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TheZot

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  1. TheZot
    Yesterday was, on the whole, a crap day. Which was kind of strange, because it was also weirdly productive.
     
    The crap part was entirely personal, as we took my dog to the vets and had her euthanized last night. This wasn't something that was unexpected -- she was 16 and had a slowly progressing neurodegenerative problem that was destroying the myelin sheathing around her nerves, and over the weekend we hit the point where she had no control in her hind end and only spotty bladder and bowel control. She was happy and all, but... it was just time. That doesn't make it any better, but she'd already cheated death more often than a hero in a horror movie. You only get to do that so many times.
     
    The productive part was what surprised me -- I did most of the editing of Firegrass, which I finished up and posted this afternoon. That story stars Ben and William, a pair I've posted snippets from here, and will probably post more of at some point later. (And big thanks to Dio and Jason (who'll probably never see he's been thanked here ) for editing) It's easier to rewrite when half your brain's not working, or so it seems. Go figure.
     
    The other productive part was the plotting out of a whole series of short stories, in the tradition of the old pulp fiction action/science hero -- guys like Flash Gordon or Doc Savage. It's a genre that's desperately homoerotic (come on, you can't say otherwise. Strapping muscular action hero who always gets captured, tied up, and 'tortured' by the bad guy, and who's in an unconsumated relationship with his virginal girlfriend? That just screams... well, you can fill in the blanks) and I'd been batting around an idea or two for a while, courtesy of Snowy and Jonathan Coulton, whose song "Skullcrusher Mountain" is an absolute classic. It all pretty much fell into place, though, what with all the turnoil and all. Dunno if it'll go anywhere, as it's not like I've got much time to write what I've already started, let alone more stuff, but...
     
    Oh, and if anyone's got any ideas for appropriately, erm, double entendre-suggesting names for pulp fiction heroes or villains, I'm definitely interested.
  2. TheZot

    Strangest places (part 3)

    By TheZot,

    And here's part 3, the last of what's written. Past the end of this (and yeah, it ends in the middle of a scene) there are some sketched out bits, including my first shot at a tender sex scene which really didn't work, but that's about it.
     
    It does kinda peter out and not wrap up properly. I've always had a problem with endings...
     
    And yeah, I'm still arguing with the rich text editor.
     
    Strangest Places
     
    <h1 style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Scene: Back to school</h1> [Justin]
     
    This was the moment that I was dreading. I'd gotten a few days off from school, and Tristan had stayed with me the whole time, but that couldn't last forever. I was basically OK, at least enough to head back to class. And today was the day. At least it was a Thursday, so things couldn't be too bad for too long.
     
    What made it worse was that the whole school knew what had happened to me, or so Scotty said. That was the one downside to what Mr. C had done, though he probably saved my life. Now everyone knew I was gay. Tristan, though, was his usual cheerful self, and that did help a lot.
     
    Tristan stuck his head in the doorway for a moment. "'Kay, Justin, time to get going!"
     
    "Almost ready!" I had started getting dressed the way I always did for school, but I stopped myself. I'd changed, and I didn't need to hide behind the clothes. Or so I hoped, at least. I had on a grey pocket T-shirt, a pair of cargo pants, and white leather tennis shoes. And I was wearing the bracelet that Tris had picked out for me on my good wrist. The cast was still on, of course, but it was thin enough that it wasn't really getting in the way. I still felt almost naked without my boots, jeans, or leather jacket.
     
    "You look nice," said Tristan, with a kiss, when I walked into the kitchen.
     
    "Thanks," I said, kissing him back. They were just little kisses, but they made me feel better somehow, knowing that Tristan loved me. Tristan grabbed both our books and we drove off to school in silence.
     
    Once we got in we took our time, which was OK with me. My arm was still pretty sore, and I didn't really relish the thought of pushing through the hordes to get to class.
     
    "You look nervous," said Tristan, as we walked.
     
    "Yeah, some," I replied. "Scotty said that everyone knew what happened. It ain't gonna be pretty at times, I think."
     
    "Why?" asked Tris. He sounded puzzled.
     
