Drabblebunnies (fandom post)
Mar. 30th, 2007 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rozzlynnWhy are drabblebunnies so much more prolific than plotbunnies? I have oneshots that I haven't posted to ff.net yet, and ones that I haven't posted to Golden Sun Fanfictions yet - I want to get a bit more reviewing done first. Still, there are moments and isolated scenes and beginnings of planned oneshots and chaptered fics that float around the things which I've completed and pinned down, a haze of things which will only keep shifting until they lead to something complete.
And I might as well post the Golden Sun sudoku. (Icons from that dead Lighthouse-themed site.)
There was one humour fic on ff.net in which the author announced a contest. The less-than-a-page that I sent her relies on the fic for context too much to really do anything with, but I am (perhaps unreasonably) fond of some of it:
Licking cookie dough from his fingers, Ivan reached for the spice rack. His sister was teaching him how to make Contigo's famous cookies, a recipe that took years to perfect. Not that this batch needed to be perfect... Mixing in far too much cinnamon before Hama prised the jar from his hand, Ivan grinned and grabbed the sugar again. You could always use more sugar...
Sitting at a desk piled high with heavy texts and murky glass bottles, Garet peered into his bowl through the glasses he'd borrowed from Kraden. The viscous purple gunk inside was starting to smoke. It needed... more sal ammoniac, probably. That oughta do it. With any luck, he should have this cure for cancer done by the end of the day. Then Jenna would notice him. Or maybe only Kraden would... Shuddering, Garet mixed in half a bottle of aqua vitae, downing the rest himself.
One part tequila, one part vodka, plenty of ice... As ghosts, none of them could partake of life any longer, but as spirits, they at least had spirits. Once Saturos finished manifesting the table, Alex set down the drinks; Karst tried to grab one, but Menardi caught her arm.
“You're not old enough!”
“What difference - ”
“You're not because I say you're not.”
“I never will be, in your eyes!”
“So, anyone else up for karaoke?” Agatio asked loudly. It wasn't as if the sisters could actually kill each other now, but still...
Then there's the 1000-letter story thread on the Roc's Nest forums - some new guy started it, there was no reply for a while, I saw it and had a go at one, there was no reply ever again. And it seemed like fun, too.
The snow crunched beneath Felix’s boots as he stepped forward, left, right and back, tracing in the air with a wooden sword a series of strikes against some invisible foe. With one last wild swing, he threw the sword as high and as far as he could. It landed a short distance down the slope of the deserted hillside, sinking into the snow. Felix scowled, trudging over to pick it up. He’d seen the new Proxan recruits training like that, stepping in formation under the critical gazes of Saturos and Menardi. Why didn’t it feel like he was getting anywhere?
“Giving up?” Karst’s voice cut through the freezing air. “I don’t blame you.”
“…” Felix didn’t bother turning round. He’d have told her to shut up, she didn’t know what she was talking about - but he couldn’t talk like that to one of the strongest warriors in the town holding him and his parents hostage.
“Prox will be saved,” Karst continued, smugness and sisterly pride both evident in her voice, “by Prox’s heroes.”
“I’ll be one of them.” Felix turned to meet her gaze.
“Hmm…” Karst tilted her head, giving him an amused look. “Your mother wants to see you. Mine seems to think that’s reason enough to send me out to look for you. Be a good boy and run along.”
There is one idea which I do intend to write someday - a great long multi-chapter GS fic - but before I can write it, I need to learn far, far more about rural medieval society and old grammar/vocabularies, as well as come up with practically the entire plot. (What I have right now is little more than a novelty to base a story around.) After spending a while reading the Sonnets last week, I managed a rough first draft of the first sentence or so, but once I actually know what I'm doing (however long that may take) I'll have to completely re-do that first line. It's going to take... so much research... T.T
Softly his lips met hers i'th'autumnal air, sweetly as the verdant wildgrass sway'd about that breath-bounded kingdom; for sure, an earnest entreaty that this last fortnight's woes be o'erswayed by fresh tenderness. Fine fingers met coarse tunic; fair hair swung loose about her shoulders;
And then there's something which I can't send to SuicuneSol until I finally get a bit further with talking about his first fic on the forums. And one which I can't write unless I ever manage to find kd7sov (not sure if I have his name right) from that Golden Sun forum that closed down a while ago, and get his permission and copies of the rest of his 'interviews'.
And the other day, I decided to sit down and try writing something Alex/Garet, however short/silly/pointless it might turn out, for fun and because I wish there was more (or, in fact, any) of that pairing around. Once it got started, it turned into a... different pairing. In a way that's kinda freaky and R-rated, sorta in that way but sorta not. Set after something that I haven't even written yet, so that there's not even the slightest chance that it'd make sense to anyone else right now. I'm thinking I'll just finish it (so that I can see what it is a little more clearly), hold onto it until I've written that other thing, and then hope that there'll be someone I can ask to take a look at it for me. A line that's not too bad: The lawn was damp. He might have slept there, but other people existed.
