(no subject)

A. Feeling a little bit better today. Still not done with the coughing. Might actually venture out of the house tomorrow (for fun and for work), so yay. And I'm back to work on the New Year's Challenge fics I kind of stalled out on.

B. Oleander House = Done. (Though, reading paranormal novels at 3am? Not a good idea. A completely dark room feels oddly creeptastic after that.)

C. Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached. As usual, all Jason/Spinelli.

1. He wants to sleep. God, does he want to sleep, but Jason starts shaking him if he even closes his eyes for more than a few seconds, tells him to stay awake and pay attention, that they’ll stop soon and it’ll be better, he promises. And Spinelli trusts that.

2. Jason finds himself a good hiding spot and pointedly forces himself to ignore the pang of hunger that stabs through him every few seconds. He sits, huddled into himself, licking the blood from his fur – since when does he have fur? – and claws – those are new, too. With a startling amount of self-control and restraint, he stays there until he passes out several hours later, knowing that he never, ever, ever wants this to happen to him again.

3. His attention, terrified and frantic, turns to Spinelli’s prone form on the ground. He’s splattered with zombie brains and if he’s been infected Jason had might as well end it for both of them right now. Somehow. If he could ever manage to bring himself to slay Spinelli.

4. Upon his return to the waiting area, he finds that the hustle and bustle behind the curtain beside Hardison’s has spiked significantly and that a rather thuggish looking figure is lurking just outside of it. Said thuggish figure, Eliot’s trained eyes note, is also apparently armed.

5. Damian Spinelli, half-drowsing in the summer sun, found himself abruptly startled back into total consciousness. His supposed best friend had evidently found it both amusing and necessary to douse his sun warmed skin in comparatively chilly ocean water. Spluttering and shivering at the sudden shock as he pulled his thoroughly soaked long-sleeved surfer shirt away from his skin, he hopped his way out of the trap of a beach chair he’d laid down on some time ago. “That was a most superfluous action, Maximista.”

6. “Wait.” House interrupts, grabbing up the file. The name catches his attention. “The kids name is Damian Spinelli, seriously?”

7. The noises start up again a few minutes later, only this time they’re coming from outside. He can hear odd scratching noises and something that sounds like a cross between laughter and growling. He doesn’t know why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Someone outside of the house could have been causing the majority of this ill-intentioned mischief. Surely some power source is located outside. And the internet lines – they could have messed with Spinelli’s computer that way, right? It doesn’t explain everything, but it explains enough for Jason to risk leaving Spinelli alone to go check out the sounds.

8. There’s indistinguishable radio chatter over some sort of high-tech comm. system, and then the all too recognizable sound of gunfire comes again. All Jason can think is that they had orders to kill Spinelli if they couldn’t take him, but the feel of a bullet ripping through his shoulder - about the only part of him they can get a clear shot at with Spinelli in front of him - tells him otherwise.

9. Through the balcony off-setting their room, Spinelli and Jason stare out at the ocean, stretched out endlessly in front of them. Just blue forever until the horizon line finally turns deep blue water into the light blue sky.

10. This is beyond confusing. Jason Morgan does not do anxious and awkward kissing scenes. At all. Especially with his self proclaimed protégé. Jason is all confidence and the epitome of manliness that his grasshopper has long since been trying to emulate. Despite this distinct contradiction against everything Spinelli thought he knew of his mentor, he nods and then Jason is kissing him again.

11. More and more startling news came up in the course of investigating this nightmare, Jason thought. First, he had to cope with the fact that Spinelli wasn’t the blameless victim of some opportunistic abductor, but rather that he’d put himself in harm’s way with no form of backup. Now, Jason had to process the realization that if he had taken mere moments longer in getting to Spinelli – if he’d so much as taken a wrong turn or waited a bit longer before he started looking – it could have been too late. Spinelli would have been dead. Not only that, but it also meant that Spinelli hadn’t been meant to escape. It meant that Spinelli had seen or heard something that was potentially damning to the man who’d done this, and that meant that Spinelli could still be at risk.

12. Intending to make his escape before Spinelli could wake up, Jason stood, planning to head for the door, but Spinelli was mumbling away again, and a hand shot out from under the covers to catch his wrist. Amongst the incomprehensible babble, was a clear request, “stay.”

