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likeahurricane7
05 October 2013 @ 12:36 pm
So. I've reached an interesting new place in my development as a writer. I've got the beginnings of a skeleton (at long bloody last, thanks in some small part to the brilliance of my roommate in illuminating a particularly tricky antagonist for me) upon which to build my novel. It could consume me entirely at any time, now. When it does, it is quite unlikely that I will be able to find the time or energy to work on any of my older projects. Thus, I'm putting all of my current unfinished fanfictions on hiatus, unless the ideas behind them become particularly aggressive again, which I don't see happening, considering that they are mere plot bunnies, and my novel here has plot leviathans.

That aside, rest assured that I will, in all likelihood, still generate the random short story or other bit of fic in between leviathans. I do need breaks now and then. On a related note: anyone who hasn't done so already should watch the BBC series Sherlock, because it is amazing. I only finished watching it a week ago, and been browsing the fandom's fanfiction selection for a week, and I've written my own fic for it that's about 11,000 words long. I'm not "jumping ship" to the Sherlock fandom, but I will admit that I'm having a very satisfactory illicit affair with it.

So.

About that time, eh, chaps?

Righto.

I'm going to be doing a bit of moving on from here. I may even start using this journal as something of a journal. We shall see. Cheers, mates.
 
 
likeahurricane7
26 June 2012 @ 10:20 pm

Series Title: Tricks of the Trade - WIP

Rating: Obscene (here and there)

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark (I like crazy and I like genius, this was inevitable)

Word Count:  83,000-ish and counting

Warnings: Flagrant amorality, varying degrees of psychosis, a bit of sex, and a lot of snark. Also: BAMF-itude may a factor. Welcome to the S. S. Frostiron.

Summary:  A series of exchanges between a pair of talented showmen: mutual torment of a verbose nature, unexpected gifts, and the peculiar honesty of a pair of craftsmen proud of their own work, and willing to admit admiration of another’s. Also featuring: Loki talking his way out of incarceration, Tony Stark making reckless business decisions on a whim, the rest of the Avengers being perplexed over breakfast, Nick Fury's distaste for magic, the badassery of golden apples, and much much more.

A/N: So... I seem to have been sucked into the Avengers fandom. Go figure. I tried really, really hard not to. It didn't work. Long story.

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On Tumblr

• 1. Of Liars’ Gifts and Gifted Liars • 2. Redemption is for Suckers • 3. Calculating Chaos • 4. Practical VillainyPart IPart IIPart III • Dance Little Liar: Part IPart II 

Or

The Whole Lot on 
AO3

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Current Mood: Chagrined
 
 
 
likeahurricane7
05 November 2010 @ 12:56 pm
If there's one thing I've learned about my life this past year, it's that until I become a writer for a living, I'm going to be quietly and abjectly miserable deep within my pseudo-soul. (It's a well known fact amongst my friends that I don't have a soul, so I either borrow from naive children, purchase off ebay, or just stick with a faux one that's far more durable)

Writing isn't just my penultimate goal to achieve in my lifetime, but it's gotten into my blood, no matter how hard my practical side has tried to overrule it. It's my fixation, my addiction, my passion, and all I've ever done in my life, it seems, is stifle it because of how "important" everything else makes itself: school, family, survival. Survival is the big one. I can't side-step it, and only over the past two years has it reached the point that it consumes all else. I work 40+ hours a week doing tech support, and I think it's going to kill me if I can't at least get back to the relative safe-haven of school.

At least when I'm at school, I can think. I can pick up new bits of ideas everywhere, even when I'm only bored and half-attentive as I tend to be in my math classes. At work, I can't think much anymore. I get tangled up in playing my part: nice-ing people into submission, solving their technical issues as well as making them love their products and my employers again, factoring in their competency and their software versions and how likely they are to have an internet connection, parsing my words so as to make my overlords blameless and sacrosanct, and generally being a tad entertaining as well as competent. It's a juggling act that has become exhausting, especially given that I'm an introvert, and one of my catchphrases is "I hate people."

But I need this job to pay rent. I need to pay rent so that I don't have to live with either of my parents, which will drive me insane and kill either myself, or one/both of them, because I can't stand my family.

My roommate and I, you see, get along because we are the sanest (read: crazy in the good way*) people in each other's worlds, more's the pity. There's also the fact that we're both rather fiercely loyal, practical, and have been miraculously able to stand each other this long.

Of course, she can't stand me when I'm in writer-mode, but I think I've worked out why.

I've not been able to really spread my wings as a writer. There's always been something else in the way, not by my choice, either, really. So every time she's seen me lose touch with reality and just writewritewrite and then had to deal with how surly, disconnected, and foggy-brained I've tended to be––it's because I've been starving for it. It's always been desperate, and because I use up all of my energies everywhere else all week/month/bloody-year, by the time I can't escape a compulsive need to write something, anything, I crash and burn into the keyboard and there's nothing left of me but smoke until I've managed to sleep it off.

If I could treat my writing as something other than background noise to my survival, that wouldn't happen. If I had the time to boost my mind and my energy level with books, research, documentaries, good movies, and all of the other things I need in order to fuel the idea-machine in the back of my brain with in order to write what I want to write... by God, I'd be incandescently brilliant to hang around.

