Whee! And double whee!
Mar. 10th, 2004 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
donnaimmaculataI've just come back from a one week's absence and, on catching up with my flist, was more than happy to realise that the deadline for CCC was extended. Whee! See, when I started writing my fic, I made the huge mistake of not having re-read Tom Sawyer beforehand in total. I was re-reading it gradually as I proceeded and when I came to the graveyard episode, which is somewhat of a turning point in the novel, I came across a character called Potter. Muff Potter. I had completely forgotten the man's name, and of course I had to use it in my adaptation. Muff Potter's part had to be assumed by the Potterverse's Potter. Which introduced a rather unexpected twist into the story - because of what Muff Potter does and how Tom and Huck get involved. Tom's player in my version is hardly a young and easily intimidated boy, and I needed a Very Good Explanation to make his behaviour parallel that of Tom. It took me one hour to work it all out (work out the basic concept, mind, not write the bloody scene), but now it's all settled and I am rather proud. *is very pleased with her own cleverness* There is a serious plot hole in the concept, but since it is explained away by Dumbledore, I found it was very much IC and very, well, canonical.
Anyway, I had hardly dared hope I could finish it by Monday, let alone have it beta-read. Now, all is well.
The second Whee! is because: My Snack is back!
Some of you might remember me whining about having lost my Snape/Black-on-a-tropical-island fic a few months ago. Yesterday, I found a copy on a floppy disk. Whee!
Because I am in a happy mood, I give you an excerpt from the tropical island adventure. It was written as a response to the challenge "During late night explorations of the castle, Snape discovers a secret door. He ends up on a tropical island and finds Sirius Black asleep on the beach" and is completely and utterly unrevised and unbeta'd.
Quickening his pace, he swept around a corner, pulling his long black cloak tightly around himself. The dense stone walls never let much warmth into the castle, but they seemed to let in cold easily. In the next moment, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head sharply just in time to see a small figure disappear behind the next corner. A student, no older than a first-year from the look of her, strolling arond the castle in the dead of night. She was in for a long, painful detention.
But not even Snape’s pleasure about being able to deduce two-digit amounts of house points could lessen his increasing feeling of foreboding. Something was most certainly dubious. He did not like how the air around him felt.
Following the girl, he swiftly crossed a room all hung with green, with a harp in one corner, walked three steps down and five steps up, and came to a little upstairs hall and a door that led out on to a balcony. The girl was steadily ahead of him, and he certainly was not going to undermine his authority by actually running after her. Nor shouting.
Instead, he pulled out his wand.
Something about that girl was definitely odd. She seemed not to notice that he had been following her for some time now, and it struck him that she did not seem to be able to see him at all. She looked harmless and human enough, but who knew which disguise they might assume, the demons and phantoms that were creeping out of their holes, now that the Dark Lord had risen again?
He passed through a whole series of rooms that led into each other and finally ended in a huge room that was quite empty except for one big wardrobe with a looking-glass in the door. There was nothing else in the room at all except a dead bluebottle on the window-sill.
Snape hesitated for only a fraction of a second, amazed by the utterly infamiliar appearance of the room, but it was enough for the girl to vanish again. He looked around to find the hem of her skirt disappearing in the wardrobe. Aha!
Silently, he crept to the wardrobe, his wand raised, his senses heightened to catch anything unusual. Snape came to a halt right at the wooden door, pondered for a second, and pulled the door open-
Nothing.
Nothing. No cowering first-year, scared out of her senses by the presence of the intimidating Potions master, no frightful demon poised to charge, not even a stray cat. Just the strong smell of mothballs and some fur coats hanging neatly on the peg.
His wand still raised, Snape pushed the coats apart, looking between them. Nothing. But there was another row of coats hanging behind the first. The girl might be hidden behind them.
"Come out, little girl," he whispered softly - and startled by the sound of his own voice. In the huge, empty room, the echo magnified his soft whisper to a hoarse rasp. Little wonder the child did not want to leave its hiding place.
Snape gave an impatient hiss and narrowed his eyes in disgust. He took a deep breath, pushed the coats further apart, and stepped into the wardrobe. Soft fur slid over his face. Snape recoiled, shuddering.
There was hardly anything in the world Severus Snape disliked more than the smell and feel of fur. His analytic mind would not allow him to see anything else in fur than what it was: dead animals. Dead, slaughtered, skinned, stitched-together animals, and although he had no objections whatsoever to kill spiders and pickle frog brain, he did not like having any dead bodies anywhere near his face. It made his skin crawl.
To his great surprise, the little girl was not cowering at the back wall of the wardrobe, either. In fact, it almost seemed as though the wardrobe had no back wall at all. Snape squinted his eyes and used his free hand to feel his way in the darkness. Instinctively, he reached out with his other hand, holding the wand in a tight grip, and closed the door behind himself. It was never wise to have an open door in one’s back on unknown territory.
Before he could cast a Lumos in the pitch-blackness, he notices a faint shimmer of light in front of him and took another step forward. In the next moment, he was toppling out of the wardrobe as though an invisible hand had pushed him, momentarily blinded by the sharp sunlight, his wand arm raised in defense.