(no subject)

A. Feeling a little bit better today. Still not done with the coughing. Might actually venture out of the house tomorrow (for fun and for work), so yay. And I'm back to work on the New Year's Challenge fics I kind of stalled out on.

B. Oleander House = Done. (Though, reading paranormal novels at 3am? Not a good idea. A completely dark room feels oddly creeptastic after that.)

C. Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached. As usual, all Jason/Spinelli.

1. He wants to sleep. God, does he want to sleep, but Jason starts shaking him if he even closes his eyes for more than a few seconds, tells him to stay awake and pay attention, that they’ll stop soon and it’ll be better, he promises. And Spinelli trusts that.

2. Jason finds himself a good hiding spot and pointedly forces himself to ignore the pang of hunger that stabs through him every few seconds. He sits, huddled into himself, licking the blood from his fur – since when does he have fur? – and claws – those are new, too. With a startling amount of self-control and restraint, he stays there until he passes out several hours later, knowing that he never, ever, ever wants this to happen to him again.

3. His attention, terrified and frantic, turns to Spinelli’s prone form on the ground. He’s splattered with zombie brains and if he’s been infected Jason had might as well end it for both of them right now. Somehow. If he could ever manage to bring himself to slay Spinelli.

4. Upon his return to the waiting area, he finds that the hustle and bustle behind the curtain beside Hardison’s has spiked significantly and that a rather thuggish looking figure is lurking just outside of it. Said thuggish figure, Eliot’s trained eyes note, is also apparently armed.

5. Damian Spinelli, half-drowsing in the summer sun, found himself abruptly startled back into total consciousness. His supposed best friend had evidently found it both amusing and necessary to douse his sun warmed skin in comparatively chilly ocean water. Spluttering and shivering at the sudden shock as he pulled his thoroughly soaked long-sleeved surfer shirt away from his skin, he hopped his way out of the trap of a beach chair he’d laid down on some time ago. “That was a most superfluous action, Maximista.”

6. “Wait.” House interrupts, grabbing up the file. The name catches his attention. “The kids name is Damian Spinelli, seriously?”

7. The noises start up again a few minutes later, only this time they’re coming from outside. He can hear odd scratching noises and something that sounds like a cross between laughter and growling. He doesn’t know why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Someone outside of the house could have been causing the majority of this ill-intentioned mischief. Surely some power source is located outside. And the internet lines – they could have messed with Spinelli’s computer that way, right? It doesn’t explain everything, but it explains enough for Jason to risk leaving Spinelli alone to go check out the sounds.

8. There’s indistinguishable radio chatter over some sort of high-tech comm. system, and then the all too recognizable sound of gunfire comes again. All Jason can think is that they had orders to kill Spinelli if they couldn’t take him, but the feel of a bullet ripping through his shoulder - about the only part of him they can get a clear shot at with Spinelli in front of him - tells him otherwise.

9. Through the balcony off-setting their room, Spinelli and Jason stare out at the ocean, stretched out endlessly in front of them. Just blue forever until the horizon line finally turns deep blue water into the light blue sky.

10. This is beyond confusing. Jason Morgan does not do anxious and awkward kissing scenes. At all. Especially with his self proclaimed protégé. Jason is all confidence and the epitome of manliness that his grasshopper has long since been trying to emulate. Despite this distinct contradiction against everything Spinelli thought he knew of his mentor, he nods and then Jason is kissing him again.

11. More and more startling news came up in the course of investigating this nightmare, Jason thought. First, he had to cope with the fact that Spinelli wasn’t the blameless victim of some opportunistic abductor, but rather that he’d put himself in harm’s way with no form of backup. Now, Jason had to process the realization that if he had taken mere moments longer in getting to Spinelli – if he’d so much as taken a wrong turn or waited a bit longer before he started looking – it could have been too late. Spinelli would have been dead. Not only that, but it also meant that Spinelli hadn’t been meant to escape. It meant that Spinelli had seen or heard something that was potentially damning to the man who’d done this, and that meant that Spinelli could still be at risk.

12. Intending to make his escape before Spinelli could wake up, Jason stood, planning to head for the door, but Spinelli was mumbling away again, and a hand shot out from under the covers to catch his wrist. Amongst the incomprehensible babble, was a clear request, “stay.”