winter | Writing frustration

Current Mood: frustrated
Current Music: Tanz der Vampire - Totale Finsternis

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Writing frustration

I totally should post something Star Wars related, except for the fact that I didn't realise posting my info in

imadra_blue's friending meme would lead to people actually friending me. So. Um. Probably not the right moment to mention the fact I haven't touched Star Wars with a ten foot pole in a long while.

Anyway, spent today trying to fic and failing. Current working-on-them-right-now list, just to motivate me tomorrow at work, because apparently I'm unable to write at home; at this rate I'll be able to write something I want to write around... hm, July?

- 3 Tanz der Vampire stories (trials of a vampire father, very twisted Dracula/Krolock and Herbertfic). All for

fyrie *expletive deleted*

- Vlad and Gabriel by the fire, for

ariss_tenoh, with sincere apologies for the delay

- Coldfire: Family Ties, possible vignettes, for Gerald Tarrant. Peskiest muse ever

- next set of Dooku drabbles for the

1character prompts, and the Dooku-and-Obi-Wan fic, for

imadra_blue

- miscellaneous Dooku and non-Dooku fic for the SW people on the f-list because I'm feeling guilty

Oh, and on top of everything else I may be able to combine my obligations towards

fyrie, the Coldfire people and the Star Wars people in one fic. But I've a feeling it might get me a wee bit flamed =^.^=

In other news, GIP. *purrs*

EDIT: *headdesk* Completely forgot.

fyrie did it again. The next installment of her Buffy/Tanz crossover killed me even deader. Even if you don't know anything about Buffy or Tanz, if you have the slightest fondness for dominant vampires, for Lucifer's sake read this story.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm sure either of the vamps would love someone this sure he could handle the situation ;)

I'd love to see you write Herbert breaking somebody. I'm sure he can do it as thoroughly as dad, but his style would be... very different, probably.

Legolas is practically dancing here. He loves being dominated properly, but it happens so rarely. He is the most kinked, wicked and thoroughly naught of my non-vampires :D

*ponders* Herbert says just give him a target ;)

Muahaha :D

I think I'll save Herbert/Legolas as my demand for you when you've bunnied me particularly heavily :>

*grins* You mean you're expecting me to give you more? MUAHAHAH!

I think I might start a ledger here :>

(Speaking of giving?)

Just had to change machines *roots about* tweaked some of the Dawn/VK scene:

His dark eyes gazed solemnly at her. “You should not be forced to live their lies,” he said quietly. “Your life is your own.”

“They don’t think so,” Dawn’s voice was tense, shaking. “I heard them yelling at each other outside my door. They still think I’m the same little girl I was, back in Sunnydale. They still think I can’t hear what they’re saying when I’m right there. They think I don’t care enough to listen.”

Von Krolock nodded, his hands folded before him. “Then to be kind, you must be cruel,” he said softly. “If you cannot break free with gentleness and prove yourself to them, then you must show them that you are strong enough to stand alone.”

“What am I meant to do?” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Refuse to go back with them and stay here, just because it would prove a point? How could I tell Buffy that I feel more at home here than in a nice, normal apartment at a nice, normal school with a nice normal group of friends?”

“Is that what you feel?”

(not much I know, but I've just started the dining room scene - VK's demanded it from his POV. GYAH!)

(I'm sure it's just because he wants to be able to complain in his head without being undignified by kvetching out loud)

The attic room was bare and worn, but clean. The light of the single candle flickered on the crumpled sheets on the bed, on the pale gold hair arranged, funeral-like, over the shoulder of the still figure tangled in the bedcovers.

The air smelled of decay.

If Von Krolock’s heart had beat, it would have skipped and stuttered at that moment. He moved his hand blindly to close the door behind him, and the wooden planks struck the doorframe with a dull thud, like a coffin lid falling shut.

“Frau Kinga?” The voice was the one he knew, but so weak and strained, almost silenced. “I told you I’d be all right – the candle’s still-“

“Herbert,” von Krolock murmured, unable to stop himself from audibly reassuring the boy’s identity.

A jerk, a sigh that was almost a cry, grey eyes falling open, and for once he blessed his unnatural speed as a second later, he was gently cradling his son.

“Father.” Herbert’s voice was breaking even more, now. “I thought you’d come.”

You know, there's nothing quite as undignified as dissolving into wibbley tears in a computer room! *sobs a bit*

*makes a notch on the keyboard*

My VK's so bloody young here. None of the later restraint.

Plus, having your own flesh and blood dying on you... gah! *wibbles s'more*

Also, had a random thought for a later scene, when Dawn goes off to do her immortalising 'thing': VK's got a kind of marker charm on her, so he knows she's safe, but when she undergoes whatever change it is that makes her immortal, she's changed in ways beyond his magic and the connection is severed, so um... yeah. He presumes she's toast.

