Join together 'neath the misletoe....

[tabaqui]

Ah, Yule-time! Pretty much my favorite time of year. The scent of cedar in the house from the tree, cinnamon-y and bayberry candles, cold nights and frosty mornings and, if we're very good...snow!

I seem, however, to have had my internal thermometer reset. I *cannot* stay warm, no matter what i do. Thank heavens for space heaters and electric blankets!

I know that 'everyone', it seems, is doing this meme, but i do rarely do them, and it seems awfully fun.... kellifer_fic did one for me! So: tell me about a story I haven't written, and I will give you 1-3 sentences from or about it.

Depending on how many people ask for one, i'll have them up in the next few days. I reserve the right to cut off prompts, though, if y'all go nuts. Heh.

*I am still having guilt over the last time - a year or so ago? - i asked for prompts and never did them all. I think this will be better, as it's just a few sentences instead of a whole fic/let.*

ANYway - luff you all, stay warm - or cool, as your latitude dictates - and have fun!

ETA: These prompts are for fics i never wrote, guys, so - no timestamps or 'in the 'verse of' stuff, okay? I wanna try something new. :)

Comments

[tabaqui]

I don't, *and please excuse me not knowing his voice *at all** but.....

"This? This is a white truffle sauce infused with bacon and tequila. Drizzled over a cracked black pepper-seared t-bone with jalapeno and brown butter infused mashed potatoes."

Vincent set the plate down, turning it just a little and then patting the edge. Dean just stared at him.

"Will you marry me?"

[randomstasis.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes, Vincent would love him too. happy sigh.

You don't? Oh, you may have a treat coming someday, then;)
essential info; the food was free because the corp picks up the tab; Vincent had several PhDs in molecular gastronomy and endless freezer/pantry space that occupies some sort of space warp filled with literally everything one might desire- and I believe (although I don't know, because I'm really bad at recognizing actors in different parts) that he was also rrRonald Resnick!

(but, no reaction at all to the tiny nag about the fic you never wrote? O_O Or did you actually finish it?)

[tabaqui]

I've seen bits of episodes and read some fic but yeah, i've never watched. I may have to.

*for some reason, i was thinking that other show...with the pie shop in it? at first. dunno why.*

And - omg, yes, the circus, and Pip! I am feeling like i really *neeeeeed* to write on that, but it also needs a very stringent edit so i'm...dithering.
*sigh*

[randomstasis.livejournal.com]

PIP! could NOT remember his name, at all. Don't dither, just write the scary bit where he realizes *this* circus may not have been such a Great Escape after all;) I knew that scene was coming, even then..

oh, the pie shop show- yes, I can see where that would be a natural for Dean, lol. Another show I didn't see nearly enough of :(

[tabaqui]

The Twins made their way out, panting under their spangled, translucent costumes. The lights dimmed and then went out for long minutes, nothing but velvet blackness and the susurrus of the crowd, waiting. Beside Pip, Roland made a soft snorting sound and lit a cigarette, sweet smell of hash and tobacco curling invisibly around Pip, warm in his nostrils.

Without warning, a spotlight snapped to life, a blue-edged circle of sodium white light bright as the moon. And then Sinjin, gliding out from the shadows and into the light. He was wearing an Indochine robe of ivory and silver, threaded with electric blue, and behind him, pushed by two men, came a sort of rack.

It's made of blued iron, hung with shackles at the corners and Sinjin shed his robe into waiting hands - settled himself naked on the rack. The men - painted solid black from head to toe - close the iron shackles over his outstretched wrists - his ankles - his slender throat. He glowed against the dark metal, his hair raying out, shifting in some accidental breeze like grass under water. The Living Dead Boy. And then M. Biagui stepped onto the stage, a living flame in his scarlet and gold coat - his snowy breeches. He stroked his long, dark hand once through Sinjin's hair and then lifted both arms.

"Mesdames et Messieurs! Je présente.... Le Garçon Mort-Vivant!"

[randomstasis.livejournal.com]

ooooh, no dithering there! It's lush and creepy.
no editing needed, either... just moar.

(I really want to see the rest of this, just so you know;) I promise to buy it in hardback, even!

[tabaqui]

I really want to *write* moar. I'm just....

Not doing writing very well right now. BLAH.

[randomstasis.livejournal.com]

Not really surprising, given the year you've had, I'm surprised you can force your head and hands to work together at all.

But, OTOH, you still produce such gems as *points up and up*
at the drop of a wish, so...you can! and do;)

[tabaqui]

Aw! You make me smile.
:)
*smooch*