Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball (rokeon) wrote,
Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball
rokeon

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I can almost taste the summer sun

One final to go. So rather than studying, or doing constructive things, I meme.


The Fic Titles Meme

Pick five, or ten, or more, of your fic titles. List them in your journal and explain how you came up with each one. Post this prompt as well, so that the meme spreads.

The Belonging Kind (OUATiM/Sandman, R) is the title of an extremely strange story by William Gibson about a near-human species that survives by blending in perfectly with its habitat: bars and nightclubs. It's a story about Sheldon Sands having sex and a conversation (simultaneously) with the Corinthian- weird works.

Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes (PotC, PG) is from The Waste Land by TS Eliot, though I think Eliot lifted it from The Tempest. The story's about loss and introspection and memory all mixed together in a dream, and I got the idea when I was rereading the poem. It felt right.

What I've Tasted of Desire (From Hell, PG) comes from Fire and Ice, by Robert Frost. It's a poem about the best ways for the world to end- it seemed appropriate for a man gradually killing himself with his addictions, especially since they're both so closely dependant on flames.

The Ultimate Self-Made Man (Weiss Kreuz, PG) is a twist on a line I've heard a million times, the 'original' self-made man. Schuldig's certainly not the first to shape his own development, but merging seventeen individual personalities into a single identity should be enough to earn him some kind of gold star.

Until The Depths Give Up Their Dead (WaT, PG) is a line from Hemmorhage (In My Hands), by Fuel. Martin probably heard it on the radio recently, but what he's really trying to remember is the sea shall give up her dead, which is a line from the traditional prayer said during a burial at sea.



The WIP Meme

Untitled WaT pre-slash

Danny: Look, I have a leather jacket!
Martin: *brain shuts down*
Me: Dammit, I'm losing language skills just trying to write you.
Martin: *drools apologetically*

Defense Mechanisms: 1000whispers CSI fic

This will be finished if it's the last thing I do.

Nick: I'm having trouble coping with the whole Nigel Crane post-Stalker thing.
Me: Will you just have a breakdown already? Or something traumatic? Because I really need to finish this.
Nick: *angsts*

Untitled From Hell... thing

Me: Uh, why are you in my head?
Abberline: You wrote me.
Me: Yes, but I finished that. More or less. Why are you still here?
Abberline: Haven't a clue. *looks around* I don't suppose you have any laudanum?
Me: None I can spare.

Runner's High

An attempt to write something for the multiple people who included some variation of rushed/frantic/up-against-the-wall/semi-public sex in their kinks list at five_acts. Not sure if it'll ever be finished.

Danny: *still catching breath* High speed chases are supposed to be in cars. Not on foot.
Martin: You're just jealous because I'm a better runner than you.
Danny: I'm not jealous, I'm making an observation. We could have caught him in like ten seconds if we'd had a car.
Martin: Yes, but then I wouldn't have this nice endorphin/adrenaline buzz. And you wouldn't look all flushed and rumpled.
Danny: ... point.
Martin: *pounces*

Untitled X-Files bunny

This will never be written, but I can't make it go away.

Multiple Alex Krycek clones: Hello!
Me: ... the hell??
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