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Fanfic meme
Jun. 9th, 2009 12:22 pmSnatched from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leiamoody: Post an excerpt from every WIP you can find lying around.
Ugh, I've had this lying around for, well, about a month, since X-Men Origins: Wolverine came out. I just haven't had the time or the focused mind to finish it even though I'd say it's at least at the halfway point. Set up: Er, well basically, it's Victor going after Mystique during his days hunting Mutants down for Stryker, and having some vicious shapeshifter, animalistic sex (hey, Graydon Creed would have come into some of my modern X-Men fic eventually anyway!). So, here is an excerpt from Demolition Lovers, enjoy!
She was a blonde when Victor once more caught her trail, her fatigues gone; she was an incongruous European tourist in a pant suit shouting at passers-by in German, looking worried, hysterical. She played her part well. When there were few enough people around her, all running in the direction of the disturbance, she ducked into an alley, following it as if she’d memorized its route, to a building at the edge of the city, and Victor followed her along the rooftops, bounding agilely from one to another on all fours.
Taking a running leap, he crashed through an upper storey window, shaking the broken glass and plaster from his black duster, pulling a rather large, jagged shard stained with his blood from his shoulder; the pain was momentary at the most as the wound healed with a soft fleshy sealing sound.
Raven let loose the smallest of gasps, pausing for only the briefest of instants at the tumult on the top floor of her hideout. Instantaneously, her form shifted defensively into something with a bit more muscle; her tight-fitting fatigues had returned, her red hair short enough that it wouldn’t get it her way, neither would it provide her opponent a means of grabbing hold of her. “Who’s there?” she called out in Portuguese, moving toward the stair as she reached into her jacket and unholstered her gun, holding it in both hands in an offensive stance.
The wind was pushed from her lungs as her attacker came soaring down the stairwell, landing directly atop her and knocking her to the ground, the gun flying from her hand and skidding across the rough hewn flooring. She struggled to regain her breath with all his considerable weight perched atop her, to clear her vision of the little dancing fireflies of pain that had burst into her sight as the crown of her head had connected with the hard floor.
Acting on pure survival instinct alone, she’d lifted a leg as she had fallen, bracing her foot against him as he landed on her; her thigh was pressing painfully into her abdomen, and he’d nearly broken the leg beneath his substantial mass and the momentum with which he’d gathered while plummeting through the stairwell. But now the sole of her combat-issue boot was bearing into the tender place between his stomach and groin, solid, firmly muscled, but still vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, she shifted all of her strength, all of her power, behind that leg and shoved with all her might.
If I posted from every WIP I had lying around, this would be one long-ass post, so here's the one truly active one!
Peace, Ghani
leiamoody: Post an excerpt from every WIP you can find lying around.Ugh, I've had this lying around for, well, about a month, since X-Men Origins: Wolverine came out. I just haven't had the time or the focused mind to finish it even though I'd say it's at least at the halfway point. Set up: Er, well basically, it's Victor going after Mystique during his days hunting Mutants down for Stryker, and having some vicious shapeshifter, animalistic sex (hey, Graydon Creed would have come into some of my modern X-Men fic eventually anyway!). So, here is an excerpt from Demolition Lovers, enjoy!
She was a blonde when Victor once more caught her trail, her fatigues gone; she was an incongruous European tourist in a pant suit shouting at passers-by in German, looking worried, hysterical. She played her part well. When there were few enough people around her, all running in the direction of the disturbance, she ducked into an alley, following it as if she’d memorized its route, to a building at the edge of the city, and Victor followed her along the rooftops, bounding agilely from one to another on all fours.
Taking a running leap, he crashed through an upper storey window, shaking the broken glass and plaster from his black duster, pulling a rather large, jagged shard stained with his blood from his shoulder; the pain was momentary at the most as the wound healed with a soft fleshy sealing sound.
Raven let loose the smallest of gasps, pausing for only the briefest of instants at the tumult on the top floor of her hideout. Instantaneously, her form shifted defensively into something with a bit more muscle; her tight-fitting fatigues had returned, her red hair short enough that it wouldn’t get it her way, neither would it provide her opponent a means of grabbing hold of her. “Who’s there?” she called out in Portuguese, moving toward the stair as she reached into her jacket and unholstered her gun, holding it in both hands in an offensive stance.
The wind was pushed from her lungs as her attacker came soaring down the stairwell, landing directly atop her and knocking her to the ground, the gun flying from her hand and skidding across the rough hewn flooring. She struggled to regain her breath with all his considerable weight perched atop her, to clear her vision of the little dancing fireflies of pain that had burst into her sight as the crown of her head had connected with the hard floor.
Acting on pure survival instinct alone, she’d lifted a leg as she had fallen, bracing her foot against him as he landed on her; her thigh was pressing painfully into her abdomen, and he’d nearly broken the leg beneath his substantial mass and the momentum with which he’d gathered while plummeting through the stairwell. But now the sole of her combat-issue boot was bearing into the tender place between his stomach and groin, solid, firmly muscled, but still vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, she shifted all of her strength, all of her power, behind that leg and shoved with all her might.
If I posted from every WIP I had lying around, this would be one long-ass post, so here's the one truly active one!
Peace, Ghani
