Forever Curious

Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations. No more than one sentence!


- They stopped before a fork in the road, and one fate turned her dark head to the other, her eyes troubled.

- “Even you, Severus Snape, the most argumentative of my patients ever—” She tied off the dressing and secured it with a charm, “—aren’t going to leave here until tomorrow morning at the earliest, because whatever excrement they’d been feeding you in that place isn’t fit for a misbehaving crup.”

- His quiet voice grounded her, guarded her from the accusing what-ifs.

- Mobs, he’d learned, possessed a distinctive scent: An intoxicating blend of anger, bloodlust, and adrenaline.

- He hadn't had time to clean up, and there were hippogryff feathers in his hair, which hung down to obscure his sunken cheeks.

*flails*

I signed up! Sort of. It's informal for now, which means I'm not really committed and can back out, but this counts for something, right?

I normally avoid fests, because I get panicky about deadlines and freeze up, but this way I can get a significant portion of the fic done before the formal sign-up - which for me means beta-ready, and panic shall not be an issue. Also, I loved their FAQ.

Option #1:

6500 / 20000 words. 33% done!

and Option #2:

2000 / 20000 words. 10% done!

I haven't settled on one or the other just yet, but I'm leaning heavily toward Option #1 right now - I've a better idea where the story's going, and it already has smut.

Some of us need bunnies. Our bunny post is here. Pretty please?

But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master - something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. He may lay down rules and devise principles, and to rules and principles it will perhaps for years lie in subjection; and then, haply without any warning of revolt, there comes a time when it will no longer consent to 'harrow the vallies, or be bound with a band in the furrow' - when it laughs at the multitude of the city, and regards not the crying of the driver - when, refusing absolutely to make ropes out of sea-sand any longer, it sets to work on statue-hewing, and you have a Pluto or a Jove, a Tisiphone, or a Psyche, a Mermaid or a Madonna, as Fate or Inspiration direct. Be the work grim or glorious, dread or divine, you have little choice left but quiescent adoption. As for you - the nominal artist - your share in it has been to work passively under dictates you neither delivered nor could question - that would not be uttered at your prayer, nor suppressed nor changed at your caprice. If the result be attractive, the World will praise you, who little deserve praise; if it be repulsive, the same World will blame you, who almost as little deserve blame.

-Charlotte Bronte, 1850 preface to Wuthering Heights

I'm four pages in, and Heathcliff wears Snape's face most of the time. *love*