(no subject)
Sep. 18th, 2012 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galI miss writing fanfic, but I don't have the mental focus for a full-on story. So... it's meme time. You give me the summary of a story I never wrote, and I'll give you a snippet from that story. So, let's see what you can throw at me. I can write in Buffy, Sentinel, Firefly, SG1, NCIS, or SPN.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: Snippet: Shared Grief - Broodfest Thunderdome 2002
Date: 2012-11-01 04:18 am (UTC)Angel slid the heavy tome down the bar to Xander.
“Thanks for nothing,” Xander said. Normally he reveled in a chance to verbally torture Angel. After all, if he had to drive for two days straight to get a damn spell book, the least he could do was entertain himself. However, poking a silent Angel wasn’t much fun. “What has you acting more depressed than normal?”
Angel slowly spun a shot glass of some amber liquid.
“I mean, this is broody, even for you.”
“You have your book. Go away.” Angel didn’t look up from his drink.
“You know, I would, but I am obligated to poke fun of you. It’s in my contract.”
Angel gave Xander a sidelong look, but he didn’t answer. Now Xander knew something was wrong.
“I suppose I could stick around for a while and verbally torture you. I mean, they don’t need the book until next week’s Armageddon.”
“Why not? It’s not more than I deserve.” Angel lifted the glass and threw back the contents in one gulp.
“Someone’s feeling a little martyrish.”
Angel narrowed his eyes, which tended to undermine his comment that he wanted torturing.
“That’s okay, I can see how saving the world would make you feel like shit. Yep. Totally. Except for the part where it makes no sense and you’re an idiot.”
“Cordelia is dead.”
“Um, for a while now,” Xander said, suddenly confused. “Unless she’s come back at some point and you’ve killed her again. That would be new.”
“She’d be alive if it wasn’t for me.”
“I doubt it. Didn’t that law firm capture her and try to pull her eyes out? I’m pretty sure she’d die of that, and even if she didn’t, trust me, having an eye pulled out… not fun.” Xander frowned. “And when did I start reassuring you? I don’t like you.”
“Because I don’t deserve to be liked.” Angel spit the words out. “I went to work for them. I worked for that law firm. I really thought I could change them.”
“I stood up the woman I loved. And actually, that was the me being nice part. I drove her back into demonness and there was death and guilt and a lot of blood involved. A lot.”
“My crew is gone. Most of them are dead. Don’t pretend you know how I feel, boy.”
Xander snorted. “Right. The fact that I was so desperate to fix the world that I called Sweet into this universe and people’s heads exploded…there’s no guilt there. No siree. Nope.”
“I spent a hundred years—”
“If you start that crap about crawling through alleys, I’m going to poke you with a sharp wood stick. Eating rats is not guilt-worthy. Bath-worthy? Oh hell yes. It might even be therapy-worthy, but killing rats is not something to apologize for.”
“So, you know more about guilt that I do in two hundred years of pain?” Angel didn’t even hide his growl.
“Hell yes. You feel guilty about not saving the world, about not being perfect enough to fix everything—which implies that you think you’re some superhero who should be perfect. Now me, I’m a normal person feeling guilty for doing truly shitting things that cost people their lives, so excuse me for getting really tired of you having to win every contest.”
Angel turned on his chair and faced Xander for the first time. “And you think you should win this contest?”
“Well… yeah. At least I’m not feeling guilty about my lack of being utterly perfect and saving the world.”
“No, you just think your guilt and pain can outweigh two-hundred years of suffering.” Angel raised his eyebrows, and about a minute too late, Xander realized he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. Okay, that sounded arrogant, not that Xander planned to admit that to Mr. Broody Pants.
A green demon walked up and put another glass of amber something in front of Angel and left a tall glass of something fruity with one of those little umbrellas in front of Xander. “Sweetcheeks, you’re both annoying, and I do mean number one with a bullet to the top of the charts annoying. So have something to drink and spare the rest of us your depressing stories.” The demon gave them both an overly bright smile before turning to the scattered crowd. “My lovely ladies and dashing demons, who is up for some karaoke?”
Re: Snippet: Shared Grief - Broodfest Thunderdome 2002
Date: 2012-11-03 05:17 am (UTC)Gabrielle
Re: Snippet: Shared Grief - Broodfest Thunderdome 2002
Date: 2012-11-03 06:48 am (UTC)Wee fixes:
- Xander asked as he slipped sat on the stool next to Angel. [he sat]
- feeling guilty for doing truly shitting things [shitty]
Re: Snippet: Shared Grief - Broodfest Thunderdome 2002
Date: 2012-11-03 08:01 am (UTC)And hey, you might consider earnestly to write sequels or stories to all of those great ficlets (or is it these ficlets in this case? - Well, you know I'm not a hero in using this language *grin*)
Re: Snippet: Shared Grief - Broodfest Thunderdome 2002
Date: 2012-11-03 11:35 pm (UTC)Well, at least he got Angel out of his funk.