It's been ten days since I posted anything here. Also, by coincidence, I just counted and I've now got rather more than ten unfinished fragments and works-in-(not-much)-progress in my fic folder. Now there was a recent meme where people posted scraps from their unfinished fics... I was dubious about participating because, well, the last thing I want is people saying "That sounds good, you should finish writing that one!" when the whole point is, I can't finish it because I ran out of inspiration half-way through, and if I could finish it, I would have. :-(
But then I thought, why not turn it around? So, here's scraps from ten unfinished fics... and my challenge to you, O Flist, is to tell me how and where you think the story is going to end up after this scene. Bonus points for silly solutions; this is more for fun rather than a serious request for advice or anything...
She moves across the snow-white plain like a drop of blood trailing down a perfect pale neck. A tiny figure, alone and lost in the vastness of infinity, but the eyes of a million million souls watch her as she passes. In that sea of perfection her movements are halting, clumsy and merely human. She is limping slightly, occasionally lifting her left hand to brush dirty brown hair out of her eyes; but in her right hand, her grip on the glittering red and silver weapon never once falters. Her lips are set in a thin line of determination, and the cold fire burning in her eyes would set fear in the hearts of angels.
As he spoke he was pulling off his shirt and removing the heavy iron suit of mail he wore beneath it; the weight and noise would only hinder him as he went to hunt for prey. Stripped down to loincloth and sandles, his naturally pale skin tanned a deep brown by the warm southern sun, he looked like a ghost of the forest in the shadows. Willow looked up, saw his near-nakedness, blushed and ducked her head back down, concentrating on the pile of firewood she was putting together. He sighed.
And without another word she was scrambling off Willow and walking over to the cupboard where she kept her magical supplies. Willow watched her go, thinking rather sulkily "This had better be a really good spell." But Tara kept glancing back at her over her shoulder and grinning mischeviously, looking as if she could barely suppress outright laughter over her girlfriend's expression. Willow wasn't stupid; she knew something was up, and she began to feel interested and even excited despite herself.
Usually she was fast asleep by the time Buffy came back from patrol. It was a hot night tonight, though, and Willow had been tossing and turning unable to drop off. And so she was in that state halfway between sleeping and waking when she heard the door click open and light footsteps entering the room. Her pulse raced for a moment until she recognised the sound of her best friend's breathing, the little mutter of annoyance she made as her hand failed to find her washbag on the shelf next to the door. But then she'd got it, and was gone in the direction of the bathrooms, and Willow rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
"You know that wasn't a freak punch. Blondie knew what she was doing. She just didn't expect Echo to go down so hard."
"And you're not telling this to Boyd because...?"
"We signed a contract with our Actives. Mr Langton does not need to know, therefore he doesn't."
Topher walked over to look at the image of the young woman still on the screen.
"Isn't there only supposed to be one of them at once?"
"It's a puzzle, isn't it? One which merits further investigation."
Her smile was cold as she nodded to Topher in dismissal, and turned back to her desk.
Here there was a brief moment of awkwardness because Kennedy couldn't quite get the door open with both arms full of wriggly redhead, so Willow had to reach down and turn the knob herself. Then they were through the doorway, and Kennedy whirled around and threw her onto the bed - quite literally; Willow bounced at least twice as she hit the duvet. Her lover launched herself straight after, landing on top of Willow and gazing down at her from just inches away, and Willow looked up into her cheeky grin and intense, uncomplicated gaze and let herself surrender to the moment.
"We Guardians have protected humanity since the days of the Great Ice, when Teferi almost destroyed the world, and our secrets must not be lost. Assuming you don't manage to get yourself killed in the meantime, someday it will be your turn to pass on the heritage to new Chosen Ones."
"A-and there is some magic anyone can do." That was Misgana, stammering slightly in her nervousness at speaking up. "The farspeech ritual, for example. Y-you just need the right tools, b-blessed by someone with the Power."
"And there's the Great Summoning, of course. We can all do that." Haymanot was as brash as ever, but she earned a reproving stare from Kelile for her interjection.
Buffy smiled and nodded, but puzzlement lingered in her eyes. "But does that mean you didn't love Oz? You seemed so heartbroken when he left."
"Of course I loved him. Why would you think I didn't? He was sweet and kind and considerate, and we could talk all night--" Buffy looked incredulous at that, and Willow choked off a giggle. "Okay, I could talk all night and he would listen really intently and occasionally say something profound. But we could talk about anything, from, y'know, computer science to the meaning of life, and Oz always had an intelligent opinion about everything. We just matched, and I once thought we'd be together until we grew old, sitting on our porch together discussing, uh, whatever people in the future would talk about. How to build a better jetpack or hover car."
“Buffy? Buffy, what’s wrong? Oh God, has something broken in to… oh.” As Buffy swung the bedroom door open her sister’s panicky expression settled back into her more usual disgusted-at-the-world look. “Huh. From the noise I thought something was trying to eat you.”
“And you came rushing over to help? In your pyjamas, without any weapons or anything? That’s sweet, Dawn.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t say I was going to help you. I was totally going to help the demon.” As Buffy’s bedraggled state sank in, though, a note of concern crept back into her voice. “Are you OK? Another bad dream, huh?”
"Speaking of stakes, have you ever..." Willow's voice went low and conspiratorial, and her eyes danced wickedly, "...used one? Like that?"
"Willow! I'm shocked! That's kinky and disgusting, a stake's the Slayer's weapon, you use it to kill things, you can't, you know..."
"So you have, huh?"