killclaudio: (Fraser's Office)
[personal profile] killclaudio
I'm sorry I've been quiet this week, but I've been busy unpacking, not to mention that my brain is being surreptitiously invaded by Snape/Lupin. It's very odd. I don't even like Harry Potter.

I'm rapidly discovering that other fandoms do not have the consistent quality and originality of dS. No offence meant to the HP fandom, it just seems that dS has some kind of arcane magic surrounding it. And why this strange trend for merging people's names in pairings? 'Snupin'? WTF? Can you imagine if we went around calling our pairings 'Fray' or 'Statcher'? *shakes head*

So, in an effort to get myself writing again, a meme! Feel free to let me know which one you'd like me to write.

When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.

Well, first up, Spuffy and I have a genderfuck fic to finish. *looks guilty*

Then there was an idea I had for an AU in which Fraser and RayK met when they were thirteen. Maybe Ray's father was a travelling salseman or something? Anyway, they move to Inuvik for a couple of years, and when they move away again Fraser and Ray, er, correspond. So the story opens, like the Pilot, with Bob Fraser's death;

I was standing at the back of the church, staring across at my father’s coffin, when I heard a voice behind me.

“I saw him once. He was a goodly king.”

“He was a man.” I replied. “Take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again.” And then, without turning around, “Hello, Ray.”

“Hey, Ben.” His tone was soft and tentative.

I turned. “I didn’t realise you knew Hamlet.”

“Lots you don’t know about me, buddy.” He winked, and the looked serious again. “How are you holding up?”

“I-” No way to answer that, not without bursting into tears or in some other way disgracing myself. Ray seemed to sense this, for he held his arms wide and wouldn’t take no for an answer.


I went to him gladly, grateful for his strong arms around me. It was a brief, back-slapping hug of the kind the other RCMP members would not think untoward, not the comfort I really wanted, but for now it was enough to have Ray at my side again.

“It’s starting.” He whispered, gently guiding me to my place at the front. I starched my spine once more, conscious of the eyes following me across the room. I would have time to grieve properly later. With Ray.

I think my problem with this story was that it always seemed vaguely improbable. So I got stuck.

Then there's the Physiotherapist AU. RayK as the physiotherapist in Letting Go, remember? Which is poorly planned and still lacks a plot, or even any entire scenes, really.

After he’d finished his rounds for the day Ray dropped into Ben’s room, and found him staring out of the window, craning his neck to look up at the sky.

“See any 747’s?” Ray asked.

“I was looking for stars, actually.”

“Won’t see many of those here, buddy.” He went to stand next to Fraser anyway, leaning over him to peer up at the patch of sky sandwiched between two buildings.

“No, I fear the light pollution is too strong. Still, I think I see a glimmer just at the corner of that building there.”

“Yeah?” Ray perched on the window ledge. “When I was little my Mom used to tell me that the fairies had cut little holes in the night sky like velvet, and the stars were where the light was shining through the holes.”

Fraser laughed. “When I was seven, my grandmother took me outside and pointed at the stars. She told me that they were massive balls of fire bigger than the earth, billions and billions of miles away, and that the light took thousands of years to reach our eyes. So the star we were looking at might have died thousands of years ago. To a little boy, that seemed far more incredible than any fairy-tale.”

“Were you shocked?”

“I was thrilled. My universe expanded so far with that one revelation. And I seemed so small.”

“Bet you were a cute kid.” Where the hell had that come from? Ray tried to swerve the conversation again. “I was a holy terror. Turned my Mom’s hair grey in a couple of weeks.”

“No kidding, Stanley.”

They both turned to see Ray Vecchio standing in the doorway, grinning smugly at them.

“It’s Ray.” Ray growled.

“Hey, you remember me, I’m flattered.”

“My name is Ray…”

“It says Stanley on the badge…”

And then later...

“Nah, my dad didn’t like Stella too much, he wasn’t too upset when she dumped me.”

“I see. And...after the lady?”

