Entry tags:

writing

This is not a poll
I don't feel like making an actual poll, and I suspect I wouldn't actually abide by the results anyway, but I am actually not under any sort of fic deadline at the moment and am not planning on doing any holiday fests (with the exception of trying to nab a Yuletide pinch hit) and I find myself with several partially-written fics open and waiting for me to work on them.

Most of them are SGA (John/Rodney) because they were either false starts for McShep Match or...well, just because. I don't know why! XD

But the non-SGA one is this My Chem (Frank/Gerard) fic I started several years ago. I added on another 300 words or so earlier this year and then got distracted by some fest or other.

Then we have my original idea for Match, which itself was a reworking of a fic I was going to write for lgbtfest but couldn't get done in time. >_< It's transfic, Rodney is ftm and he and John are divorced and have a kid and will maybe eventually get back together. Or not, I haven't decided. I actually am thinking of writing this as original fic (probably to post on my journal and maybe at some point shop around if I feel like going through the hassle). Thoughts on John/Rodney vs original? (Mainly I was thinking it would be nice not to have to constantly think about what are AU-appropriate occupations and such based on canon.)

Oh, this was a bad idea.

This was a whole string of bad ideas, starting with dropping by unannounced and ending with being stupid enough to think anything with John had changed.

Now is a fine time to realize that. This revelation couldn't have come half an hour ago? Ten minutes ago, even. Some point before John's dick was actually in his ass would have been perfect.

John's bony hips bang against his ass. He runs one hand over Rodney's chest, squeezing. It doesn't feel like anything, but Rodney moans, arches his back, eager now to just get it over with.

It's pretty obvious where John doesn't touch him, where John refuses to look.

Rodney reaches down, jerks himself off. He has the worst fake orgasm he's ever had, but it seems to satisfy John, who bends down, bracing himself as he pounds away. It'd feel good under other circumstances. It does feel good.

Just not good enough to make up for the Mer that slips out when John comes.

They lie there afterwards, side by side but not touching. It's quiet for a long time, and it's only when John gets up for a piss, when he's halfway to the bathroom with his back to Rodney, that Rodney says, "That's not my name."

There's also a couple of kink bingo fics I've started (yes, now that the official fest is over, I'm just getting started!). Both are John/Rodney. Both are transfic. The first is for the branding square. And apparently these few paragraphs are actually all I have of it so far.

John notices the scar the first time he goes down on Rodney. He feels it before he sees it, his left thumb brushing over the smooth, slightly-raised patch of skin. It's in just the right spot when he's got his hands splayed out on Rodney's thighs and his nose buried in Rodney's pubes.

He keeps rubbing it, the same slow, lazy rhythm as his mouth on Rodney's dick, and Rodney's breath hitches and his fingers tighten in John's hair.

"John," Rodney says, his thighs tensing. "John, don't tease."

The second is one I just started writing yesterday for the pegging/strap-on square (it also includes D/s and restraints and buttplugs, and a lot of setup which is why I couldn't finish it in time to make it a prize for Match).

"Look, I'm heading out in a few minutes here," John says, "but I wanted to catch you before you left." He lowers his voice, conscious of the flight attendants and other pilots in the lounge. "I want you to be ready and waiting for me when I get in."

"Yes, yes, you already asked me to pick you-" Rodney inhales sharply, a little oh slipping out as he exhales. "Oh," he says again, "you mean."

"Yeah." John bites his lip to keep from grinning like a lunatic. He may not be able to see Rodney, but this is almost as good. "I mean."

"Now?"

"No time like the present," John says lightly.

"I, uh. I have a class this afternoon. I don't..."

"I know."

"But I-"

"Rodney," he says, suddenly serious.

That's all it takes. He can hear Rodney breathing on the other end of the line, can picture him naked and hard, standing a little straighter, his eyes downcast as he says, "Yes, sir."

Oh, and then there's a fic I started based on the top picture here. Er, also transfic. (Wow, surprise!) John and Rodney as kids, meeting each summer in an abandoned amusement park on vacation. This one is kind of gen, actually.

Today he couldn't stay til dark. Today they're leaving at noon. Today he'd expected to sit out here alone, but she is here and her face had lit up when she saw him. She'd said Ro- in a voice he didn't recognize and then her mouth had snapped shut so hard Rodney could hear her teeth click. Her mouth pulled tight in a way he supposed was meant to be a smile, but wasn't really at all.

He talked enough for both of them, talked even more than usual as they walked down the overgrown path past the ferris wheel and down the slope to the train.

There's only so much you can say when the person you're talking to will only nod or shake her head or raise her eyebrows or smile and duck her head in a way that makes Rodney's chest feel tight. He doesn't even remember half of what he said. He just knows he was talking. He was talking and talking and then he wasn't, and when he ran out of words there was no one else to jumpstart the conversation.

So they don't talk now, but it's not awkward. It's not like the silence between Mom and Dad, where he has to talk or Jeannie has to talk or it feels like the air might crack.

This is comfortable. This is the most he's ever felt at home.

And finally there's the fic I started for a Match prize, but it threatened to go long and I had to set it aside. It's a dystopian futurfic with clones. It's not a humor fic, but it includes the words "Beckett's Discount Clones" which amuses me immensely. I am actually pretty pleased with how it's going (I could say the same for all of these, actually. Also I could say that I like the word actually.)

"That one," John says. "Second from the left."

Second-from-the-left's head snaps up and he stares sullenly at John. Up close he's not as young as John first thought. Twenty-four, twenty-five, maybe. Somewhere around John's age. He doesn't say a word as John examines him, stares straight ahead as if John weren't even there.

"Name?"

The guy presses his lips together, his mouth a thin line slanting down to the left.

John cups his chin, fingers digging in maybe a little more than they need to. "Name?" he says again, and he can feel the guy's jaw unclench, but all he gets for an answer is a gob of spit on his cheek.

He wipes it off with his sleeve and turns to the broker. "I can see why he's on sale."

"Aye, that one's trouble." The broker looks down at the list in his hand. "MRM-680418. No nickname given." He gestures to a dull-eyed man at the end of the row and says, "Are you sure you wouldn't like one a bit more pliant? This one's a hard worker. Good quality."

Good quality would be in a fancy showroom, not a grungy hole-in-the-wall only accessible by alley. Good quality would not be in a place called Beckett's Discount Clones and they both know it.

Of course there are a million other snippets on my hard drive that I may or may not ever go back to, but these are the ones that are open and newish and thus have the highest chance of getting done. So what are your thoughts? Anything you're particularly interested in?