Jessica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sparkysparky) wrote2009-05-02 09:39 am
sparkysparky) wrote2009-05-02 09:39 am
J2 Alaska!AU
Soooo! The Alaska fic is a go! A little different than I thought, more romance novelly and adventure-fic, but I think it's still going to be epic. I am determined to actually FINISH this fic, so to keep me going from time to time I will post updates here and stuff.
Tonight I amde a good start, knocked out 2,000 words or so, which is a pretty good start for me. Basically what you need to know is Jensen is a young photographer who takes an assignment chronicling a typical winter of a small Alaskan town, and Jaredis the Chief of Police owner of a flight company. I think. Not ENTIRELY sure yet, because Jared hasn't made an appearance yet. WE WILL SEE BBS!
So, here is a short snippet of how Jensen arrives in Lunacy, Alaska.
“Gonna get a little rough through here,” Douche said, raising his voice to a shout to be heard over the engine.
Jen swallowed past the bile rising in his throat and steadied himself with one hand on the ceiling of the plane.
“And it’s been so smooth until now.”
He was attempting sarcasm, but it came out more breathy and scared than he’d have hoped. If he hadn’t actually been scared out of his mind, he’d have been embarrassed. As it was, he was pretty certain fear was a logical response to a flying death trap.
Douche grinned, and turned in the pilot’s seat to wink at Jensen. Jen tried really, really hard not to lecture Douche about the benefits of keeping one’s eyes on the road. For one thing, they were in the air. For another, he was fairly certain Douche actually knew what he was doing. At least, he hoped he was.
“Oh, this ain’t been nuthin’. Ya oughta to try it fighting a headwind.”
Jensen tried to hide the wince that accompanied that statement, but from the smirk on Douche’s face he hadn’t quite succeeded. “No thanks. How much longer?” He had flashbacks to being eleven, riding in the back of his parents’ car, asking every five minutes if they were there yet. He’d done well until now, repressing the urge to ask the same question over and over.
“Not much.”
Right, that had been specific, but Jensen managed to keep from begging for a more definite answer. He wasn’t, after all, eleven anymore.
The plane bucked and shuddered. Jen gave up and closed his eyes. He hoped he wouldn’t add the indignity of his death by puking on his boots first.
He was never going up in a plane again. If he lived, he’d drive out of Alaska. Or walk. Or crawl. But he was never going into the air again.
A special surprise for whoever guesses first who Douche is!!
Tonight I amde a good start, knocked out 2,000 words or so, which is a pretty good start for me. Basically what you need to know is Jensen is a young photographer who takes an assignment chronicling a typical winter of a small Alaskan town, and Jared
So, here is a short snippet of how Jensen arrives in Lunacy, Alaska.
“Gonna get a little rough through here,” Douche said, raising his voice to a shout to be heard over the engine.
Jen swallowed past the bile rising in his throat and steadied himself with one hand on the ceiling of the plane.
“And it’s been so smooth until now.”
He was attempting sarcasm, but it came out more breathy and scared than he’d have hoped. If he hadn’t actually been scared out of his mind, he’d have been embarrassed. As it was, he was pretty certain fear was a logical response to a flying death trap.
Douche grinned, and turned in the pilot’s seat to wink at Jensen. Jen tried really, really hard not to lecture Douche about the benefits of keeping one’s eyes on the road. For one thing, they were in the air. For another, he was fairly certain Douche actually knew what he was doing. At least, he hoped he was.
“Oh, this ain’t been nuthin’. Ya oughta to try it fighting a headwind.”
Jensen tried to hide the wince that accompanied that statement, but from the smirk on Douche’s face he hadn’t quite succeeded. “No thanks. How much longer?” He had flashbacks to being eleven, riding in the back of his parents’ car, asking every five minutes if they were there yet. He’d done well until now, repressing the urge to ask the same question over and over.
“Not much.”
Right, that had been specific, but Jensen managed to keep from begging for a more definite answer. He wasn’t, after all, eleven anymore.
The plane bucked and shuddered. Jen gave up and closed his eyes. He hoped he wouldn’t add the indignity of his death by puking on his boots first.
He was never going up in a plane again. If he lived, he’d drive out of Alaska. Or walk. Or crawl. But he was never going into the air again.
A special surprise for whoever guesses first who Douche is!!