It certainly appeared civil.

Alas that such tranquil surfaces so often belied that which lay beneath.

Seated at the head of the grand oak table in the dining room, von Krolock’s eyes were half-closed as he surveyed his guests. To his right, Dawn Summers was seated and to his left, Vittorio, the Immortal. The younger Miss Summers and William were flanking Herbert, who was looking across the table at the elder Miss Summers.

The last guest was the young witch, who was currently extolling the wonder of his library, something which – under any other circumstance – would have been a source of delightful indulgence, her giddiness amusing.

However, faced by the emotional barrage of six overwrought beings, his head felt as it had when Herbert had snared a drummer boy from the Imperial army nearly two centuries earlier. He had though the throbbing in his temples would never cease.

His chin cupped in one hand, he watched the conversation, involving himself as little as possible, words passed from one to the other like unwanted scrap and handed on as quickly as possible.

“So… uh… Spike…”

Looking up from the breadstick he had been using, to trace patterns in his blood, the youngest of the vampires looked startled. “Red?”

The witch beamed at him. “So… you’re alive, huh?”

“Tell me something,” Herbert’s voice bluntly interrupted what reply William might have made, his grey eyes fixed on the Slayer. “Can you begin to imagine why your… lover chooses to call my father ‘excellency’?”

Looking from Herbert to the quietly-chuckling Vittorio, the Slayer looked vaguely bemused. “I guess because it’s his title?” she said.

“Oh, I suppose that may be part of it,” Herbert made a grand gesture with one hand. “Admittedly, I can hardly speak for my father’s manner, but I’m sure it covers much, much more.”

“Herbert.” Von Krolock sighed.

“No, Eccellenza,” Vittorio raised his hand mildly. “Your son is right.”

The unfortunate William had chosen a terrible moment to sip some of the wine, spluttering rudely and hastily covering his mouth with one hand.

Ignoring William’s hasty attempt to mop up the patina of wine he had spattered across the table, von Krolock’s lips twitched slightly. “It is generous of you to say so, Vittorio,” he murmured.

Vittorio bowed his head elegantly. “I speak only the truth,” he murmured and to one who knew him so well, the lingering affection from their brief and passionate affair laced every word. “Linguist, poet, sorcerer, alchemy… was there any field you did not excel in, mio signore?”

“I have had some time to practise,” von Krolock murmured, unable to deny that there, among many reasons, had he been drawn to the handsome immortal. For someone to turn Herbert’s words against him was skill indeed.

Resuming his petulant pouting, Herbert folded his arms over his chest.

Oooh, such a pity VK didn't turn to see Buffy's face :D

So far, nothing seems to be going terribly bad, I think?

Herbert's wanting to be insanely rude and dad's sitting going "give me strength!". Transpires, Herbert was totally smitten with Vittorio and pined for him for a good while and now, this annoying little bimbo has him wrapped around her little finger.

Awww, poor Herbie :D Centuries of pent-up feelings, and to be this disappointed...

I find myself thinking that all the women at that table are now mentally going "vampires are weird, check".

Dawn's wanting to hide under the table, while Buffy's realised Herbert's jealous and is abusing that fact something chronic.

While poor Spike probably doesn't know where to put his head :> On one hand, old feelings for Buffy, on the other, vampire solidarity, on the third the old urge to cause just a teensy bit of mayhem...

Though he's probably mostly looking at VK and trembling at this point.

Spike's trying to keep Herbert in check, but Herbert's having none and Buffy's not ready to leave them calm. She kinda wants to see them lose their tempers and go feral so she has reason to nick Dawn. Which I just realised as I started typing this...

See, that's why bouncing ideas is good :>

Though VK going feral would take both a bit more provocation, and leave much more damage than Buffy suspects...

“Um…” The witch seemed to see a place for her to slip back into the conversation, now that Herbert had been silenced. “Actually, there was something I was kinda wondering about, sir…”

Unfurling his fingers in a gesture to speak, von Krolock gazed at her. She had power, of that there was no doubt, but there was such fearful restraint, a shadow overlying her, a stain that cut deep into her soul.

“You have every book ever, right?” She looked so earnest and eager that he suppressed a slight smile. “I mean, I looked up some of the more obscure codexes that… well, you know you hear of them, but you don’t know if they exist because demons aren’t exactly good with the keeping-of-records and you kinda have them all here and I was… I mean, would you mind a whole lot if we could refer to you?”

“I see no reason why not,” he murmured. He could see Herbert shifting from the corner of his eye, could sense an impending outburst, and directed his gaze fully at his son, who was glaring across the table. “Herbert.”

