![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Nonexistent fic meme
Stolen from far too many people on the f-list, which probably means I won't get comments...
If you make up titles for stories I didn't write, I will respond with details of those non-written stories. Just think of the possibilities! (If you'd like to include details you'd like, pairings or fandom or something, do that too.)
And hey, a twist to it: I'll actually write snippets of those nonexistent fics for you :>
If you make up titles for stories I didn't write, I will respond with details of those non-written stories. Just think of the possibilities! (If you'd like to include details you'd like, pairings or fandom or something, do that too.)
And hey, a twist to it: I'll actually write snippets of those nonexistent fics for you :>
no subject
AThe Mariachi In 10 Easy Steps? :DI hate you :P
Fideo knocked on the bathroom door. “Hurry up there!”
Lorenzo didn’t react. He was too busy rinsing his eyes out with water.
He decided to buy hypoallergenic mascara the next time.
2. Shared hobbies
The melodies of their guitars meshed together seamlessly. Carried by the moment, Lorenzo threw his head back and swayed to the music. Even if El didn’t look, there was no reason not to practice looking good-
When the grasping hands of the women in the club pulled him off the stage and down to the floor, Lorenzo didn’t have time to scream before two girls were kissing him at once. Above the crowd, El and Fideo played on.
3. Understanding and sympathy
It was the anniversary of Carolina’s death, and Lorenzo was lending a friendly ear.
“She would walk around in her underwear in the morning,” El slurred. “With wet hair dripping water on the cotton. When she carried the baby, she looked like a Madonna, and I would cross myself when I saw her...”
Lorenzo made sure he didn’t make too much noise as he beat his head against a wall.
4. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
The flames were three metres tall. The shack’s timbers creaked in a way that foretold imminent collapse. The smoke smelled of kerosene and, curiously, burnt beans.
Fideo didn’t ask. He just passed Lorenzo the bottle.
5. A romantic night on the town
It was perfectly planned. The French musical had songs they could encorporate into their own repertoire, the bar they retired to served good tequila, and there were rooms to be rented upstairs. And the only females around were two foreign girls who had also been to the show; they even bought Lorenzo a drink and gossiped on how attractive El looked in evening wear. They both had disconcertingly evil smiles, but he supposed they couldn’t help it.
He was still wondering whether the one with the amazing cleavage or the tall Slavic redhead looked more evil by the time the Rohypnol hit him.
6. Dress to impress
The seamstress looked at the sad scraps of leather on the table. “What happened?”
Lorenzo just shook his head. He wasn’t about to explain the firefight, mad getaway, the three sheep and a chicken, or the way El hadn’t noticed his new leather pants at all.
At least it had removed the problem of getting them off. He’d forgotten the baby powder that morning.
7. Get allies
Lorenzo stretched out languidly and looked guiltily at the man in bed with him. He had to admit the night had been one to remember. And with the amount of liquor they’d drunk before, it was even more impressive.
Too bad Fideo hadn’t had any advice on how to get El to notice him. But at least he was good at the cheering up part.
8. Dazzle him with your skill
White heat and a shimmer in the air, and joyful laughter catching in his throat. Lorenzo bared his teeth as he swung the flamethrower around. Another petrol tank exploded, and a quick jump took him out of the way of burning fragments of upholstery as the garage turned into an inferno. If this wasn’t impressive, he didn’t know what was.
El, however, noted that with all the drug dealers’ cars burned they would have to walk twenty miles on foot to the nearest town.
9. Guys never turn down strings-free sex
“What are you doing?”
“My bed’s got springs poking out all over the place. There’s room for two here... if we squeeze down.”
El snorted and got out of bed, perching on the window sill instead.
Lorenzo smothered his sobs with the pillow.
10. If he turns down all this, he must be asexual, period
Lorenzo groaned when he entered the bar. “What’s the crazy gringo doing here?”
Sands was even thinner and more dead-looking than when Lorenzo saw him last, and he was standing far too close to El for Lorenzo’s comfort. “Newsflash, boytoy: it’s more fun with me around.”
As El growled and pulled Sands close for a scorching kiss, Lorenzo saw red.
Re: I hate you :P
Poor Lori, though... he always does get the short endf of the stick.... *decides to stack up on the Rohy--- err, booze for cheering up purposes, yes indeed, the booze*
no subject
Damn you. Do you know this is like, my first OUATIM fic in six months?
no subject
which means it needs to be a threesomeeven for daydream purposes :POops, didn't know. But it'´s been a leettle buit ded in teh fandom lately so.... :P
*hugs*
no subject
no subject
Neither of them needed to breathe, but they still gasped as they broke through the surface of the water. Gabriel reached for the rope to pull himself up to the top of the cliff, but Vlad reached for him instead, and it felt more natural than breathing and paina nd prayer to kiss him, with hunger and heat and all the memories that bridged the chasm between them. Vlad’s fang cut a gash in Gabriel’s tongue, and the way Vlad mewled when he tasted the blood made Gabriel long to tear off their soaked clothing then and there.