Snape stumbled sidewards, regained his equilibrium within a few seconds, and stopped dead in an awkward position, half-crouching, his shoulders drawn tight. Ink-black tendrils were dangling in front of his face like an oily curtain. He swept them back impatiently. And took in a deep, steadying breath.
"What devilry..." he muttered, looking around warily. Before his eyes, the most idyllic scenario was spread out like a feast; tall palm trees whispering in the soft breeze, a clear, deep blue ocean sending playfull waves to the beach, where they danced over round stones and broke on small rocks, pink and mother-of-pearl coloured shells scattered across the obscenly white sand, a stream making its cheerful way from the patch of dark green trees into the sea, birds singing in trilling, sweet voices in the trees, and for a moment, Snape was almost ready to swear he saw a doe grazing peacefully under the blossoming sycamore tree to his right. He looked closer, shading his eyes from the light (he was already feeling a headache building up) and to his relief realised that his eyes must have played him a trick. Does hardly lived in palm forrests, he reminded himself, glad to find a rational thought to cling to.
There was another shape, however, that required his closer inspection. It looked as though someone was lying there, in the shade of a large tree. He pulled his right foot out of the sand, his mouth curving up with disgust, and made towards the solitary figure in the distance.
Walking in the fine sand was a nightmare. His feet slipped from under him every time he tried to take up his usual, swift, purposeful pace, and he was forced to slow down as not to slip and slide in an undignified way.
Yes, there was definitely a person lying there. A man.
Snape never abandoned his caution when he approached the still figure until he stood merely a few feet away. Then, his heart gave an enourmous thump, and he froze in mid-step.
Sirius Black!
Sirius Black.
Snape stared. That was not possible. Black was dead, and he, Snape, was in his dungeon bedroom, experiencing a nightmare beyond belief. The heat was closing on him, around him, and he opened his mouth to catch air. Sweat was burning in his eyes. His hand closed automatically on his wand, and he realised with disgust that his palm was moist and sticky.
"Not real," he muttered to himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. "Not real!"
Back to catching up with flist.
Anyway, I had hardly dared hope I could finish it by Monday, let alone have it beta-read. Now, all is well.
The second Whee! is because: My Snack is back!
Some of you might remember me whining about having lost my Snape/Black-on-a-tropical-island fic a few months ago. Yesterday, I found a copy on a floppy disk. Whee!
Because I am in a happy mood, I give you an excerpt from the tropical island adventure. It was written as a response to the challenge "During late night explorations of the castle, Snape discovers a secret door. He ends up on a tropical island and finds Sirius Black asleep on the beach" and is completely and utterly unrevised and unbeta'd.
Quickening his pace, he swept around a corner, pulling his long black cloak tightly around himself. The dense stone walls never let much warmth into the castle, but they seemed to let in cold easily. In the next moment, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head sharply just in time to see a small figure disappear behind the next corner. A student, no older than a first-year from the look of her, strolling arond the castle in the dead of night. She was in for a long, painful detention.
But not even Snape’s pleasure about being able to deduce two-digit amounts of house points could lessen his increasing feeling of foreboding. Something was most certainly dubious. He did not like how the air around him felt.
Following the girl, he swiftly crossed a room all hung with green, with a harp in one corner, walked three steps down and five steps up, and came to a little upstairs hall and a door that led out on to a balcony. The girl was steadily ahead of him, and he certainly was not going to undermine his authority by actually running after her. Nor shouting.
Instead, he pulled out his wand.
Something about that girl was definitely odd. She seemed not to notice that he had been following her for some time now, and it struck him that she did not seem to be able to see him at all. She looked harmless and human enough, but who knew which disguise they might assume, the demons and phantoms that were creeping out of their holes, now that the Dark Lord had risen again?
He passed through a whole series of rooms that led into each other and finally ended in a huge room that was quite empty except for one big wardrobe with a looking-glass in the door. There was nothing else in the room at all except a dead bluebottle on the window-sill.
Snape hesitated for only a fraction of a second, amazed by the utterly infamiliar appearance of the room, but it was enough for the girl to vanish again. He looked around to find the hem of her skirt disappearing in the wardrobe. Aha!
Silently, he crept to the wardrobe, his wand raised, his senses heightened to catch anything unusual. Snape came to a halt right at the wooden door, pondered for a second, and pulled the door open-
Nothing.
Nothing. No cowering first-year, scared out of her senses by the presence of the intimidating Potions master, no frightful demon poised to charge, not even a stray cat. Just the strong smell of mothballs and some fur coats hanging neatly on the peg.
His wand still raised, Snape pushed the coats apart, looking between them. Nothing. But there was another row of coats hanging behind the first. The girl might be hidden behind them.
"Come out, little girl," he whispered softly - and startled by the sound of his own voice. In the huge, empty room, the echo magnified his soft whisper to a hoarse rasp. Little wonder the child did not want to leave its hiding place.
Snape gave an impatient hiss and narrowed his eyes in disgust. He took a deep breath, pushed the coats further apart, and stepped into the wardrobe. Soft fur slid over his face. Snape recoiled, shuddering.
