HI, I'M SICK.

[ladyfoxxx]

So I spent the day curled up on the couch with my doona (duvet or comforter to you foreigners) and trying not to cough. My body has SUCH a sick sense of humour to be doing this NOW.

But the good news is! I have a bebunny! She's crashing here tonight, then tomorrow we're setting off with xclusiveantonym for Manchester where we'll meet up with dancinbutterfly and krisipanics to see those crazy Chimerical Romances again. And again on Saturday in Nottingham with dancinbutterfly because I am INSANE.

So, body, no time to get SICK now! OKAY? I am taking ALL the vitamin C.

In the meantime - have a meme!

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Feel free to ask about anything and I'll tell you the premise or paste you a tidbit for any of these.

bathroomjerkoffporn
bert
bobflashtelepathy
bobfrank
movieAUbobryan
desertradiopirates
gsf
guynextdoor
hardcandy2
hookerfrank
howitworks2
houseparties_coda
it stopped being a good idea pretty much straight away
jailbait
mcr-misfits
moshpitsex
post-sol-facebook
postTYVsplitfic
ppm
sceneslutmikey
sexisonfire
skeebsgerard
skeleton2
sleepysex
wwbb

Okay, so my filenames aren't all that descriptive, I am wavering as to whether to note the pairings too, or at least the verses since a bunch of them appear to be sequels. Let me know if there's any that sound interesting.

Comments

[lea-ndra.livejournal.com]

ohhh, there are certainly some files on there that I would love to read!!!

moshpitsex? hell yeah.

jailbat? gimme more.

desertradiopriates sounds really good, too.

and "it stopped being a good idea pretty much straight away", because I'm currently working on a file that's called "it was a truly awesome dream but..."

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Hehehe, well I've put out details of the moshpitsex and jailbait and "it stopped being a good idea" docs upthread, so scroll for those, and I'll tell you about desertradiopirates.

Oh lord THIS ONE has been on my plate for a while now. It was supposed to be my entry for the Pete/Mikey happyfic challenge. It's set in the dustverse - my weird, killjoys-origins verse (which got jossed to fuck, but whatever) and it was never meant to be as long as it got. It's basically what happens when Mikey and Ray stumble across Pete in the zones.

Have an excerpt!

He can feel Ray behind him, his blaster hovering in Mikey's peripheral vision as he takes aim. Now Mikey's got time to breathe he can take in the man whose chest shifts under his elbow. He's dark haired and tan skinned and covered in tattoos, which Mikey can see a lot of because he's only wearing a pair of boxers. He's also fucking shit scared.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, please." His voice is shaky, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip.

"Does that usually work?" Mikey asks, brow furrowing, his blade still steady.

"What?" Confusion mixes with terror on the guy's face and Mikey feels a tiny stab of conscience.

"Asking the guy with the weapon not to kill you. Does it usually work?"

"Well, I'm not dead, yet." The guy's eyes twitch between Mikey and Ray, sticking on the blaster like it's a bigger threat than the knife Mikey's got pressed against his pulse point.

"And that's a fucking miracle." Ray retorts, drier than the desert they just came from. "You're not using a scrambler, you're stationary and you're broadcasting non-stop. Are you sure you don't have a death wish? Because we could just put you out of your misery right now."

He wiggles the blaster and the guy shrinks back, hitting his head on the wall with a thump that sounds painful.

Mikey glances to the side and he can see the smile Ray's fighting to contain. They were right about this guy. He's totally clueless.

The guy recovers, squinting between the two of them, "Who are you?"

"You first." Mikey counters, still holding the blade steady.

"I'm Pete." He chokes out, sounding less sure than he did a moment ago and Mikey can feel the guy's heart pumping hard under his forearm.

"Okay." With a flick of his thumb, Mikey retracts the blade on his switch and grabs Pete by the neck, shoving him into the blacked-out living room. While Pete stumbles and recovers, Mikey takes two steps to the amp, yanking the headphone jack loose and filling the room with music.

"Where did you get this?" He demands, pitching his voice over the blaring music. He has to fight to concentrate because fuck, hearing it like this - clean and not coated in static - it's amazing. There's no question about the voice now.

"Where did I... what?"

"The music. Who did you steal it from?"

"I didn't steal it. It's mine. It's my fucking band." Pete spits the words out like he's forgotten he's the one who's unarmed and outnumbered.

Mikey has to fight to keep his expression blank, reminding himself this guy could be lying. "If this is your band, where's your singer?" He demands.

All the fight goes out of Pete in that moment and his mouth falls open. He stares at Mikey, at Ray, and back at Mikey. "You know where Patrick is."

It's a statement, not a question.

[lea-ndra.livejournal.com]

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

thank you! that's great! I totally want more now!

Mikey, so fierce!!!! :-)