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My ink *is* bloody. Gyah. Wonder whose blood...
Fanfic filter. More HELL FOR YOU HA HA HA
From: "Vesper Antagonist" <djinnatenjou@y...>
Date: Tue Mar 25, 2003 12:13 am
Subject: Ehh-- Trainwreck #5. Well, it *is*.
This time, color me utter(leigh, ha ha) self-conscious. Here I am,
writing a terrifying mishmash of pop cultural throwbacks and crazy
Crosstime altiversal counterparts that should never never see the
light of day EVAR, right, in a completely scattered and badly-
narrated pathetic excuse for a crossover fic, and tossing it wantonly
in the faces of far better and more dedicated writers than I. I'd
stop in shame and wait for the next challenge to try something else,
but it's gripped something vital - possibly my cigarettes - and if I
don't write it I dream I'm stuck in it.
A fate worse than death.
So if I am irritating anyone with this nigh-daily business of
Crosstime Carnage - which I hope desperately is at least as tolerable
as watching Pete Wisdom eat (horrifying, yet strangely fascinating) -
please let me know, and I'll shunt it elsewhere. Switch tracks, so to
speak. Arr har har.
Also, uh. What was I gonna say. Oh - some applicable Robert Smith:
I hear her voice calling my name
The sound is deep
In the dark I hear her voice
And start to run into the trees
Suddenly I stop but I know it's too late
I'm lost in a forest all alone
The girl was never there
It's always the same
I'm running towards nothing
Again and again and again and again
-------------
"...you're all mad."
"Once we get out of the 80s," reasoned Kurt, finally having taken a
break from alternating between preparing and eating ramen and
sharpening a sword up on an improbable perch, "the 90s are gonna make
the 60s look like the 50s."
"And you're not Dennis Hopper. Nor are you Mick Jones, so you aren't
even allowed to sample it. We're wasting time here, Wagner," said
Pete, glancing at Kurt briefly. He looked back at the window, leaning
on its bottom half. Alistaire was outside with Marty, still trying to
explain things to him - and all because the overwhelmed dork with the
unfortunate name (Marty, not Alistaire) had gone and *asked* about
time travel.
"What do you mean, wasting -- this isn't the first instance of your
implying a timetable, Wisdom," observed Kurt slowly, eyeing the older
mutant.
"Not getting any younger," was all Pete had to say on the subject.
*Rachel,* he called soundlessly. *Are you lot done yet? Don't want
this train getting smashed by the next real one. And smashed in the
debris sense of the word, not the alcoholic.*
*Yeah. Oh, frelling--*
*You're not your crackheaded brother, either. What's up?*
*Duck.*
"Shit," said Pete out loud, ducking out of sight of the window.
"Duck."
"Duck?" asked Kurt, blinking. And then he got a look out the
window. "Heiliger Go--" he had time to start exclaiming before Rachel
and Kitty flew desperately through the side of the car - yes phased
thank you, the damn train's had enough abuse - and Morgan pinballed
through the door and into him. The next ten seconds were almost as
chaotic as the timestream. As soon as Kitty had her breath and her
feet back, she leaned halfway out the window and yelled really loud
at Alistaire to get in or get his geeky fuzzy-collar-coat-clad butt
kicked six ways to Sunday, and Pete had to grab her ankles and tug
her back in because she started falling out, which was interesting
because he was still on the floor from having ducked and Kitty ended
up knocking the wind out of him with her knees. Kurt, having
abandoned both sword and dignity, scrambled to his feet and darted
outside to collect Alistaire, because threats from BabyKitty didn't
hold much water. Morgan, more desperate than ashamed but only at the
moment because my *god* the humiliation of what the genderbent
teenager was wearing, was ransacking the train with Rachel for
Widget. Britanic, of course, was still in the last car of the train,
where he'd locked himself after the Morgan incident. None of this was
helped by Marty yelling something unintelligible outside as the train
began to move, or the sound of distant sirens growing closer, or the
alarm that started to ring next to the tracks, or the bone-shaking
rumble and growing whistle-howl of an oncoming train. Kurt tumbled
inside with a thoroughly disheveled Alistaire and Morgan yelled, "I
found it!" just as police cars started arriving and the approaching
train came into sight, and Rachel dove for Widget, and there was a
blinding flash of yellow-orange feather-light--
---
Marty started making himself scarce as soon as the sirens started
getting closer, so he wasn't actually blinded by the energy signature
of the Phoenix - but the flash of light was definitely there, and so
was the horrible screeching sound of rending steel and popping
plexiglas. *Oh, /shit/. They didn't-- they didn't make it in time,
they--*
It was way too little debris for an entire train.
There was a long-haired blond guy in spandex reeling away from the
wreckage.
His ranting sounded really English. It also sounded really, really
drunk.
Marty decided that if he could walk away from getting hit by a train,
he didn't actually need the help of a seventeen-year-old guy who
really needed to go find his girlfriend.