There was hardly anything in the world Severus Snape disliked more than the smell and feel of fur. His analytic mind would not allow him to see anything else in fur than what it was: dead animals. Dead, slaughtered, skinned, stitched-together animals, and although he had no objections whatsoever to kill spiders and pickle frog brain, he did not like having any dead bodies anywhere near his face. It made his skin crawl.
To his great surprise, the little girl was not cowering at the back wall of the wardrobe, either. In fact, it almost seemed as though the wardrobe had no back wall at all. Snape squinted his eyes and used his free hand to feel his way in the darkness. Instinctively, he reached out with his other hand, holding the wand in a tight grip, and closed the door behind himself. It was never wise to have an open door in one’s back on unknown territory.
Before he could cast a Lumos in the pitch-blackness, he notices a faint shimmer of light in front of him and took another step forward. In the next moment, he was toppling out of the wardrobe as though an invisible hand had pushed him, momentarily blinded by the sharp sunlight, his wand arm raised in defense.
Snape stumbled sidewards, regained his equilibrium within a few seconds, and stopped dead in an awkward position, half-crouching, his shoulders drawn tight. Ink-black tendrils were dangling in front of his face like an oily curtain. He swept them back impatiently. And took in a deep, steadying breath.
"What devilry..." he muttered, looking around warily. Before his eyes, the most idyllic scenario was spread out like a feast; tall palm trees whispering in the soft breeze, a clear, deep blue ocean sending playfull waves to the beach, where they danced over round stones and broke on small rocks, pink and mother-of-pearl coloured shells scattered across the obscenly white sand, a stream making its cheerful way from the patch of dark green trees into the sea, birds singing in trilling, sweet voices in the trees, and for a moment, Snape was almost ready to swear he saw a doe grazing peacefully under the blossoming sycamore tree to his right. He looked closer, shading his eyes from the light (he was already feeling a headache building up) and to his relief realised that his eyes must have played him a trick. Does hardly lived in palm forrests, he reminded himself, glad to find a rational thought to cling to.
There was another shape, however, that required his closer inspection. It looked as though someone was lying there, in the shade of a large tree. He pulled his right foot out of the sand, his mouth curving up with disgust, and made towards the solitary figure in the distance.
Walking in the fine sand was a nightmare. His feet slipped from under him every time he tried to take up his usual, swift, purposeful pace, and he was forced to slow down as not to slip and slide in an undignified way.
Yes, there was definitely a person lying there. A man.
Snape never abandoned his caution when he approached the still figure until he stood merely a few feet away. Then, his heart gave an enourmous thump, and he froze in mid-step.
Sirius Black!
Sirius Black.
Snape stared. That was not possible. Black was dead, and he, Snape, was in his dungeon bedroom, experiencing a nightmare beyond belief. The heat was closing on him, around him, and he opened his mouth to catch air. Sweat was burning in his eyes. His hand closed automatically on his wand, and he realised with disgust that his palm was moist and sticky.
"Not real," he muttered to himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. "Not real!"
Back to catching up with flist.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 12:27 pm (UTC)And yippee! I was in mourning for the Snack *sniff* It looks like it will be worth waiting for *is all excited now*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 12:41 pm (UTC)But I haven't read any of the other contributions yet. As fangirls go, I am quite pathetic. I am very much looking forward to Diana Williams' adaptation of The Secret Garden now.
The Snack is great fun. Snapey's all grumpy and Sirius tries to not show how happy he is to have company. TheirLoveIsSoInDenial!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 12:51 pm (UTC)Mmmm grumpy Snape and 'I am grumpy, really I am' Sirius - *drool* ;-)
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 01:17 pm (UTC)I was planning on reading all CCC contributions. But, alas, RL! So thanks for the "Green Lights" tip, now I know where to start reading :-)
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 01:20 pm (UTC)It is always quite a relief to get back data one thought were lost forever, isn't it?
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 01:22 pm (UTC)*sobs in frustration*
PS Welcome back!
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 01:40 pm (UTC)fall tenderly in love before they launch into gentle lovemakingget randy enough to overlook the respective other's identity.So far, I have managed to make them cuddle. It is a start.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:02 pm (UTC)Ah, Snack... *sighs*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:16 pm (UTC)But I can't have them fuck from the start. Even Sirius and Severus need a warm-up phase. And it leaves more space for the pre-coital snark.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:14 pm (UTC)1. Lion, Witch, Wardrobe opening - HEE!!
2. Snape does not like the feel of fur...developed fear from Shack Incident, perhaps?
Promising! Glad you found it!
love, lore
no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-10 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 03:14 am (UTC)Before I start to run: I love your writing, so when I come back I hope that this was will be finished. Now I really run...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 03:47 am (UTC)This fic is a longer project, but I might decide to post it as a WIP, to force myself to continue writing it.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-12 04:11 am (UTC)I'm looking forward to this WIP. A good Snack is never long enough.
Hmmm, Snape's hair grease as for a lube. An iteressting idea for a squick challenge.