If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
For once the table was clear of books and the detritus of research, and was living up to its name. Giles slowly sorted through his Tarot cards. He had unearthed his copy of the Thoth deck from the back of a desk drawer. The edges of the heavy card stock were worn. The colors had faded, and had never been that clear to begin with. If he brought one to his nose he could detect aloeswood and herb, faint remnants of parties past.
He chose a card and let it fall to the table. Lust.
Some of Giles' books weren't where she'd expected to find them. Maybe he had them here in his study. He shelved the more sensitive books here, like the Watcher diaries and that book of prophecies that Buffy hated. Willow dug around. Aha. In the closet, still in a box. Some of the advanced magical texts. Excellent.
Willow extracted the two most interesting texts from the box, then shut it up again and closed the closet door. She carried the books back to her room. Maybe later she could improve the theoretical underpinnings of unification spells. For now she should get back to the Forster. The paper was due in a week, and then they were supposed to start reading Maugham.
"Tradition and protocol"
Scared witless, he'd been, though anger had carried him through it. He'd been angry even then at the disruption to his boyish plans, at the bizarre new life he'd been dropped into. Pomp, circumstance, ritual, incense smoking, candles dancing in arcane breezes, and a handful of trembling naked boys and girls bound one by one in the pentagram and anointed with oil and ash and their own blood and chanted over until they were owned by something they had no hope of understanding.
"Jesus!" Parker stiffened, then slammed himself away from her. Buffy mewled in protest, but Parker kept backing away. He fell off the bed, taking the sheets with him. He stared up at her from the tangle of red, outraged. "What the fuck? You just shocked me. What have you got in there? How did you do that?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"You just shocked me! You could have just said no or something."
The novel-length bond story, or NAMBLA (long excerpt, just 'cause)
Giles stood behind the circulation desk, checking in the books that had been returned in the last day. The three children were clumped together at the table. They were so physically relaxed with each other, leaning against each other and rummaging through each other's possessions. These three had known each other all their lives, Giles realized. He didn't have anyone like that. His own close friends were half the world away. His context had been stripped away. He had nothing that was his own. Not even his Slayer yet, for whom he'd given it all up.
"Amy Yip at the waterslide park." One of the boys was speaking.
"You say that every time." The other boy. Giles looked up. Jesse, the taller of the two.
"My vision is pure and steady. You, Will?" Xander, short for Alexander. Giles wondered if the boy owned any clothes that fit him. He always seemed to swim in baggy pants with thumbs caught in long shirtsleeves.
"I'm in France. I'm sitting in a cafe, reading poetry from a slim volume. I've been drinking coffee, just perfect coffee, from a white cup. A dark handsome man comes up and sits down across from me, telling me he's been watching me from afar."
"A slim volume? What's that?" Jesse said.
"All the best poetry comes in slim volumes."
"You know you don't like coffee, Will." Xander.
"This is special Paris cafe coffee that tastes good and doesn't make me talk a lot. Your turn, Jesse."
"I'm at a rave at the beach, under the full moon. The beat is incredible, just really deep. I'm dancing. I'm dancing with a girl in one of those crop top things. She has a ring in her belly button, and a little tattoo of a butterfly right below it."
Xander was silent, contemplating this. He came to a decision. "Hot, but not quite competing with Ms Yip. Definitely of the good, though."
"What about you, Mr Giles?"
"Anywhere but here," said Jesse.
Xander said, "It's a game."
"Describe somewhere you'd like to be that's anywhere but here."
"Oh, oh! I, er, uh, I'm not sure..."
"C'mon, Mr Giles. You've heard ours." Willow smiled at him. Giles already had a hard time resisting Willow's smile. It was so unspoiled. He thought a moment, seeking a memory of perfect contentment.