    "Geez, Tris, you're dense sometimes. Everyone in school knows that my dad beat the shit out of me because I'm gay. Which means that everyone knows that I'm gay. I'm not one of the popular crowd anyway, and there's not going to be a damn thing stopping anyone from f**king around with me. The world's not all that gay-friendly if you hadn't noticed."
     
    "I think maybe you're overreacting. Besides, you've got me."
     
    "You can't be around every minute, though. Sooner or later someone's gonna take a shot just because they can. I mean, look at how you reacted when I kissed you in the park, and you love me. What do you think everyone else is going to do?"
     
    Tristan looked like I slapped him with that last remark, but it was true. He was the nicest guy in school and he still pulled back.
     
    "Just remember your center," said Tristan. "If you can keep that, everything'll work out."
     
    Tris was silent the rest of the way to class, looking like he was deep in thought. Which he probably was, though who knows over what..
     
    "Well, here we are," I said as we approached the classroom. The door was open, and I could hear Mrs. Finney taking roll. We were a minute or so late, but I didn't really care. I took a deep breath and tried to center myself. A little serenity before it all hit the fan wouldn't be a bad thing.
     
    "Tris, my books," I said softly as we stood in front of the door. The whole class could see us, though Finney couldn't. Not that it'd matter much, as she'd give me hell anyway. I think she liked being miserable to me, and my better grades had just pissed her off. "Uh, Tris?" He was looking at me with this funny expression.
     
    While I was expecting several things, including a period of harassment, what I wasn't expecting was what Tristan did. He grabbed me, and kissed me. Passionately. A full-body contact kiss, the kind people do just before they start ripping each other's clothes off. I melted into it and kissed back with vigor. I'd wanted our first real kiss to be special and, damn me if it wasn't. Can't get more special than having the captain of the swim team kiss you full in front of a classful of stunned folks. I could hear the gasps from the room, but I didn't care right then.
     
    Tris broke the kiss, a dopey grin on his face. "See you after class," he said. He tucked a photo in my t-shirt pocket, then turned and loped down the hall. I just watched him go. The lovable doofus.
     
    "If you'd care to join us, Mr. Wright?" The class' reaction must've made Finney notice I was there.
     
    "Oh, right. Sure," I said. I practically floated into the room. Damn that man could kiss. The room was buzzing softly with hushed conversation, but I just didn't care. I'd found my center, and Tristan was it.
     
    I went through class in a lucid daze. I felt like it was all a strange, sorta surreal dream, but I was in control, or at least moving the right ways. Finney tried to trip me up a half-dozen times, but it didn't matter
  3. TheZot

    Strangest places (part 2)

    By TheZot,

    Yep, more of the story I'm not gonna finish (I think). Again, more viewpoint shifts and missing sections, so it's mildly but not entirely comprehensible. And I still seem to be freaking the rich text editor widget out.
     
    Strangest Places
     
    <h1>Scene: The kiss in public</h1> [Justin]
     
    It was a nice day. Spring was coming, and the weather'd turned warm early. Tristan and I had met at the park by the library, and were just sort of hanging out.
     
    "So you planning on going to college?"
     
    "Me? Dunno. Never really thought about it before. Doubt it."
     
    "Why?"
     

     
    <h1>Scene: The beating</h1> [Justin]
     
    {Should this even be in the final version? Might have more impact if it isn't. Hard to say}
     

     
    <h1>Scene: Aftermath</h1> [Tristan]
     
    <Ring!>
     
    I jumped when the phone rang. I'd been dozing in my bedroom, US history putting me to sleep again. It'd been hours since I'd heard from Justin, and I was starting to get worried. I felt kinda bad, since I'd freaked him a little at the park. But we were supposed to be studying for a test next week. I reached over and snagged the phone before the second ring, in case Dad was in the middle of something.
     
    "Speak to me!"
     
    "T-tristan?" I could barely make out the voice on the other end. It was badly muffled and sounded like whoever it was had a mouthful of cotton. Sounded kinda familiar, though.
     
    "Yep, that's me."
     
    There wasn't any response, though I could hear what sounded like ragged breathing.
     
