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felisblanco. I've done this one before, and well...I'm a cocktease. I can't help it. *ducks*
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
snippet from I Burn - I tried to avoid anything with spoilers, which didn't leave much, really:
“Angel always has liked em pretty, least that didn’t change when he switched teams.”
Will eyed Liam out of the corner of his eye. “You know about…?”
Lindsey snorted. “Please, look at this motherfucker. I don’t understand how anyone looks at him and doesn’t know that he’s gay. I mean, look at his shoes.”
Will looked down at the cowboy boots on Liam’s feet and then back to Lindsey. “They’re…boots.”
“Fancy city boots. Fucking fairy. Might as well wear a sign.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
a Booth/Zack fic:
A man gets to a certain stage in his life, and he no longer wants a roommate. Seeley is well past that age…which is why he doesn’t have one.
Except now, he has Zack.
Zack is more like a rude houseguest that thinks he’s a roommate.
Seeley’s sure he doesn’t mean to be rude. But the kid is…awkward. And the phrase “socially retarded” comes to mind. Seeley can’t really blame Tessa when she stops spending the night. Zack has this…staring thing he does, which doesn’t remotely touch the awkwardness of inappropriate, ill-timed questions, but is nonetheless creepy as hell.
Plus, it’s not like his place is really designed for privacy. It’s a one-bedroom. It’s sort of implied that privacy is unnecessary in that kind of floor plan. Sound…carries.
And there’s the food thing. The kid might be 24, but he still eats like he’s 19 and away from home for the first time. Seeley wonders aloud one day how that giant brain can run off of Skittles and Hawaiian Punch alone, and is informed that actually, the brain metabolizes solely simple carbohydrates.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hostage excerpt - Dawn is tied to the bed. Angelus is very very angry.
“Have you ever skinned anything, Dawn?”
Her mouth snapped shut. Eyes stretched wide. Her face was so bloodless, it was gray. He took that as a no.
She flinched when he touched her. Ran a light finger in a half-circle around the base of her neck, and down her bare midline, between her breasts. When he reached soft curls of hair, he redirected, veering down her leg to encircle a slender ankle.
"I've skinned a lot of men--when you live 250 years, you do most things a few times. This I do because I enjoy it though." Blue eyes looked back at him, wounded and mistrustful. "The most unexpected thing about it, the first time you skin someone, is how easy it is. It's kind of like taking off a really tight shirt. If you do it right, you can get the whole thing off in one big piece." He traced down her other leg. "But first you have to make the seams. Best if you use a razor or a scalpel, if you want to preserve the muscle beneath. Can't cut too deep. If you leave the muscle intact, you can peel the skin right off with your bare hands. Especially if the person is young and lean." Angelus' fingers glossed across her soft, flat belly. "The trickiest thing is the limbs."
Angelus held her eyes as he moved up to trace one arm of a T across her chest from his imaginary midline incision. She was trembling now. "I find it works best if you make a little sleeve, slit down the inside." Dawn gave a full-body shudder as his finger softly sliced the velvety inner skin of her arm, drawing a ring around her wrist. Her heart was beating fast like a little bird's. He picked up her hand and caressed it aimlessly. His voice was so soft, and mild. "You can do the hands and feet, too, but those take a little more work—like turning a glove inside out, but the skin doesn’t really want to come off. So you save those for last, because just when you think they're insensible to the pain, that'll make them squeal. Gotta leave the face alone--it's more fun that way. People make the funniest expressions when they’re being tortured."
He was silent for the space of half a dozen rapid, shallow breaths. The stench of fear was strong. He reached up and brushed gentle knuckles against her cheek, ignoring the way that she flinched. "It's messy, though. Blood everywhere, and what a waste. That's why I save it for when someone has really pissed me off."
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~
yeah, I think that's enough for now *snicker*
felisblanco. I've done this one before, and well...I'm a cocktease. I can't help it. *ducks*When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
snippet from I Burn - I tried to avoid anything with spoilers, which didn't leave much, really:
“Angel always has liked em pretty, least that didn’t change when he switched teams.”
Will eyed Liam out of the corner of his eye. “You know about…?”
Lindsey snorted. “Please, look at this motherfucker. I don’t understand how anyone looks at him and doesn’t know that he’s gay. I mean, look at his shoes.”
Will looked down at the cowboy boots on Liam’s feet and then back to Lindsey. “They’re…boots.”
“Fancy city boots. Fucking fairy. Might as well wear a sign.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
a Booth/Zack fic:
A man gets to a certain stage in his life, and he no longer wants a roommate. Seeley is well past that age…which is why he doesn’t have one.
Except now, he has Zack.
Zack is more like a rude houseguest that thinks he’s a roommate.
Seeley’s sure he doesn’t mean to be rude. But the kid is…awkward. And the phrase “socially retarded” comes to mind. Seeley can’t really blame Tessa when she stops spending the night. Zack has this…staring thing he does, which doesn’t remotely touch the awkwardness of inappropriate, ill-timed questions, but is nonetheless creepy as hell.
Plus, it’s not like his place is really designed for privacy. It’s a one-bedroom. It’s sort of implied that privacy is unnecessary in that kind of floor plan. Sound…carries.
And there’s the food thing. The kid might be 24, but he still eats like he’s 19 and away from home for the first time. Seeley wonders aloud one day how that giant brain can run off of Skittles and Hawaiian Punch alone, and is informed that actually, the brain metabolizes solely simple carbohydrates.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hostage excerpt - Dawn is tied to the bed. Angelus is very very angry.
“Have you ever skinned anything, Dawn?”
Her mouth snapped shut. Eyes stretched wide. Her face was so bloodless, it was gray. He took that as a no.
She flinched when he touched her. Ran a light finger in a half-circle around the base of her neck, and down her bare midline, between her breasts. When he reached soft curls of hair, he redirected, veering down her leg to encircle a slender ankle.
"I've skinned a lot of men--when you live 250 years, you do most things a few times. This I do because I enjoy it though." Blue eyes looked back at him, wounded and mistrustful. "The most unexpected thing about it, the first time you skin someone, is how easy it is. It's kind of like taking off a really tight shirt. If you do it right, you can get the whole thing off in one big piece." He traced down her other leg. "But first you have to make the seams. Best if you use a razor or a scalpel, if you want to preserve the muscle beneath. Can't cut too deep. If you leave the muscle intact, you can peel the skin right off with your bare hands. Especially if the person is young and lean." Angelus' fingers glossed across her soft, flat belly. "The trickiest thing is the limbs."
Angelus held her eyes as he moved up to trace one arm of a T across her chest from his imaginary midline incision. She was trembling now. "I find it works best if you make a little sleeve, slit down the inside." Dawn gave a full-body shudder as his finger softly sliced the velvety inner skin of her arm, drawing a ring around her wrist. Her heart was beating fast like a little bird's. He picked up her hand and caressed it aimlessly. His voice was so soft, and mild. "You can do the hands and feet, too, but those take a little more work—like turning a glove inside out, but the skin doesn’t really want to come off. So you save those for last, because just when you think they're insensible to the pain, that'll make them squeal. Gotta leave the face alone--it's more fun that way. People make the funniest expressions when they’re being tortured."
He was silent for the space of half a dozen rapid, shallow breaths. The stench of fear was strong. He reached up and brushed gentle knuckles against her cheek, ignoring the way that she flinched. "It's messy, though. Blood everywhere, and what a waste. That's why I save it for when someone has really pissed me off."
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~
yeah, I think that's enough for now *snicker*