They broke away, gasping once again. Vlad’s eyes shone blue with vampiric fire.
“Let’s get out of here, Gabriel,” he said. He looked down into the water, where slithering shadows still swirled. “I prefer your advances to those of the octopus.”
no subject
I feel compelled to defend the honor of the octopus, though. Sure, he's a bit grabby, but he'd always come to the door of the castle instead of sitting out in the carriage honking, and if he squirts out strange liquids without warning, probably it's to hide you from your enemies.
no subject
The Dark River
During the Clone Wars, Dooku takes Obi-Wan captive, attempting to seduce him to the dark side. The seduction becomes literal, and one has to wonder who is playing who.
*whistles innocently*
no subject
Dooku didn’t touch him.
His own hands pulled on the black fabric. The undertunic had adhesive patches inside the long sleeves that allowed them to be tucked in and fastened to regulate length. The trousers slid like warm water over his flesh, and he shuddered as he felt Dooku’s eyes follow the movement. There was a frayed thread on the collar of the overtunic, weak enough to be snapped by teeth.
He cut his fingers on the buckles of the boots, and the leather gleamed where his blood fell upon it. Pain gives strength, he remembered: Dooku. Through death we reach for eternity: Qui-Gon.
The viewport made a poor mirror, but the only other available would be Dooku’s dark eyes, and he was tired of looking for meaning in them. The black cloak stood between him and the world. In the depths of the hood, he felt his lips twist, the airconditioned atmosphere of the ship drying his teeth in an instant as they were bared. Through hate and anger to victory, he remembered.
Maul.
no subject
I really want you to write me this fic. It would be so awesome. And 99% of the time, I hate it when people write Obi-Wan on the edge, because most of them don't have a solid grasp on his character, but I'd totally read yours. :D
no subject
(Gods, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't placate the vampire with schmoop with his ex-priest OTP. That guy's absolutely possessive about my head and creative abilities...)
no subject
no subject
no subject
The Fan and the Mask
NokoruxAkira CCD XD;;
no subject
For a moment, they just stared after the dog, which was dragging Ayame-chan on the leash behind it as she posed in ballet poses on the rollerskates.
"Well, that's over with!" the Director announced cheerfully.
“I guess at least my cakes are safe!” 20 Masks agreed.
The Director blinked. “You bake?”
“Uh, no, not at all!” 20 Masks shook his head for emphasis. “I, uh, buy them! And I eat a lot of them, so I wanted them to be safe!”
“Right!” The Director laughed infectiously, waving around a fan with nothing but exclamation marks written on it.
In the shadows behind them, a palm hit a forehead, soundlessly.
no subject
*g*
Can be either as enemies, friends or...otherwise...
CCA
no subject
OMG why does everyone want lemons gahIf that wasn’t a pointless exercise in muse torture, I don’t know what was. Well, that and gratuituous descriptions of violence, of course. The tavern scene’s a common favourite – the one where they get their hands on the spy sent by the sorcerer who organised the thefts from their respective castle libraries.
The drawn-out death rattle was punctuated by Dracula’s frustrated snarl. The Wallachian vampire rose to his feet and gave the corpse a vicious kick.
“Then we’re back where we started,” von Krolock said.
“I didn’t see you lending a hand.” Dracula flexed his fingers as he unknotted the straps of freshly-flayed skin that he’d used to strangle the spy. “I should have made him eat his own flesh before I killed him.”
Von Krolock’s lips twitched in amusement. “How civilised.”
The skin straps broke with a wet tearing sound. Dracula’s eyes flashed blue with fury. With a hiss, he started forward, his hands curved into claws, reaching for von Krolock-
-who wasn’t there, in a swirl of a cloak and a shifting of shadows sudden and silent as the onset of a nightmare.
Dracula changed directions without pause, hitting a wooden support beam hard enough to make the roof tremble. He hissed, baring his lengthened teeth. On the other side of the beam, von Krolock hissed back, his face pale and drawn tight with a sudden flash of hunger.
For a moment, all was still.
Slowly, oh so slowly, Dracula’s fingers unclenched. The blood on them was still fresh.
It left uneven, dripping lines on von Krolock’s cheek.
“Show off your magic and your science all you want,” the Prince of Vampires whispered. “In the end, you’re still a monster. You’re still one of mine.”
no subject
I'm debating whether or not to be concerned about the fact that everything in this paragraph made me laugh uproariously.
“Show off your magic and your science all you want,” the Prince of Vampires whispered. “In the end, you’re still a monster. You’re still one of mine.”
Okay, that's hot.
no subject
*eyes the even more annoyed vampire warily*
no subject
CCA
no subject
no subject
"Affairs Appealing to an Evil Genius"