    "Hello? Who is this?" I was starting to wonder if this was one of Scotty's pranks.
     
    "t-t-tristan." The voice came again. It still sounded awful, and was really hard to make out. There was pain in it, though. "help?"
     
    I wracked my brain trying to figure out who it was. They sounded in a bad way, though. "Sure. Who is this?"
     
    A painful sob came from the other end. "n-n-never mind." That's when it hit me who it sounded like.
     
    "Justin? Is that you?"
     
    "y-yeah."
     
    "What happened, man?" Justin had to be in pretty bad shape if I couldn't even recognize his voice on the phone. "You in an accident?" I had a picture of him leaning up against a phone booth, all bloody from a car wreck or something. Smashed up because of me.
     
    "Dad. Hit me."
     
    I went cold then. I'd met Justin's dad a few times, and I didn't like him at all. He was a nasty bastard, and built like a brick. If he'd beaten Justin up he could be in real bad straits.
     
    "Where are you?"
     
    "h-h-home." I knew where Justin lived. It was on the other side of town, but it was late and I could get there in five minutes if I didn't hit traffic or get pulled over.
     
    "Will you be OK until I can get there? Should I call the cops?"
     
    "No!" I could hear the pain in his voice. "n-no cops. I'll be OK."
     
    Like hell, I thought, but I didn't say it. "Hold tight, then. I'll be right over." I hung up the phone, grabbed my jacket off the bed, and ran out of my room.
     
    I took the stairs in three steps, and almost skidded into the wall when I hit the throw rug at the bottom. "Dad! Gotta go! I'll be back in a bit!" I yelled as I careened through the living room and hall towards the garage.
     
    "Hey, hey!" Dad popped his head out of the kitchen. "Slow down, you'll get hurt that way!"
     
    "No time, Dad. Gotta go." I ran past him, but he grabbed my shoulder as I went past. Once he's got a grip on something it won't move unless he wants it to, and I wasn't any exception to that rule.
     
    "Tris! Stop. What's going on?" He looked worried
  4. TheZot
    Yeah, well... me too. Apparently we were both wrong.
     
    I've gotten a number of pieces of criticism about the last two chapters of Yankee. They boil down to two main points:
     
    1) I didn't like the ending
    2) The ending was weakly written
     
    #1 is something to be coped with -- the plot's not going to change. #2, though... unfortunately that second point is a lot more valid than I wanted it to be. The ending of Yankee could have been really strong, but intsead it had Rob kind of wussing out and squeaking away very mouse-like. It just lacked any sort of impact, and it could have had a good one. Not sure I'm up to another chapter with the intensity of chapter 8, but the characters certainly deserve more than what they got.
     
    Yeah, this means the ending's getting rewritten. It'll probably be a little while, but it'll get done, possibly interspersed with chapters of the sequel. No promises on exactly when it'll get done -- I've a half-done piece I want to finish first, and a romance novel I have to write for work -- but it will happen.
  5. TheZot
    I hate it when characters get out of control. Well, mostly, at least. I mean, yes, it's useful sometimes, since it means the words flow faster (woohoo!) but it reaches a point where things just start getting out of hand. I mean, it's bad enough when they start going places and doing things, leaving a trail of plot summaries and partially written chapters in their wake, but now I've sat down and started on detailed character backgrounds.
     
    Ghod, I'm even working on rules for the bloody magic system. (Yes, I am a geek, why do you ask?) I swear, when all this is done I better end up with at least one published novel out of it, or these characters are in so much trouble. If I start drawing out city maps I think it's time for a long vacation.
     
    (I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. At least they've started doing standalone short story things so I can start actually releasing things. With any luck, maybe the end of next week)
     
    Yeah, I know, threatening fictional people isn't exactly the most stable thing to be doing...
  6. TheZot
    Or when they do they just don't come fast enough. Yes, I know I'm kind of whining here. Some days the words just flow out. Those days I like. Some days it's a fight for every word -- fighting against other pieces that want my attention, or fighting against a story that just doesn't want to be told right then. Those days suck.
     