---
"Does the train feel, I dunno, lighter to anyone else?" asked Kitty,
squinting.
---
From: "Vesper Antagonist" <djinnatenjou@y...>
Date: Tue Mar 25, 2003 12:13 am
Subject: Ehh-- Trainwreck #5. Well, it *is*.
This time, color me utter(leigh, ha ha) self-conscious. Here I am,
writing a terrifying mishmash of pop cultural throwbacks and crazy
Crosstime altiversal counterparts that should never never see the
light of day EVAR, right, in a completely scattered and badly-
narrated pathetic excuse for a crossover fic, and tossing it wantonly
in the faces of far better and more dedicated writers than I. I'd
stop in shame and wait for the next challenge to try something else,
but it's gripped something vital - possibly my cigarettes - and if I
don't write it I dream I'm stuck in it.
A fate worse than death.
So if I am irritating anyone with this nigh-daily business of
Crosstime Carnage - which I hope desperately is at least as tolerable
as watching Pete Wisdom eat (horrifying, yet strangely fascinating) -
please let me know, and I'll shunt it elsewhere. Switch tracks, so to
speak. Arr har har.
Also, uh. What was I gonna say. Oh - some applicable Robert Smith:
I hear her voice calling my name
The sound is deep
In the dark I hear her voice
And start to run into the trees
Suddenly I stop but I know it's too late
I'm lost in a forest all alone
The girl was never there
It's always the same
I'm running towards nothing
Again and again and again and again
-------------
"...you're all mad."
"Once we get out of the 80s," reasoned Kurt, finally having taken a
break from alternating between preparing and eating ramen and
sharpening a sword up on an improbable perch, "the 90s are gonna make
the 60s look like the 50s."
"And you're not Dennis Hopper. Nor are you Mick Jones, so you aren't
even allowed to sample it. We're wasting time here, Wagner," said
Pete, glancing at Kurt briefly. He looked back at the window, leaning
on its bottom half. Alistaire was outside with Marty, still trying to
explain things to him - and all because the overwhelmed dork with the
unfortunate name (Marty, not Alistaire) had gone and *asked* about
time travel.
"What do you mean, wasting -- this isn't the first instance of your
implying a timetable, Wisdom," observed Kurt slowly, eyeing the older
mutant.
"Not getting any younger," was all Pete had to say on the subject.
*Rachel,* he called soundlessly. *Are you lot done yet? Don't want
this train getting smashed by the next real one. And smashed in the
debris sense of the word, not the alcoholic.*
*Yeah. Oh, frelling--*
*You're not your crackheaded brother, either. What's up?*
*Duck.*
"Shit," said Pete out loud, ducking out of sight of the window.
"Duck."
"Duck?" asked Kurt, blinking. And then he got a look out the
window. "Heiliger Go--" he had time to start exclaiming before Rachel
and Kitty flew desperately through the side of the car - yes phased
thank you, the damn train's had enough abuse - and Morgan pinballed
through the door and into him. The next ten seconds were almost as
chaotic as the timestream. As soon as Kitty had her breath and her
feet back, she leaned halfway out the window and yelled really loud
at Alistaire to get in or get his geeky fuzzy-collar-coat-clad butt
kicked six ways to Sunday, and Pete had to grab her ankles and tug
her back in because she started falling out, which was interesting
because he was still on the floor from having ducked and Kitty ended
up knocking the wind out of him with her knees. Kurt, having
abandoned both sword and dignity, scrambled to his feet and darted
outside to collect Alistaire, because threats from BabyKitty didn't
hold much water. Morgan, more desperate than ashamed but only at the
moment because my *god* the humiliation of what the genderbent
teenager was wearing, was ransacking the train with Rachel for
Widget. Britanic, of course, was still in the last car of the train,
where he'd locked himself after the Morgan incident. None of this was
helped by Marty yelling something unintelligible outside as the train
began to move, or the sound of distant sirens growing closer, or the
alarm that started to ring next to the tracks, or the bone-shaking
rumble and growing whistle-howl of an oncoming train. Kurt tumbled
inside with a thoroughly disheveled Alistaire and Morgan yelled, "I
found it!" just as police cars started arriving and the approaching
train came into sight, and Rachel dove for Widget, and there was a
blinding flash of yellow-orange feather-light--
---
Marty started making himself scarce as soon as the sirens started
getting closer, so he wasn't actually blinded by the energy signature
of the Phoenix - but the flash of light was definitely there, and so
was the horrible screeching sound of rending steel and popping
plexiglas. *Oh, /shit/. They didn't-- they didn't make it in time,
they--*
It was way too little debris for an entire train.
There was a long-haired blond guy in spandex reeling away from the
wreckage.
His ranting sounded really English. It also sounded really, really
drunk.
Marty decided that if he could walk away from getting hit by a train,
he didn't actually need the help of a seventeen-year-old guy who
really needed to go find his girlfriend.
---
"Does the train feel, I dunno, lighter to anyone else?" asked Kitty,
squinting.
---