Project Promo post

[ladiesbigbangmod]

Hey, creators! Got some tidbit of your project that you'd like to share with us? This is the place for it.

This is a post where creators can post a small preview/snippet of their work (e.g. a handful of icons, a scene of fic, some thumbnails of graphics, etc.). You're also welcome to summarize your project if that's more your style.

If you're not sure if what you're working on at this point will be what you turn in at the end, that's fine, we're not going to check. This is just a place to share some of what you've got.

And chatting amongst yourselves in the comments is, as always, encouraged!

Comments

[trascendenza]

Welll, it's looking like my original idea is derailing, so I think I'll post a snippet of this instead since it's looking more likely I'll be able to finish this one.

Psych, implied Juliet/Gus, the one where Juliet becomes even more awesome.

*

"Juliet?" he said, groggily, blinking up at her. "What happened?"

"Hey," she said, leaning back on her heels. "You fainted."

"Fai--" he laughed, scoffing a little. "I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Nooo," she said, "I levitated off the ground, your eyes rolled back in your head and you passed out."

Gus suddenly sprung up like he was spring-loaded at the waist, grabbing Juliet’s hands in his. He looked at her with the utmost intensity, every feature exaggerated in an awestruck configuration. “Juliet Dover O’Hara. You flew.”

“Yes,” she said, a smile pulling so hard at her cheeks they felt strained, because, yeah, she had flown. “Yes, I totally did!”

“Oh my God!” Gus exclaimed, and he began to bounce, which started a chain reaction of Juliet bouncing in return, because holy crap, even with the broken bed and the empty kitchen and the weirdness and suddenness of it all, apparently she now had a super power, which had such a high coolness factor she wasn’t even sure how to parse it.

Somewhere in the process of their shared squealing and flailing into each other, they rose to a standing position, bouncing up and down like two geeky, joyful pogo sticks.

[softestbullet]

:D :D!!!

[trascendenza]

I'm really hoping I can finish this one!

[softestbullet]

Me too! *sends good luck*

[naraht]

Hilda Tablet (eminent twelve-tone composeress) and Elsa Strauss (her companion, soprano, and muse) are invited by Benjamin Britten to the upcoming Aldeburgh Festival....

***

And then, just as the scratchy sounds of the Kolisch Quartet began to drift in from the sitting room, the telephone rang. Elsa picked it up in the hallway.

"Why hello Benjamin," she said, intoning a recitative into the instrument. "We were just talking about you."

"Speak of the devil," said Hilda, sotto voce. Then, louder: "the phone, if you please."

Its long cord just reached into the bedroom from the hall. Having brought the phone, Elsa sat on the edge of the bed, her head tilted to one side as she listened to Hilda's side of the conversation.

"Hello there, Ben, old chap. Yes... yes... oh dear... no... no... of course... well naturally... I can think of just the piece."

Covering the receiver with her hand, she mouthed one word: "festival!" Then she returned to her conversation.

"Tomorrow morning? We shall catch the very first train... Delighted to step into the breach, absolutely delighted... Pneumonia is so very inconvenient, isn't it, especially in a singer?... How inconsiderate of her... Give all my love to Imogen... and to Peter of course... Toodle-oo!"

Unable to decisively hang up the phone, she thrust it back into Elsa's hands.

"We're going to the Aldeburgh Festival, my girl."

Elsa could have looked more enthusiastic at the news. "Why does nobody ever ask me to come to Bayreuth?" she asked mournfully.

"Lack of taste. It can be nothing else. But never you mind."

Elsa, who had always fancied herself as Brunhilde, nodded sadly.

"Ben may be an old stick-in-the-mud but occasionally he has a spot of good sense. His perishing lead soprano, whoever she is, has had the cheek to come down with pneumonia at the very last moment. I never thought much of the English Opera Group. He hasn't anyone else who could do it. It's only Acis and Galatea. I told him we would be delighted to oblige."

"We?"

"You, my little cupcake, you and your glorious voice."

"A week from now?"

"When else?" said Hilda. "Buck up, Elsa, it's only Baroque. You could sing it in your sleep. And the beauty of the thing is that he's invited us to perform my Song Cycle as well. That's one in the eye to the Wigmore Hall, don't you know? It's the only reason that I said yes."

