Chris' mouth eats up Jensen's protests.
"Yeah." Jared's voice is breathless to Jensen's ears.
"Now I know you've got that lube around here somewhere, boy. Time to use it," Chris mutters against Jensen's lips.
"I'll go track it down-- you two start without me," and then Jared's gone.
Before long, Chris has Jensen bent over the arm of the sofa, thrusting in nice and slow. Jared slides down the seat cushions and lies there in front of Jensen, legs spread and just waiting for Jensen to take control.
It's like he can't say No, like he's lost all sense completely the way his mind's buzzing and his ass is tingling and Jared's all flushed and leaking and watching him with hopeful eyes. So Jensen gives in to all that temptation, with lips and tongue and spit-slick fingers.
Then the world is sex and sweat and semen in a Southern Comfort haze where all the sounds are C'mon now, boy and Yes. ----------///
Mahone/Michael for deadbeat_nymph: Common Paths (PG-13)
It's funny that after so much chasing and battling of wits-- so much animosity-- they would wind up together. More alike than different, they finally finished on the same side. Now they spent their time exploring each other both mind and body…
"I want you to tell me what each of these tattoos mean."
Michael smiled. "You already know what they mean—you decoded half of them. Streets intersecting the prison, phone numbers, New Mexico coordinates…"
"What about the angel and the devil? Symbolism? These mountains—what do they represent?"
"Those are pathways through the prison—blueprints. The wall behind my cell starts here, see? And then it goes across and runs down and… Alex. I can't think anymore when you're doing that with your tongue."
"Just following along behind you."
"Oh. Okay. So, the tunnel to the, uh, Warden's Office finishes here. There's also this secondary connection to the… Alex, why'd you stop?"
"I can't think when I'm listening to your voice. It's incredible—God."
"Then just for now, you follow along while I trace the routes with my finger."
"Scofield, you've got a deal." -------- ///
Sara/Nika role-switching femmeslash for mercurybard: After Hours (PG-13)
There's no pillar or pole in Sara's apartment, so she uses the doorway instead.
Sliding down slowly, angling sideways to catch Nika's eye, she rises up again and arches her back. Her hair spills out in an arc as she swings her head side-to-side, all sultry seduction.
"You realize I'll have to examine your spine," Nika purrs.
"I don't have insurance..." Sara slips her blouse off her shoulders, easing it down and letting it slip to the floor.
Nika holds a bill out, folded and ready and twirls the end of her stethoscope. "We'll take it out in trade." ---------///
T-Bag having Godzilla's Baby for mercurybard: Certain Obligations (PG)
~~ NOTE: If you're wondering what the heck this is about, it would be a sequel to this CrackFic story.~~
"What's this, now?"
"That's very kind of you, but I couldn't possibly. It's much too big to eat. You go on ahead."
"Oh, I see—this is yours. Well. Funny, I always took you for a boy-lizard, but appearances can be deceiving, I guess. "
"Do what now? Really, I don't believe that'll help—it's the size of a house. And besides, I might fall off."
"Oh all right, though I feel awfully silly-- can't keep anything warm doing this."
"You're welcome, I suppose. If the folks back home could only see me now, stuck here trying to hug a giant egg…" --------///