misscam | Shirtless Men, Drabbles and Betas

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Shirtless Men, Drabbles and Betas

Norwegian skiers with little on p.1
Norwegian skiers with little on p.2

Sigh. I love sports. You ask me, there should be more shirtless-ness of males in the world.

I'm really feeling inspired to write of late, but of course, none of the things I'm supposed to write. Figures. But anyway - some of you might remember drabbles by request. I'm hereby bringing it back. You ask, Cam will write. Around 100 words, any topic, any setting.

Now, betas. I'm in need of two, really. One for OFUM2 and one for a CSI "epic" I'm sketching out at the moment. Preferably people who do British English and can correct mistakes without going after my style. Give me a hoot at camilla.sandman at gmail dot com if you think you could be helpful. I will adore you boundlessly.

Also, What the smegging F?

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How self centered would it be to ask for a drabble describing me? Or my bad habit of saying I'm going to sleep 5 or 6 times over the course of several hours before I actually do...

Ok, turning off the computer and going to bed now. *grin*

There is a ghost in her mind and its touch is winter, cold, ever cold. It is a roar in her blood, a whisper in her mind. Fear. Fear is her ghost, a haunt of events long passed and never gone. Nothing clings like memories. Nothing remembers like fear. The ghost is her and she fears herself more than anything. Nowhere to hide in your mind. Nowhere to run in your shadow. For who can save you from yourself?

But even winter is not forever. Shadows can be chased, fears dispelled and the wind can bring spring. Always, there is tomorrow and new memories. And that is enough.

For the ghost is her and she will be her own savior.

(I'm not pretending to know how you feel, but that's sort of my idea of it. Yeah. *looks down* Feel free to smack.)

Actually that is incredibly accurate, not to mention absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for that.

*smacks anyway because violence is fun* :P

*smacks back*

Ungrateful violent American :P

Can't help you with the betas sorry. But a drabble... about fangirls. Doco-style, satire, "diary of a fangirl", don't care. I feel I ought to ~~demand~~ request all spelling and grammar mangling associated therewith.

Happy writing!

There is an Inner Fangirl in almost all, born into the world as surely as babies are. With some it lurks, sometimes squeeing in the corners of the mind and quickly hiding before the other parts of the brain comes with their large sticks. With some it rules, writing SQUEE in glitter on foreheads and disregarding teh grammah, cus, u no. And sometimes, it grows up and becomes Mature and mostly sensible and abandoning squee for “ah, lovely” and ogles with dignity all the way through the retirement home. And then it dies and only the faint glitter in the wind reminds you it lived.

Until it is reborn. For there will always be obsessions and love. And squee.

Very nice... I think I'm about half-way in the stages thing. Depends on the amount of sugar I've had.

Bit early to be thinking about retiring, isn't it?

I'd be happy to beta OFUM2 for you. I'll even remember to reset the dictionary on my spell-check:-)

As for drabble, something with the Fellowship and either noble!compassionate!Aragorn or Lord Elrond.

To clarify, I do have knowledge of British English; I just don't usually use it. Though lately I've been spontaneously putting a "u" in "behaviour" for completely unexplained reasons...I haven't been doing it with color, honor, or any of those other words...

*Notices the clause about email* Oops...

There is silence between them. The Fellowship is leaving the following day and they both know why Aragorn will go. They both wish for it not to fail and they both know what it will cost Elrond if it does. And Aragorn knows not the words to undo the grief of the Elf who raised him. But he can feel it, as surely as it had pierced his own heart. To lose a daughter to forever for the love of someone he too loves.

“I wish...” Aragorn says helplessly, even if he knows not what he wishes. That Arwen did not love him? That an abyss of mortality did not divide them? That he could live forever?

And Elrond looks at him, eyes keen and gentle, knowing what is unspoken.

“I know.”

Wow. Just wow.

Yup there should be more shirtless men in the world.

I am in love with your icon. Mmm... Warrick

Mmmmm indeed. Sigh.

Good luck with finding a beta. Shirtless men, there really should be more of them. What about a drabble about the virtues of massage oil? (My mind is still with those pictures.)

It is an oft ignored truth that dip an attractive man in oil and the attraction suddenly doubles. Dip some massage oil on him and he is walking sex. The skin seems to shine more, to invite touch and looking. And the feeling of slickness invites too many naughty thoughts, too many human instincts. Touches linger, the skin burns. It is foreplay even when there is no sex. It is making love without all the genitalia business. It is to worship a body, one drop of oil at a time.

(And already got two. People are fast.)

That's beautiful. *sighs*
No other words to describe it.

Thanks.

And now I must resist the urge to oil up some nice male...

Drabble topic... how about an object that's always been around, but you only notice when it's not there? (Could be fictional or non.)

It is morning. You get up. Shower, dress, eat, brush, dress again. It is every morning, any morning. Time to leave the happy nest and set forth in the world. And you grab for what is always there, what you never think about – and this time it is gone.