And, last night, I was listening to Johnny Cash's final album with GS on my mind, and I wrote something of a scene... It might make a oneshot, maybe. I know it's not finished, and I'm not sure what else to do to it yet.
“You're slowing down.” Alex gazed out across the sand.
“I had it in three.” Saturos turned to glance at the others, collapsed against the cliff a ways further down, weary and thirsty. Three sword strokes, and that last monster had fallen. Sand and blood.
“It should not have taken that long. You're both slowing down. This is taking...” Thinking again, he didn't say it. Cracked lips let out a brief, irritated sigh. He'd been healing them all. Warriors and weaklings. Wounds and heatstroke. I can't keep my cool when it's this hot...
Without a word, Saturos looked up at Menardi's approach; he took the empty flask that she handed him and passed it on to Alex. With a moment's visible concentration, the Mercury Adept refilled it; before handing it back, he took one of the containers from his belt and pulled out a crumpled paper packet, once again adding a few pinches of a dried herb to the water. With a nod of thanks, Menardi headed back over to the others, the sand crunching beneath her boots.
“And what is it with all those boulders? A repeating pattern...” Alex trailed off, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. He had the feeling there was something he almost remembered which might apply, a few lines of print or an illustration, skimmed over years ago or even... They ought to be able to tell what it meant, but whatever he had known, it had been buried by weightier concerns.
“Kraden was wondering about that too, wasn't he?” Saturos replied, watching the air waver in the heat. He could almost taste the fire in the air.
“Regardless... You will cut down everything in our way. Do not falter now...” The warriors were slowing down, whether or not they would admit it. The heat was getting to them.
“That old sage has proved remarkably resilient. I wonder if he'll survive this entire journey?”
“This was never a journey fit for children or the elderly,” Alex reflected. They really were dragging a lot of children along with them. Even the sweet, kind, stubborn young girl he'd tried to leave safely at home. She would not be strong enough to see her group through the desert.
“If they die, so be it,” Saturos quietly replied. The quest was all that mattered. He and Menardi were devoted. They had questioned only Felix's resolve. “If we die, so be it.”
“I doubt a little sun and sand will prove your undoing.” Alex laughed slightly, finding it absurd that the Proxan's philosophy could be so different from his own. “And I will die far from... all these wretched boulders...” If at all.
And I might as well post the Golden Sun sudoku. (Icons from that dead Lighthouse-themed site.)
There was one humour fic on ff.net in which the author announced a contest. The less-than-a-page that I sent her relies on the fic for context too much to really do anything with, but I am (perhaps unreasonably) fond of some of it:
Licking cookie dough from his fingers, Ivan reached for the spice rack. His sister was teaching him how to make Contigo's famous cookies, a recipe that took years to perfect. Not that this batch needed to be perfect... Mixing in far too much cinnamon before Hama prised the jar from his hand, Ivan grinned and grabbed the sugar again. You could always use more sugar...
Sitting at a desk piled high with heavy texts and murky glass bottles, Garet peered into his bowl through the glasses he'd borrowed from Kraden. The viscous purple gunk inside was starting to smoke. It needed... more sal ammoniac, probably. That oughta do it. With any luck, he should have this cure for cancer done by the end of the day. Then Jenna would notice him. Or maybe only Kraden would... Shuddering, Garet mixed in half a bottle of aqua vitae, downing the rest himself.
One part tequila, one part vodka, plenty of ice... As ghosts, none of them could partake of life any longer, but as spirits, they at least had spirits. Once Saturos finished manifesting the table, Alex set down the drinks; Karst tried to grab one, but Menardi caught her arm.
“You're not old enough!”
“What difference - ”
“You're not because I say you're not.”
“I never will be, in your eyes!”
“So, anyone else up for karaoke?” Agatio asked loudly. It wasn't as if the sisters could actually kill each other now, but still...
Then there's the 1000-letter story thread on the Roc's Nest forums - some new guy started it, there was no reply for a while, I saw it and had a go at one, there was no reply ever again. And it seemed like fun, too.
The snow crunched beneath Felix’s boots as he stepped forward, left, right and back, tracing in the air with a wooden sword a series of strikes against some invisible foe. With one last wild swing, he threw the sword as high and as far as he could. It landed a short distance down the slope of the deserted hillside, sinking into the snow. Felix scowled, trudging over to pick it up. He’d seen the new Proxan recruits training like that, stepping in formation under the critical gazes of Saturos and Menardi. Why didn’t it feel like he was getting anywhere?