    Today's just one of those annoying days. The story's there, there's no real distraction, the words, they're just coming out in small chunks. At this rate it'll take all week to get the damn story out in first draft. (It only feels like about ten thousand words, it should not take this long)
     
    I hate days like today. Maybe I need to go take a nap or something.
  7. TheZot

    Wedding bells part 3

    By TheZot,

    One last partial chapter dump, so I can clean my brain out and move on to other things. Woohoo! I won't be leaving this story alone (alas the action parts come later and earlier, but aren't actually written) but it is getting set aside for now so I can work on the earlier parts of the series.
     
    This is the third in the set of three I posted. The first one was the middle, and the second the beginning (yay for discontinuity) if you want to go read those. They're all chapter starters and get maybe halfway into the chapter before they stop, leaving the setup but no good stuff, alas. Just big teasers, I guess.
     
    Wedding Bells, part 3
     
    William sat on the rough wood bench and leaned back against the rough-hewn wall behind him. The stones were cold and damp, and the cell stank of urine. He could hear small creatures scrabbling through the moldy straw scattered on the floor, and didn't want to think about what might be living in the bedroll on the pallet in the corner.
     
    One full wall of the cell was open, iron bars criss-crossing the space. The doorway was only a small part of it, just large enough to get a man through, not offering enough space to do anything that might give a prisoner a chance to escape.
     
    William looked at the bracelets locked on his wrists. Five inches long, made of a silvery metal, with eight oblong gemstones set around each. There was a ridge at either end of each bracelet, with a spiderwork tracery of lines covering the metal surface. Both bracelets fit William's wrists snugly, as if they were made for him. There were no seams or signs of joining.
     
    He knew what they were, dampening bracelets used to keep anyone with talent from using magic to escape the jails. The constabulary had been using them for as long as anyone could remember, seven hundred years or more. In all that time there had never been any record of someone prisoned with them using magic to escape. William gave a wry smile, thinking it unlikely that someone would have admitted if it had happened.
     
    Ben? He thought out. Are you OK?
     
    A moment went by before he got an answer. I live, came the thought. William felt a flash of discomfort with it, answered by a surge of his own anger. His husband had been injured somewhere along the way. He fought down an impulse to find out who had done it and hurt them badly.
     
    Do you need any help, he asked instead.
     
    He felt the chuckle in his head. I don't think the guards are likely to be too sympathetic, Ben replied. And there seems to be something between us.
     
    William smiled at Ben's wry observation. He let his Sight slip in and his mind wander, searching for Ben. To his surprise he found him, in the cell next to his, only a foot or two of stone separating them. Sloppy work, the guards were supposed to keep people who had been captured together separated, to prevent them from working together to escape.
     
    The wall had been spelled, traceries of the magic glowing bright in William's Sight, resembling the linework on the bracelets meant to keep him from Seeing, and keep him from working any magic. The wards felt like old friends or an old quilt, comforting in their familiarity. He let his will loose, warping the patterns and shifting the stone. He had never been good at earth magic, but the walls had been spelled so long they were as much magic as physical. A portal the size of a large man shimmered and opened in front of him. On the other side was Ben, watching the wall melt with a little smile on his face.
     
    "Fancy meeting you here," he said, as he stepped through the opening. Once through William let go his control. The magics shifted back and the wall reappeared, unmarked, showing no signs that moments ago there had been a hole in it.
     
    "We really have to find a higher class inn to stay at," William replied, moving in to kiss Ben. For all that the cell was nasty, it wasn't the worst place the two of them had shared since they'd been together.
     
    When they broke the kiss Ben stepped back and sat on the bench.
     
    "I'm surprised," he said, "that you could do that. From what I've heard of this place, I would have expected the jails to be slightly more difficult to get out of."
     
    William sat next to him. "Yes, well," he said, holding up his wrists, "these stop prisoners from working magics, and the walls are well warded." He took Ben's hand in his, twining his fingers together. "Look if you like."
     
    Ben's eyes unfocussed as he stared at the wall next to him. Despite the injury he'd had years ago that took his own Sight, he could share William's talent and shift his vision to higher planes when the two were in close contact. Ben raised his hand into the air, tracing out lines that weren't there.
     