Of recent, due to my current lifestyle, I think I alternate between ADD and nonsensical, dead as a doornail, and quietly restless and bored––always: when lounging about at home, when with a few good friends, and even in public social situations. I'm not sure I'd want to hang out with me.

So I've been smothering myself slowly because it's been better than jumping off a cliff into the maelstrom that is living with my family, I think.

You know what I also think, though?

I think it's time to take control.

I'm better than this, and if there's one thing I know I'm capable of, it's pulling myself up by my bootstraps.

And what's that Warren Ellis quote? "Writer's block? I've heard of this. This is when a writer cannot write, yes? Then that person isn't a writer anymore. I'm sorry, but the job is getting up in the fucking morning and writing for a living."

It's about damned time I started working my ass off to be a writer. I've certainly no hope of becoming anything else. Not that I'm not capable of it, but the thought of doing anything else has always made me feel vaguely ill, wondering, "but when will I be able to fit writing in?"

My dear flatmate wants to make two-year plans that will culminate in the two of us saving up a good deal of money, and proceeding to spend a year in London. While I'm at it, why not make my own side-plans?

Get back to school, and proceed to dive headlong into both literature and history studies. Time to flood my brain with the information I want, the stuff that actively fascinates and thrills me, not cold facts I need in order to fix a bloody smartphone.

I need to get out of this place. So that's just what I'll do.

My thanks to Neil Gaiman for his presence at w00tstock, and his signing my sleeve, helping solidify my final determination in this matter. The man in front of me in line knew him, you see, and I realized that Mr. Gaiman spoke to him like a writer, and I was still just a fan.

I realised, in a blazing moment of clarity, that I want to be more than that. I want the writers I love to hear about my stories someday, when I've a few of them out there and published under my name. And I want them to read them. And I want to run into them sometime, and talk about what we've all written. I want to be on the same level as my heroes. Why else would they be my heroes, if I did not aspire to be at least a bit like them?

I will be a writer. Fuck everything else.
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likeahurricane7
22 October 2010 @ 02:03 pm
You know what is awesome? Working reasonable hours. Two weeks of getting up early, and against all expectations, I feel so much better than when I was on the bloody closing shift. I'm not nearly so exhausted all of the time. Can has energy ftw, yus.

It's a pity, really, because I do like wandering around at night. It just doesn't seem to be feasible insofar as maintaining my day-to-day sanity. At least, not on a consistent basis. I can handle closing-shift hours for about a month or two. Then I start feeling dead. Thus, an experiment: working four ten hour shifts that start at 9:30am, instead of five eight hour shifts that start at 2:30pm. If I start to feel dead again within two months, it will prove that I am neither nocturnal nor diurnal, but in fact simply need a constantly fluctuating schedule in order to keep from stagnating.

So, that stuff is boring. But this has been an experiment in using this journal as an actual journal. Thus, the more boring stuff shall emerge.

Also, saw this band the other night. They are nifty, if a bit upbeat for my usual tastes: The Summer Set

Note to self: living in Austin, TX, a crazy photographer/writer/crazy person should definitely find and experience more of the live music available 'round these parts. It's not decent otherwise.
 
 
 
likeahurricane7
Title: Five Times Dr. John Watson Surprised Sherlock Holmes + Two Minor Occasions wherein Sherlock and John Deeply Disconcerted Mycroft

Rating: R (very light)

Spoilers For: The Great Game

Beta: The Right Honorable porridgebird

Wordcount: 11,700ish

Disclaimer: No one in their right mind would entrust me with owning these characters. Oh, the things I would do to them.

Warnings: slash, obscure psychology bits, one scene-cut that blatantly avoids explaining the events shortly after the end of “The Great Game”

Summary: John is surprising in many ways: his courtship patterns, his recreational study of abnormal psychology, his selflessness, his gay-dar...



“More"Collapse )





On to Parts 5 and +2 of a Sherlock Fic With a Ridiculously Long Title



 
 
likeahurricane7
Title: Five Times Dr. John Watson Surprised Sherlock Holmes + Two Minor Occasions wherein Sherlock and John Deeply Disconcerted Mycroft

Rating: R (very light)

Spoilers For: The Great Game

Beta: The Right Honorable porridgebird

Wordcount: 11,700ish

Disclaimer: No one in their right mind would entrust me with owning these characters. Oh, the things I would do to them.

Warnings: slash, obscure psychology bits, one scene-cut that blatantly avoids explaining the events shortly after the end of “The Great Game”

Summary: John is surprising in many ways: his courtship patterns, his recreational study of abnormal psychology, his selflessness, his gay-dar...



“More...”Collapse )





Back to Parts 1-4



 
 
 
likeahurricane7
11 September 2010 @ 08:35 pm
Title: Pulvis et Umbra Sumus

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.

Summary: Title translates to, “we are dust and shadow.” Sequel to Mobilis in Mobili and Ordo ab Chao. Mistakes are made, and for a member of James’ adoptive family, some difficult truths are learned.

Beta: The Most Honorable Porridgebird

Warnings: None. Except maybe a smidge of violence since someone gets garroted.




On January 18th 2007, Amina received the news that her great-uncle James had died at sea...Collapse )