favorite bits meme

[schmerica]

There's a meme going around -- mostly Buffy/Angel fandom so far, I guess, starting from wesleysgirl -- about your own favorite parts from stories you have written.

What I've learned from doing this more than anything else, I think, is that I really do entertain myself a lot. I don't know if any of my little jokes work for anybody else, but I can still crack myself up. "My parents say I'm a gift from above." That's cheesy comic gold, people! Organic carrots, man.

Also, I think I tend to build on the section or story level and less on the smaller level -- ideally, one does both, of course, buy I find there are stories where there's nothing specific where I would quote or point out, but where I think it manages to keep on building on itself to be quite good. I don't know.

Anyway. I went through rereading all my stories last night, so there are quite a few here. So, uh. You can just all think I'm egotistical. Or something.

Lex thinks he looks like their mother. He can't see Dad in him at all. He reaches out his hand and touches the baby's cheek. It's smooth and soft, and the baby makes a tiny sound and shifts a little beneath his hand. Lex closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of baby powder.
--Five Imaginary Incidents from Lives of Unimportant People

I like the description here, the way it plays against the interaction with Lucas in the rest of it, what it tells us about 11-year-old Lex here.

"Are you going?" Clark says, and there's an odd edge to his voice that's Lex has noticed before, but hasn't quite identified yet. He has not mentioned it to Clark.

"I thought this might go better with both of us unshod."

"Oh," Clark says. "Good idea," as he straightens up and sits cross-legged on the bed. Clark's hair is mussed from sleep, sticking up in every direction, a bizarre cloud around his head. He watches, wide-eyed, eyes green and catlike in the reflected light.
--Once in a While

I like the mood here, how it almost manages to do what I wanted the story to do as a whole: the sexiness and sweetness, but with the undercurrent of something else.

The rules were there to protect people, but Lex knew what exactly what he was doing -- for the two of them, for everybody. Just because other people didn't see things the same way...

There was a reason greatness wasn't for everyone.
--Rings and Sores

Another one that's a smaller illustration of the story as a whole. Reading it by itself here, it looks like Lex pov, but it's Clark talking: this is probably the clearest place in the story to show how they're merging into each other and changing.

Clark whispers Lex's name, reverent against his skin as he nuzzles his stomach. Lex rubs Clark's head slowly, the hair soft, fluffy to his touch. It's entirely possible that Lex has memorized the smell of Clark's shampoo, entirely too sweet and artificially fresh. He could probably follow the trail of the scent through a labyrinth, with Clark in the center.

Has he ever told Clark about the Minotaur? "Clark," he says, but when Clark looks up again, Lex changes his mind. "Take off your shirt."
--Fell Down

I like the words here, the details and specificity and clarity. This is probably my favorite Lex voice I've ever written.

Clark is just watching -- still with that stunned and frozen look, except not, because Lex knows what an illicit thrill looks like, and Clark could be a twelve-year-old who just managed to shoplift his first pack of gum.
--Fell Down

Heh. I still just really like that metaphor.

"He can't help who he's fallen in love with," Martha told Jonathan.

Jonathan blew a breath of air out past his lips, and glared stubbornly. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to," she said.
--Skin Your Knee

This is an entire section of the story -- it comes right after the flashback to Martha and Jonathan's courtship and Martha's visit to Lex, giving a contrast and rhythm to the story, but still fitting in with those other pieces the way that I wanted.

"Kind of hard to compete with when all you've got is sixteen, cute and quirky, you know?"
--Drowning in Syrup

and

"So, what am I? Some footnote in your epic romance?"
--The Next in Line

Two lines of dialogue from two different stories -- both Chloe, and both in reference to the Chloe/Clark/Lex triangle, and probably the basic way I was thinking about it in both, for Chloe's voice. I wrote quite a bit on that subject last summer, what with the Chloe/Clark in the season finale. I now question the wisdom of trying to write a triangle when you despise one pairing and adore the other -- but I did try to be fair and try to be right to their characters.

The spaceship was like Lex, except less pushy. It was better at staying in the space Clark had carved out for it.
--Six Pieces

I like the phrasing here, the comparison, the connection to the larger theme of Clark's seperation between all the piece of his life.

"You can go back to counting," she said. "I'll warn you when it's time to fight off the vicious mutant remnants."

"I thought everyone was dead."

"Everyone but the vicious mutant remnants," River said calmly.
--Tourniquet

I loved "Safe", and baby!River and baby!Simon were one of the reasons why. I was quite pleased with how their voices turned out in this story.

"You can't make it better," she says. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her hair falling along his bare chest, and her voice is muffled. "Sticks and stones and broken bones, but the medicine doesn't work anymore. The dish fell and the pieces all scattered."

"I can," he says. He closes his eyes and strokes her hair. It smells like engine grease, from sitting by Kaylee and watching her work this afternoon. Underneath he can detect sweat, and even further down there's the clean smell of soap. "I will," he says, and he hopes she isn't seeing how scared he is that he won't.
--Tourniquet

Probably the closest I'll ever come to managing to express crazy River an the complex River-and-Simon relationship.

They made love these days with a tenderness and fervor that had not decreased with the years -- more than two, now, since they had first laid hands upon each other in their dark bedroom, each shaking with nerves and anticipation.

But each day that went by without a quickening in Elizabeth's belly was a small disappointment to Will.

And each day, he made swords, and came home to his lovely wife. And Elizabeth read, and practiced, and grew quiet, and stranger to him.
--Quickening

I just really like the narrative voice I managed here. The word choice, as well.

Colin was standing around with his hands in his jeans pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and smiling. "So. Bright, huh?"

I buried my head in my arms, so my voice was a little muffled when I spoke. "You know, just because you're dead doesn't mean I can't kick your ass."
--Laynie Hart Talks to the Dead

One of the aforementioned palces where I just amuse myself. Other examples can be found in the Pete sections in Correspondence and Whistle While You Work, and the Torrance-Les conversation in Routine.