Panic ensues. Wailing, gnashing of teeth, threatening, pleading. Please turn up! We do love you! Even if we only need you every now and then. Please, please, please! We'll be late!

And on the floor, under your hat, the carkeys smirk to themselves. Maybe now they'll get some love at last.

*ogles with dignity at the skiers* Very lovely indeed.

A drabble? Hmmm...

Something from a cat's point of view would be nice.

Day in the garden. A strand of grass moving in the wind is studied like the wonder it is. Shadows, real and imagined, are chased, tail brushing against the undergrowth. The wind catches a few stray hairs, lifting them high up, out of the reach of an eager paw. A bird is considered, but it flies away. It matters not. There is always tomorrow. There is always his own tail to chase. He lives and life is all that matters down in the grass. No grand monuments to consider. No desires to be remembered for the ages. Just living all you can until death comes, as twilight must to allow night and another dawn.

And another cat, eagerly stalking shadows as his father before him. As his son after him, ever until sunset.

[Mr. Burns-voice]Excellent.[/Mr. Burns-voice]

Just... Wow. o.O

It's fantastic! Bloody brilliant!

*in awe of your mad writing-skill*

There's not enough Mr. Burns in the world. Eeeeeeexcellent! Sniff.

A drabble...hmm.

Something from Feanor's viewpoint would be nice. Or Celebrian's.

That might just be in the running for greatest icon ever...

She lies awake in the night and knows she must leave him, leave their children, their home. Rivendell is a refuge, but her darkness is within her and there is no place to hide. She remembers. Her body has healed, but memories are not a wound his hands can close, for all Elrond loves her.

The sea sings in her blood. Of rest, of healing, of forgetting. Of rest, beyond struggle and darkness. She must go. She has known for some time. But she has lingered here for him, for their children, for love, for the hope of forgetting.

And in the morning she must tell him hope is spent. So she lies awake, watching him, hoping the night shall never end.

She loves him.

(I suck at Feanor writing, so Celebrian it was.)

Ooooh, thank you. Quite sad, but it definitely fits the character.

:) Also, must add my icon love.

Stupid zero tolerance policies - they leave no room for discretion. And that is my request - a nice little drabble on the stupidity of zero tolerence. That would be MUCH appreciated.

So much black and white. Humans revel in it, in evil and good, clear labels, zero tolerance, heaven and hell. This makes you good. This makes you evil. For now and ever more. Rules remain. Labels stick. Tolerance dies. And understanding falters. We have labeled evil. Surely we must then have found a way to kill it? Why does it still lingers? Why is still here? Does it not see its own label?

And those who might understand, remain silent for the fear of the label. But they know. Humans come in shades of grey and some day, we'll paint us all black.

Chest hair really doesn't do much for me but the second pic...Yummy!

I'll hold you to that "drabbles by request" thing. I am so brain dead right now, I can't even spell my own name right (no, not kidding, shut up!) so yeah...

Connecticut was always beyond special for words. This merely proves my point. Imbeciles!

:P:P Learn to love hair, Frenchie.

Jamais! Hairy men are going to wax if they want to be with me. Otherwise Ill be "ruining the moment" for them 24/7. Gah! Hairball...

*pokes the Almighty Cam* sent you an e-mail regarding the beta problem...

And how about a drabble relating to the stupidity of Phelps? I know you've got plenty to say about that dipwad.

He is angry. Anger has bred hatred and now he seems to burst with it, lashing out at all he does not understand. All he fears, for how dare it be different from what his norms dictate? How dare it name itself love when it is deviant, when the voice of God tells him this in the dark? It must be the voice of God, for he dares not consider it is his own darkness speaking. It cannot be his own intolerance, hatred and lack of understanding. It cannot be his own devil on the shoulder, egging him on.

He must believe this, or he would be just another sad old man, lost in his own cloud of fear never to know anything else.

And for this, and only this, she finds she pities him.

*nods thoughtfully, wandering off back to bed in thought* Thank you... that was insightful...

Can't Beta worth a damn. But a drabble might be fun. Let's see... Grissom and Shelob.

Truly, it was a match made in heaven. Shelob and Grissom. Him, with his love of all spiders. Her, with her love of all humanoids. And as if fate had dictated it from the very start, they met and mutual admiration bloomed at once, like a fragile flower in the first wind of spring. He admired her magnitude of eyes and legs. She admired his sweet flesh and crunchy bones. She was hungry. He was food. It was meant to be.

At least, that's what Shelob considered as she ate thoughtfully, and really, she was the only one left to tell.

You are my hero.

*laughs helplessly* Thank you. *worships*

Heh. Probably the most amusing request of the day, too.

Give me a few days to get my exams behind me and I might well be able to help you out on the CSI beta side. Just tell me.

and uh... drabble subject: something cheerful; the choice is yours!

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Shirtless Men, Drabbles and Betas

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120 words

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Ooh! Fun! (I missed the last round)

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