Grey eyes darted towards him then back to the Immortal, who had lifted his lover’s hand to his lips and was kissing her fingertips. Ah, his one desire that he had never succeeded in attaining or even intriguing. Alas, that his son could not understand that Vittorio’s interest lay in only women.

And one exception.

“I was merely wondering if that was the Slayer’s natural hair colour,” Herbert’s expression was bland, but his eyes were flashing. Beside him, Dawn groaned and sank down in her chair.

“Could ask you the same, goldielocks,” the Slayer said with mock-sweetness, not even looking at him. She leaned closer and kissed Vittorio lightly and, von Krolock sensed, deliberately.

Herbert scowled, nails scratching against the surface of the table.

On his other side, William leaned closer and touched his arm, but was shrugged off with a glare. “Herbie, mate, she’s not worth the fuss…”

“Not what you used to say,” Buffy finally turned away from Vittorio and looked across the table at him.

Closing his eyes wearily, von Krolock tried to stave off the sudden flare of ire from the second vampire. Pushing his chair back, he rose from the table with such smooth swiftness that all eyes leapt to him.

Unspeaking, he crossed the floor to the fireplace, staring down at the flames.

It would not do to turn his ire upon his son now, not with the presence of his new guest so recently agreed upon. Still, his teeth ground together, his hands folded behind his back, the stifling silence from the table only adding to the building frustration.

A second chair scraped on the stone floor and he felt the approach of the younger Miss Summers.

And yet, he could not deny his shock when her small, warm hand reached out and touched his arm in a wordless gesture that was still full of meaning. Glancing down at her, he could see the concern on her face, the genuine worry, for him of all people.

“I know what’s going on,” she said softly, little more than a whisper then gave him a small smile that he was sure only he saw. “Lemme take care of it.”

Barely nodding, he felt her hand slide against his arm as she pulled away as if she had scorched him with flame.

Oh, totally didn't expect that. Go Dawnie :)

Also, very like VK to remove himself from the action when he can't retaliate directly.

From beneath his lashes, he watched her return to the table and sit down, as if nothing had happened, arranging a napkin across her lap, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip. All eyes had switched from him to her.

“Oh, Herbert,” she said suddenly, turning and looking at him.

With a beckoning gesture, she drew him closer. He looked baffled, as if expecting to hear some warning or other then uttered an indignant squawk when she caught his face between her hands and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

(and this is where he babbles something and grabs Spike and runs from the room to reassert his masculinity. Or something...)

So one of the keys to VK's heart is the ability to pwn Herber? XD

(Which makes sense, considering. Herbert's the one person VK's not dropping for anyone, ever, and unless they got along he'd just have to keep growling at both his lover and his son all the time.)

I'll try to have another dying!Herbert snippet ready before you're back.

*grins* If VK wasn't captivated by Dawn before, now he's thoroughly delighted that she's staying. Anyone who can make Herbert fall off their chair in shock is fabulous :D

Re: Alas, must flee to class, but last snipplet...

winter - 2006-03-20 07:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Alas, must flee to class, but last snipplet...

fyrie.livejournal.com - 2006-03-20 07:10 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Alas, must flee to class, but last snipplet...

winter - 2006-03-20 07:17 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Alas, must flee to class, but last snipplet...

fyrie.livejournal.com - 2006-03-20 07:18 (UTC) - Expand

Von Krolock pressed a kiss to his son’s hair. “I’m here.”

Herbert’s smile was as warm as always, his eyes as bright – maybe brighter – but the rest of his senses told von Krolock that the situation was by no means good. The smell was the worst of them, rot and decay like a body already disintegrating. Under his fingers, Herbert’s shoulders were frailer than they had been since he had discovered fencing at fifteen. Each breath the boy took was laboured, underlaid with a stifled gasp of pain.

“What happened to you?” The question had been needling on von Krolock’s mind since he had learned of his son’s injury. Herbert could be reckless with horses or affairs of the heart, but with a blade in his hand the boy had long surpassed him. Even fencers with centuries of experience found Herbert a skilled and unpredictable opponent, and von Krolock could not believe another student had beaten him so easily.

“When you’re fighting for someone’s honour-“ Herbert paused to draw a laboured breath, then winced as he shifted his legs to free them from the confines of the tangled sheets. “You don’t really expect him to stab you in the gut when he falls into your arms after you’ve sent the other guy’s sword sailing into the air.”

The hiss came before von Krolock could clench his teeth, the monstrous and human parts of him for once in agreement about the fate of someone who had hurt what was his.

“All false – start to end.” Herbert’s laugh was cut off by a pained moan. “Should know better. Yet such a pretty face.”

*wibbles* oh, poor Herbert! I hope he gets painful and bloody revenge! With lots of pain! (although, one thing I would change would be using 'guy' - seems a little out of place considering the setting)