    "Interesting," he said. "A good, solid ward, worked through the wall. It's been there a long time, from the look of things." Ben turned, his eyes focusing on William. He lifted their intertwined hands up, looking at the matching bracelets they both wore.
     
    "The wards and these bracelets are linked somehow," he said. "The resemblance is strong."
     
    William smiled. "Very. The spells on the locks of the door are similar as well. Care to take them off," he asked. "They're fetching, certainly, but they don't suit us."
     
    "No," Ben said, smiling at the man next to him, "the stones don't match your eyes."
     
    Still holding their hands up, he traced the lines of the bracelet on William's wrist, muttering softly, brow furrowed with concentration. A moment later the bracelet shuddered, then fell off William's arm in two pieces. The bracelet on his other wrist gave way at the same time.
     
    "Now that's interesting," William observed. "You shouldn't have been able to do that."
     
    "Oh? And why not," asked Ben, as he traced lines on his own bracelet. His too opened and fell off. This pair had taken less time than the first, even with Ben speaking as he worked the magic that loosened them.
     
    "Well, they're supposed to be effective on anyone but the royal family," he said, looking at Ben. The corner of his mouth ticked up, a half-smile working its way out, "and their consorts, of course."
     
    "Of course," Ben replied, matching the smile. The implication was very clear. "The wall trick was impressive," he said, switching topics. "I hadn't realized that you were so adept with earth magics. That would've been handy when we were dealing with the D'zgan tunnel worms.
     
    William blushed and ducked his head, feeling embarrassed like he'd just been caught cheating. "Um," he said, "I'm not that good." He looked up and caught Ben smiling at him. He knew he'd just been caught out, though Ben was far from angry. "The walls
  8. TheZot

    Wedding bells, part .5

    By TheZot,

    These darned characters need to leave me alone, they really do. I think. (I'm not sure, it is fun being able to sit down and bang out a lot of text)
     
    Anyway, I think I can ignore this story for right now and work on the things that come earlier. Since that means this'll likely get ignored for a year or two I'm splatting it out here, well, just because. Probably splat out the beginning of the third chapter soon as well, since that's close to being set-aside-able.
     
    This is uneditited, even by me, just a rough first draft, so don't be surprised if the punctuation's odd or parts read a little funny. I tend to bounce around and sometimes reuse phrasing inadvertently.
    Wedding Bells, part .5
     
    The Crown and Stone respectfully require, on this the one year anniversary of your betrothal, the presence of you and your intended, for the recognition of your union, in the presence of the symbols and kingdom of Ventania.
     
    William looked with bemusement at the parchment in his hand, before he burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face. The messenger looked on with bemusement, wondering if perhaps he'd delivered to someone who'd gone mad.
     
    William? What's so funny? William could feel Ben's puzzlement in his head.
     
    We've just received an invitation to a wedding, William replied, wiping the tears from his eyes.
     
    Whose?
     
    Ours, love.
     
    "What?" Ben's voice rang out from behind William. He turned and saw Ben, standing midway down the stairs, looking surprised. The long leather apron he was wearing showed signs of recent scorching, the goggles dangling from around his neck had spatters of orange glowing goo on them. His face was spattered with goo as well, leaving him looking owlish, the tan skin around his eyes showing in dark contrast to the fluorescent orange on the rest of his face. Strands of long black hair escaped from the braid he wore and arched forward, a few of them stuck to his cheeks by the slime he was wearing.
     
    "We just got our wedding invitation," William said with a grin, waving the paper at Ben. He'd managed to stop laughing, but just barely. "I like the orange," he added. "It suits you."
     
    Ben scowled in response. "It suits you better," said Ben, reaching down and leaving a smear on each cheek and across his forehead. Ben was right, the glowing orange streaks setting off the lavender of William's eyes and the white of his hair, pulled back like Ben's, though held together by a strip of leather rather than a braid.
     
    William caught the scent of citrus and sniffed. "What were you brewing back in the workshop?" He frowned suddenly. The orange slime bore a striking resemblance to fire daemon ichor, and Ben had been working on bottles to hold reactive potions in stasis. "This stuff won't burst into flames or explode, will it?"
     
