dev_chieftain (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dev_chieftain) wrote2012-08-25 07:15 am
dev_chieftain) wrote2012-08-25 07:15 am
First, office. Then, fun.
Well, I was going to get up at 5 when Danny left for work so I'd have a couple of hours before overtime, but instead I slept until 6:15, took a shower, and amused the cat by dragging around a piece of string for a little bit. This does mean no fanfiction, but at least she is a happy cat!
I do want to pick up with my Galaxy Rangers story, but I might need to add in the stuff that happens before Time is Fleeting, now that I have a better idea of how I want to frame the story in order to touch on the loose ends that bugged me when I hit the end of the series!
EDIT: in the meantime, there's this:
And also a few sentences or two of follow-up to Time is Fleeting:
Keep Control
He wakes up in panic, aware of the pain all up the left side of his body. Habit makes him reach for the badge he usually wears on his chest, but no luck: the badge is gone. Left arm doesn't respond, and honestly, his right arm is pretty shaky.
No sign of Zachary Foxx, or anyone, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, Shane Gooseman is alone.
With a great deal of effort he levers himself up from the floor where they left him, propping his injured shoulder against the wall and biting back a whine of pain. No sense showing weakness. They could be watching him. He won't call for the Captain, or the others, he won't beg, he won't crack. That's just what they want, isn't it? They'll just have to go home unsatisfied.
The first few seconds are the worst, as he's fighting up into that sitting position, head spinning and body fighting back. It's a stabbing sort of pain, and it feels like it's pooled in his guts. His side is hot to the touch, even through his uniform, and he can tell the proximity of the blast-- even though it was set to stun-- left him burned. It's a chore to breathe, and it's no picnic, keeping himself upright.
Seconds stretch into minutes, and no one comes. Minutes into hours, and the sweat dripping into his eyes is one of the few things that's helping him stay awake. The pain makes him dizzy, and sitting in here alone and unsure what to expect is not helping him to quiet his panic. He shakes, angry and hurt and frightened, and swears to himself that he must not show weakness.
The Queen of the Crown watches him, through the eyes of a memory bird, and smiles, reaching out to her newest servant. The slaver lord steps forward, projecting its maker forth from its psychocrystal for her amusement.
Zachary Foxx stiffly bows before her, and kisses her hand.
I do want to pick up with my Galaxy Rangers story, but I might need to add in the stuff that happens before Time is Fleeting, now that I have a better idea of how I want to frame the story in order to touch on the loose ends that bugged me when I hit the end of the series!
EDIT: in the meantime, there's this:
And also a few sentences or two of follow-up to Time is Fleeting:
Keep Control
He wakes up in panic, aware of the pain all up the left side of his body. Habit makes him reach for the badge he usually wears on his chest, but no luck: the badge is gone. Left arm doesn't respond, and honestly, his right arm is pretty shaky.
No sign of Zachary Foxx, or anyone, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, Shane Gooseman is alone.
With a great deal of effort he levers himself up from the floor where they left him, propping his injured shoulder against the wall and biting back a whine of pain. No sense showing weakness. They could be watching him. He won't call for the Captain, or the others, he won't beg, he won't crack. That's just what they want, isn't it? They'll just have to go home unsatisfied.
The first few seconds are the worst, as he's fighting up into that sitting position, head spinning and body fighting back. It's a stabbing sort of pain, and it feels like it's pooled in his guts. His side is hot to the touch, even through his uniform, and he can tell the proximity of the blast-- even though it was set to stun-- left him burned. It's a chore to breathe, and it's no picnic, keeping himself upright.
Seconds stretch into minutes, and no one comes. Minutes into hours, and the sweat dripping into his eyes is one of the few things that's helping him stay awake. The pain makes him dizzy, and sitting in here alone and unsure what to expect is not helping him to quiet his panic. He shakes, angry and hurt and frightened, and swears to himself that he must not show weakness.
The Queen of the Crown watches him, through the eyes of a memory bird, and smiles, reaching out to her newest servant. The slaver lord steps forward, projecting its maker forth from its psychocrystal for her amusement.
Zachary Foxx stiffly bows before her, and kisses her hand.