"That and the fact that Imogen will be there."

"That and the fact that... oh Elsa," said Hilda reproachfully.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

Elsa sighed. "Never mind. We leave tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning," Hilda confirmed. "In the mean time, dearest... shall we have the Schoenberg again?"

[shanaqui]

Mine is Supernatural AU, from pre-series, where Cassie ends up joining Dean and John. This is an early scene. Not edited at all yet!

---

When she gets back to the motel, the Impala's there. Cassie can't help a weird lurch in her heart -- or is it her stomach? the meal wasn't as edible as she could have wished -- when she sees it. She's got butterflies when she goes up to knock on the door, which is stupid, but there it is. She wonders if Dean really expected her to follow, if he's really expecting to see her.

She guesses she'll find out, in a moment.

There's a long pause before the door opens, during which her stomach cramps horribly, and then the other guy from the graveyard, Dean's dad, opens the door. He looks her up and down with suspicion, and she feels weirdly naked under his eyes, and weirdly like an object: like she's being assessed for her worth. She almost jumps when he speaks, a low rumble that makes her think of thunder: "You lookin' for someone?"

"Dean Winchester," she says, as clearly as she can.

The man frowns. "Saw you, before, in..."

"Athens, Ohio."

"Why'd you follow us?" he asks. He looks past her, now, searching the car park and then looking at her again, secretive, angry. "What are you doing?" He turns to look into the room. "Dean, why did you tell this girl where to find us?"

"I didn't tell any girl to follow us," Dean says, from somewhere in the depths of the motel room, "I wouldn -- wait." He comes to the door now, looks past his father. For a moment he seems paralysed at the sight of her and then he says, slowly, incredulously, "Cassie."

"'Cassie'?" his dad asks, mocking his tone.

"Forgotten me already?" she asks, surprised at how cool her voice is now.

"Like I would," Dean says, with one of his all too glib grins. "You're unforgettable."

"I'll let you two have a chat and get reacquainted," his dad says, pushing past Cassie. "Give me the keys, boy."

Dean tosses them to him easily, without even looking. "Didn't think you'd follow me," he says, to Cassie.

"Why'd you give me the coordinates, then?"

"I..." Dean waits until his dad's out of earshot and then jerks his head back at the room. "Come on in."

Cassie follows him into the room. There's a mess on the table, a pile of newspaper cuttings and scraps of paper with notes on. It's professional curiosity that makes her go over to see what kind of story they're making of it. Dean watches her warily.

"He probably thinks you got me pregnant," she says, without looking at him. "That happen before?"

"There might be a couple of little Deans wandering around, but none of the mothers would know where to find me," Dean says, shrugging. That makes her angrier, somehow.

"And if I was pregnant? If that was why I was trying to find you?"

"You aren't, though. We were careful."

She answers him with silence. He comes across the room, reaching out for her, and then stopping.

"You aren't, are you? That isn't why you followed me?"

She lets him stew in it for a minute more, and then shakes her head. "No, I'm not pregnant. I followed you to find out more about all of this."

"It's not safe," he says, like he's going to baulk now and not show her what she came all this way to see. Like he doesn't trust her to hold her own.

She turns to him, head held high. "To hell with safe," she snaps, and is surprised by the way he grins back at her.

"Okay," he says. "To hell with safe. You want proof? I'll show you proof."

[snow]

Ashika is a newly-elected Conservative MP. Scott is her boyfriend; Danny is Scott's brother. Once upon a time, before Ashika and Scott got together, Ashika was sleeping with her boss, (a married MP) James. She was running as the Conservative candidate in a by-election when Danny found out about the affair and leaked it to the papers.

**

"I hate to tell you," Ashika said, sipping the coffee only to find it was still not yet cool enough to drink, "But I think Danny lied to you. I can't see that kind of contract being approved."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Scott muttered.

Ashika blew on the coffee in the hopes that it would be drinkable soon. "Shouldn't his hours be dramatically down, now that he's working for an opposition backbencher?"

"You know Danny," Scott said, and it was a clear no.