    "No, it's
  9. TheZot
    The problem with having a good setting and characters you like is that they tend to get out of hand. You think that you've got things under control and pretty much ready to go and... ha! Surprises happen and it turns out that you don't.
     
    I've a pair of characters, Ben and William, I very much like. They're sweet and sappy, and when circumstances call for it can kick much ass and wreak massive amounts of mayhem, which is always good for some fun. (They're the two in the Wedding Bells snippet I posted a while back) They first got worked out a year and a half ago according to Word's timestamp on the file -- nothing fancy, just two guys who start out not liking each other trapped in a cabin for a couple of weeks and ultimately get together. More a character piece than a plot one, but it was nice if unexciting, and I kind of liked it, and the characters.
     
    I never got very far on them, since the story was a pain to work on, and I had other things I was concentrating on (like Yankee, which I'm having a heck of a time finishing up, but that's neither here nor there) so they were tabled along with a lot of other pieces. They had a lot more potential, though.
     
    Then a few months ago (Well, OK, six months ago) Myr was complaining a bit about the lack of good fantasy pieces, and I had an idea that worked out well with Ben and William, so I sat down and plotted it out. That story, it turned out, introduced a pair of other characters, so over the next few months I ended up with three more stories -- one each where the two characters get introduced, and a third where they have a fairly harrowing adventure of their own. (Those are only partially plotted, I'm trying not to think about them)
     
    Well, fast forward to thanksgiving, when Yankee looked like it was going to wrap up soon (ha!) and I was trying to work out what to do next. I'd been fiddling with the fantasy piece, and ended up sending what I'd gotten done on it and the background material off to Dio for poking at. He promptly went missing for a few weeks, but when he got back he tore the plot synopsis apart -- which it deserved -- and made a bunch of suggestions and asked a lot of questions.
     
    All that was good, since the plot really was pretty nonexistent. Rewrote the synopsis and sent it off for a second look-see (at which point he got sick. I think I may stop sending him things before his fans hunt me down and hurt me) and put it aside.
     
    This is where the characters taking over comes in. I wanted to wait but they don't -- I ended up burning most of a day banging out a few thousand words of plot synopsis (which doesn't bode well for the thing's length, given that it's not in much detail) and since then another 3500 words of the first three chapters (none of which are anywhere near done). That made me think that maybe I ought to wait a bit -- writing the fourth novel in the series first seems a bit ill-advised, though I'm doing it anyway since the words are flowing. Unfortunately all that putting it aside has done is bring out another 1300 words worth of summary on yet another story, though at least this one should be shorter and the second in order.
     
    I swear, I think I need to drug these guys up -- they're getting too damn busy. At least the action flows pretty fast as do the words when they get going. That's something, I guess...
  10. TheZot
    I've got a houseful of sick people (including me, though not nearly as badly as everyone else) so I've been up weird hours and bored to death, though not actually competent to do anything useful like write. Trolling the shub-internet's a dodgy thing at the best of times, but at 3 AM, well...
     
    Anyway, courtesy of the top site list, I found Wizard and Warrior. And some other stuff that was pretty darned good, but that's for another time.
     
    It's a Michael Moorcock riff, and a damned good one. Blood and thunder, sex and enthusiasm, the thing just screams with energy, and that's during the quiet parts. Yeah, the formatting of the first chapter or two makes some parts a little odd, yeah it needs editing like most net fiction, yeah a dozen chapters in it shifts first person viewpoints occasionally, and yeah it yanks in some gaming references (christ on a crutch, people, if you want elves that want to get laid worse than a kid in a porn shop, and will cheerfully gut you and read the future in your entrails to you, you don't need D&D you need Yates) but still, it works, as cheerfully decadent and unabasahedly proud of its warts as the source it hearkens back to. The only problem is that it's not done yet.
     
    It's OK if you don't like it. I do. And you have no idea how much I wish I could write like that.
     
    Besides, there's Samurai Cat artwork mocking a classic Frazetta piece. How can you not like that?
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