I've been busy...
Feb. 28th, 2005 08:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsAnd completely remiss in updating this. Sorry. I have been totally immersed (sp?) in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dirtytrousers which is good, but bad at the same time. BUT! I have been writing other things, just not showing you fine folks.
The sequel to my Seamus/Theo fic Rivalry - Revenge - is done and being perused bysanityinstrife for quality crackedness control.
Everybody Here Would Know, Day Two, is still stuck on one point, but I'm working through it.
The epilogue to The Origin of Storms is with my beta-reader.
Nighthawk 10 is temporarily stalled, not by my own will, but my muse's. She can be a stubborn bitch. I fully expect to get back on track with that soon, though.
I'm still feeling all the love from my Dirty Trousers fans. You are the best!
A gift?
“What?” Draco asked groggily, blinking up at him.
“Ernie. Chess. Horrible. Purge.” Ron said each word louder, until he was practically shouting in Draco’s face, and the blond struggled up into a sitting position.
“All right, all right. Fuck, you’re annoying, Weasley. Calm down.”
Ron swiped a hand across his lips and snorted. “Just let’s play a decent game, eh? My mind’s a pile of mush from Ernie’s stratagem.” He cracked his knuckles, then started setting up the board.
It took Ron nearly a minute to realize Draco had no idea what he was doing.
“You.” Ron’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You can’t do that,” he exclaimed after Draco ordered his knight to move three squares to the left and take out everything in between.
“Why not?” the Slytherin asked indignantly. Even the knight was looking at him funny.
Ron narrowed his eyes. “D’you even know how to properly play?”
“No,” Draco sneered. “Why would I ever bother to learn?”
“Because,” Ron sputtered, waving his hands about, “it’s strategy and skill. And thinking. And sharp-wittedness. And—“
“Incredibly boring,” Draco said through a yawn.
“Checkers is boring, Malfoy,” the redhead bit out. “Now,” he started, squirming his butt into a nice groove in the sand, “this is your queen…”
Draco, surprisingly, listened with a somewhat intent look on his face as Ron described the game, and afterwards managed a decent fight for the board.
“You know,” Draco said absently, pawn tucked tight in his fist, its protests muffled, “this Muggle music is bound to rot my brain.”
Ron hummed a bit of Kodachrome under his breath, because giving into the lure of Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes was possibly the most disturbing thing he could do within range of Draco. It could too easily parallel their life, in some fucked-up way. They were getting entirely too comfortable with each other.
The burying of the petty hatred had come well before their current island romp, of course. Otherwise, they would have skewered each other within moments of finding themselves stuck, and Ernie would’ve been left to sort through the pieces. But the… camaraderie… they seemed to be developing between them was nothing short of sickening. Ron could taste acidic bile at the back of his throat.
EDIT: It's snowing, work sent us home early, and I've just about OD'd on cookies. Hurray!
dirtytrousers which is good, but bad at the same time. BUT! I have been writing other things, just not showing you fine folks. The sequel to my Seamus/Theo fic Rivalry - Revenge - is done and being perused by
sanityinstrife for quality crackedness control.Everybody Here Would Know, Day Two, is still stuck on one point, but I'm working through it.
The epilogue to The Origin of Storms is with my beta-reader.
Nighthawk 10 is temporarily stalled, not by my own will, but my muse's. She can be a stubborn bitch. I fully expect to get back on track with that soon, though.
I'm still feeling all the love from my Dirty Trousers fans. You are the best!
A gift?
“What?” Draco asked groggily, blinking up at him.
“Ernie. Chess. Horrible. Purge.” Ron said each word louder, until he was practically shouting in Draco’s face, and the blond struggled up into a sitting position.
“All right, all right. Fuck, you’re annoying, Weasley. Calm down.”
Ron swiped a hand across his lips and snorted. “Just let’s play a decent game, eh? My mind’s a pile of mush from Ernie’s stratagem.” He cracked his knuckles, then started setting up the board.
It took Ron nearly a minute to realize Draco had no idea what he was doing.
“You.” Ron’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You can’t do that,” he exclaimed after Draco ordered his knight to move three squares to the left and take out everything in between.
“Why not?” the Slytherin asked indignantly. Even the knight was looking at him funny.
Ron narrowed his eyes. “D’you even know how to properly play?”
“No,” Draco sneered. “Why would I ever bother to learn?”
“Because,” Ron sputtered, waving his hands about, “it’s strategy and skill. And thinking. And sharp-wittedness. And—“
“Incredibly boring,” Draco said through a yawn.
“Checkers is boring, Malfoy,” the redhead bit out. “Now,” he started, squirming his butt into a nice groove in the sand, “this is your queen…”
Draco, surprisingly, listened with a somewhat intent look on his face as Ron described the game, and afterwards managed a decent fight for the board.
“You know,” Draco said absently, pawn tucked tight in his fist, its protests muffled, “this Muggle music is bound to rot my brain.”
Ron hummed a bit of Kodachrome under his breath, because giving into the lure of Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes was possibly the most disturbing thing he could do within range of Draco. It could too easily parallel their life, in some fucked-up way. They were getting entirely too comfortable with each other.
The burying of the petty hatred had come well before their current island romp, of course. Otherwise, they would have skewered each other within moments of finding themselves stuck, and Ernie would’ve been left to sort through the pieces. But the… camaraderie… they seemed to be developing between them was nothing short of sickening. Ron could taste acidic bile at the back of his throat.
EDIT: It's snowing, work sent us home early, and I've just about OD'd on cookies. Hurray!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-03-04 10:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-03-04 04:10 pm (UTC)Not quite as scary as Hannah's Fork of Doom, is it?
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Date: 2005-03-04 04:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-03-07 10:10 am (UTC)deleted and reposted for minor mistype *giggles*
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Date: 2005-03-07 10:34 am (UTC)