"Not really," Ashika said, deciding that burning her tongue was worth it for the delicious taste of strong coffee.

"Then you should really get to know him better. If you're okay with that."

Ashika wasn't ever going to forgive Danny for ruining her first chance at elected office, but that didn't preclude her from being civil. After all, James was just as much at fault, if not more, and Ashika still put a smile on her face every time she passed him in the halls. She also had no problem looking herself in the mirror in the morning. "Yeah, that'd be fine," she said.

Scott was busy looking thoughtful, so Ashika took another sip of her coffee. She started to feel guilty for the time she'd stood in the entry, instead of moving on with work, until she scolded herself. She could take twenty minutes. Hell, she could take an hour if she wanted to. Or even the whole evening off, though Ashika felt the burden of her position too much to actually want to do that. She was sure that at some point she'd back off with her work and delegate more, but at the moment every letter she wrote to a constituent made her feel like she was accomplishing something, every interview she gave made her feel like she was important.

"Perhaps we'll invite him and his boyfriend 'round," Scott suggested. Ashika frowned at him. "If that wouldn't be a problem," he hastily added.

Ashika would laugh if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't actually funny that Scott still thought she was socially regressive just because she was a Tory. She also wasn't very happy that he was willing to so easily set aside his brother's comfort in favour of hers. It made her feel uncomfortable for a reason she couldn't quite define. "It's not a problem," she said. "I just thought you said your fight with him was over a girl."

"Oh, it was," Scott said.

Ashika lifted her eyebrows, but no explanation was forthcoming.

[ranrata]

Dollhouse, centered on Loomis (see icon; I think I'm the only one who remembers her) and Ivy, and takes place between Rossum getting blown up and the thoughtpocalypse.

-

Ivy winds up at a pharmaceutical company based in the east coast; the work, the hours, and the people there are all normal, and though she’d hate to admit it, also painfully dull. For the first time, Ivy wonders if this is how the actives feel once they have fulfilled their contract; almost like she wants to go back to the Dollhouse, as much as she can’t go running screaming from the place any faster or further than she already has.

But Ivy keeps to her plan, and keeps from indulging in her curiosity as to what the others are up to these days, living in a future that would have looked very different if not for them. It’s hard to imagine, say, Topher and DeWitt existing outside the walls of the Dollhouse, but surely they must, even it’s just barely, like she is doing.

Drive home. Eat dinner. Go to sleep. Wake up and start over again.

It’ll feel right after a while.

It has to.

[goodbyebird]

You're definitely not the only one. I was sad when she didn't return. Like your snippet :)

[woldy]

Merlin, Gwen/Morgana contemporary AU in which the course of love does not run smooth


Until it happens to you, the question of what to do when you're unexpectedly confronted with an ex seems abstract and irrelevant. It's like a Sex and the City storyline, something she and Morgana might have laughed about once as they sprawled on the bed with mugs of red wine to watch Carrie being an idiot on somebody's laptop. During one episode Morgana interrupted with a diatribe about Schopenhauer, and they'd had bullshit debate about the merits of postmodernism. When Gwen was drunk, nineteen, and in love for the first time, the idea of being single and heartbroken had seemed impossible.

If this was a plot from Sex and the City then she would have a table full of girlfriends waiting in a cafe to talk over every detail and help her come up with a quip for her column. If she was Carrie, then Gwen would be wearing a thousand dollar outfit and sighing over Mr Big in his limo, not immobilized by the sight of her ex-girlfriend in the frozen food isle of Safeway. Real life, Gwen realized, was nothing like television.

If she left now, Gwen might still escape without Morgana seeing her. But what if Morgana saw her leaving and didn't even care enough to follow her? Or caught her in the act of running away, necessitating some kind of horribly awkward conversation about -

Morgana looked up, a package of frozen peas clutched in her hand, and saw Gwen. Morgana's eyes widened and Gwen turned, abandoning the shopping trolley, and fled.

[sophinisba]

((((GWEN))))

[goodbyebird]

Working on a bigger canvas is as big a challenge as I expected, but at least I'm making headway. My hand's feeling better, so I might even have a go at my tablet :)