“Giving up?” Karst’s voice cut through the freezing air. “I don’t blame you.”
“…” Felix didn’t bother turning round. He’d have told her to shut up, she didn’t know what she was talking about - but he couldn’t talk like that to one of the strongest warriors in the town holding him and his parents hostage.
“Prox will be saved,” Karst continued, smugness and sisterly pride both evident in her voice, “by Prox’s heroes.”
“I’ll be one of them.” Felix turned to meet her gaze.
“Hmm…” Karst tilted her head, giving him an amused look. “Your mother wants to see you. Mine seems to think that’s reason enough to send me out to look for you. Be a good boy and run along.”
There is one idea which I do intend to write someday - a great long multi-chapter GS fic - but before I can write it, I need to learn far, far more about rural medieval society and old grammar/vocabularies, as well as come up with practically the entire plot. (What I have right now is little more than a novelty to base a story around.) After spending a while reading the Sonnets last week, I managed a rough first draft of the first sentence or so, but once I actually know what I'm doing (however long that may take) I'll have to completely re-do that first line. It's going to take... so much research... T.T
Softly his lips met hers i'th'autumnal air, sweetly as the verdant wildgrass sway'd about that breath-bounded kingdom; for sure, an earnest entreaty that this last fortnight's woes be o'erswayed by fresh tenderness. Fine fingers met coarse tunic; fair hair swung loose about her shoulders;
And then there's something which I can't send to SuicuneSol until I finally get a bit further with talking about his first fic on the forums. And one which I can't write unless I ever manage to find kd7sov (not sure if I have his name right) from that Golden Sun forum that closed down a while ago, and get his permission and copies of the rest of his 'interviews'.
And the other day, I decided to sit down and try writing something Alex/Garet, however short/silly/pointless it might turn out, for fun and because I wish there was more (or, in fact, any) of that pairing around. Once it got started, it turned into a... different pairing. In a way that's kinda freaky and R-rated, sorta in that way but sorta not. Set after something that I haven't even written yet, so that there's not even the slightest chance that it'd make sense to anyone else right now. I'm thinking I'll just finish it (so that I can see what it is a little more clearly), hold onto it until I've written that other thing, and then hope that there'll be someone I can ask to take a look at it for me. A line that's not too bad: The lawn was damp. He might have slept there, but other people existed.
And, last night, I was listening to Johnny Cash's final album with GS on my mind, and I wrote something of a scene... It might make a oneshot, maybe. I know it's not finished, and I'm not sure what else to do to it yet.
“You're slowing down.” Alex gazed out across the sand.
“I had it in three.” Saturos turned to glance at the others, collapsed against the cliff a ways further down, weary and thirsty. Three sword strokes, and that last monster had fallen. Sand and blood.
“It should not have taken that long. You're both slowing down. This is taking...” Thinking again, he didn't say it. Cracked lips let out a brief, irritated sigh. He'd been healing them all. Warriors and weaklings. Wounds and heatstroke. I can't keep my cool when it's this hot...
Without a word, Saturos looked up at Menardi's approach; he took the empty flask that she handed him and passed it on to Alex. With a moment's visible concentration, the Mercury Adept refilled it; before handing it back, he took one of the containers from his belt and pulled out a crumpled paper packet, once again adding a few pinches of a dried herb to the water. With a nod of thanks, Menardi headed back over to the others, the sand crunching beneath her boots.
“And what is it with all those boulders? A repeating pattern...” Alex trailed off, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. He had the feeling there was something he almost remembered which might apply, a few lines of print or an illustration, skimmed over years ago or even... They ought to be able to tell what it meant, but whatever he had known, it had been buried by weightier concerns.
“Kraden was wondering about that too, wasn't he?” Saturos replied, watching the air waver in the heat. He could almost taste the fire in the air.
“Regardless... You will cut down everything in our way. Do not falter now...” The warriors were slowing down, whether or not they would admit it. The heat was getting to them.
“That old sage has proved remarkably resilient. I wonder if he'll survive this entire journey?”
“This was never a journey fit for children or the elderly,” Alex reflected. They really were dragging a lot of children along with them. Even the sweet, kind, stubborn young girl he'd tried to leave safely at home. She would not be strong enough to see her group through the desert.
“If they die, so be it,” Saturos quietly replied. The quest was all that mattered. He and Menardi were devoted. They had questioned only Felix's resolve. “If we die, so be it.”
“I doubt a little sun and sand will prove your undoing.” Alex laughed slightly, finding it absurd that the Proxan's philosophy could be so different from his own. “And I will die far from... all these wretched boulders...” If at all.
