momebie: (NNoD Caleb smoke)
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[Source.]


I've started working on re-writing the WWII AU so that it's real. No one tell Em, I don't want her to get her hopes up.

. . .

With all of the national delegates convening in one place to discuss the growing alien crisis, the district had anticipated some sort of terrorist attack. Attempts had been made to create safe lighting zones with gas lamps erected in the streets. They were meant to help people get out of the city more safely in case of a technological attack. They made the men uneasy. The men were used to diffused electric and halogen glows that set a person's features in stone, not the mercurial shadow play that cast a person's demons across their skin as the light flickered with the fuel.

Heeden stepped out the front door of the hotel like she was leaving a bar and tilted her hat back, giving the signal to the boys hiding in the dark room across the street. With any luck it would be at least fifteen minutes before someone discovered the dead men upstairs. She lit a cigarette and pushed off the porch, expecting to see her men armed and in the alley in less than five.

Behind her, a familiar voice shot out of the shadows. "Still inflicting your bad habits on young men, I see," Aed said.

"If you're here to save them, you're too late," she sad.

"I don't suppose it matters whether you're talking about my superiors or the lost boys you've collected over the last year."

"No boy was ever more lost than you. Did the army ever give you a working compass?"

"My compass works fine," he said. "But it's hard to read, when access to a True North has been obscured."

"Fuck with the planet, it fucks back." She could see the glint of the guns across from her, waiting for her order. She took three quick sips of the cigarette, giving a signal with the burning tip to hold on. She stood stone still as his boots slapped across the concrete behind her.

"Did you bring him?" Aed whispered into her ear and wrapped his fingers around her hip. "Did we come all this way just so he could save you from me again? Does he know that this time you really need it?"

Date: 2014-11-07 06:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] paragraphs.livejournal.com
And next? :)

Date: 2014-11-09 12:57 am (UTC)
ext_289215: (Batwoman bleed)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
And next he slices her throat while Rajin and Caleb watch and then takes her body to a medical facility to be experimented on. Except she's not actually dead, so when they fuse the alien consciousness to her neural pathways it brings her back too and they sort of cohabit in a world neither of them understands. (Because she lost her memories of before the incident.)

I have legit written this scene and the ones where she wakes up about ten times a piece from different points of view and such. It's just on a loop in my head and part of the reason I've never written the whole thing. It overwhelms me.

Date: 2014-11-07 07:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] glass-houses.livejournal.com
I'm not proud of my novel in any sense of the word. In fact I'm rather displeased at this point. It's grating on me, and I've been completely pantsing so what was supposed to be romance has actually been sort of a fake memoir. Just... disappointed. Not sure where to go from here. I'm on the cusp of 10k. Every day I fight to keep up my daily word count. Last year I was a speed demon and won on the 24th. I don't think I'll be winning shit this year.

Sorry for using you as a sound board/therapist of sorts. I'm just down about the whole thing.

Date: 2014-11-09 01:01 am (UTC)
ext_289215: (FOB Pete/Patrick BFF)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
You use me for whatever you need to use me for. Seriously.

And you know, 10k is pretty good. Sometimes projects get unwieldy and the scope needs to change. Sometimes we just need to scrap or shelve things and work on what makes us feel more accomplished. I mean, don't be me and only exclusively start projects without finishing them, but being frustrated over a work doesn't make you or it not worthy. Some days are just going to suck. Let those go. Cling to the ones that make you feel okay.

Date: 2014-11-10 02:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] glass-houses.livejournal.com
This is the third day of no writing. I'm no longer inspired for it. I'm not so upset over it, though. I had a really bad day the other day. Thank you. ♥

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