“The lady.” Ray snorted. “After the lady I started dating again. Just casual, y’know. And then after a little while I met someone else that I really…connected with. My dad didn’t like this person either, but this time I was stubborn.”

“Ah.” Benton was smiling. “And was she worth it?”

Ray took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn’t exactly the moment to out himself to a patient, but he was in too fuckin’ deep to lie now. “Yeah, Benton. He was.”

The smile dropped off Benton’s face. Fuck. Ray started backing away, hands help up, palms out.

“Look, I’m sorry…”

“Ray, please forgive me…”

“…I mean, I’m not sorry, but I…”

“…I made an unwarranted assumption…”

“…didn’t mean to come out with all that…”

“…your sexuality is a private matter, of course…”

“…maybe I should just leave you alone for a bit…”

“Ray!” Benton tried to get out of bed to follow him, Ray tried to push him back in, and the following tug of war shut them both for a few minutes. Eventually Benton got back on the bed, breathing slightly faster than Ray would have liked, and held up his hand for silence.

“Ray. I made an unfair assumption about you, and I apologize. I, of all people, know that one’s sexuality is never that…straightforward.”

“It’s not, huh?” Ray cocked his head to one side, examining Benton. “Ok. Cool.”

Then there's something I wrote months ago, which has somehow become completely dissociated from its plot in my mind. It was supposed to be the opening of something, but I have no idea what.

Ray’s first thought when he woke (ok, ‘thought’ was an exaggeration. Impulse, maybe. Instinct.) was to scoot over and cuddle up next to Fraser. He rolled. And kept rolling. And had to grab hard to the side of the bed to stop him from falling out when it became apparent that there was no big, warm, Fraser-shaped wall in the way.

But ok, that was fine, he wasn’t worried. Fraser was just using the can or making tea or helping some random old lady rescue her fortune in diamonds from a desperate criminal with a bad Russian accent. A typical Fraser-type thing. He’d be back soon. Besides, it was warm under here, and the sheets still smelled a bit of Fraser, and Ray had the memories of last night to relive. Nothing like finally getting laid by a guy you’ve been fantasising about for weeks to put a spring in your step. Ray settled down under the covers a bit further so he could have a nap. He’d need his strength when Fraser came back.

He couldn’t get back to sleep. The apartment was…too quiet. There was no noise coming from the kitchen or the bathroom, so Fraser wasn’t showering or making breakfast. He might have taken the wolf for a walk, but it wasn’t like him not to leave a note. Ray got up to check.

A ten minute scramble around his apartment turned up zip, zilch, nada, nothing. Fraser had wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’d and high-tailed it out of there. Well, fuck.

And finally, something that would have been about Canada Day, except not. I really can't remember where I was going with this either.

Ray was standing in our bedroom doorway, a shy and nervous expression on his face. He looked nearly as exhausted as I felt, his eyes two hollows in the soft light from the lamp.


“Hey.” I crossed the room towards him, and the nervous look softened in to a wry half-smile.

“Done celebrating?”

“Not by a long shot.”

The kiss was warm, sweet and clinging. Ray tasted of toothpaste underlain with Chinese takeout and beer, and I brushed my lips against his over and over. He carded his fingers gently through my hair, twisting the tips to make it stand up, and wrapped the other arm around my waist. I slid both hands into Ray’s back jeans pocket, an adolescent gesture that amuses him no end.

After a few minutes we pulled back, and Ray pointed to the garish decorations.

“I wanted to do something to celebrate. For you. Since, you know, you can’t actually celebrate Canada Day in Canada.”

“Oh, Ray.” I buried my face in his neck. How to explain that after a day at the Consulate I am heartily sick of maple leaves? That coming home to him is a joy and a pleasure, never more so than when his straightforward attitude and pragmatic good humour afford me an escape from a world of diplomacy I was never interested in?

“Thank you, Ray. They’re beautiful.”

“Freak.” He sounded embarrassed but pleased, and I hooked my fingers back in his pockets and danced him inexpertly over to the sofa.

“I believe I need to find a way to thank you properly.”

“Yeah, you do.” We collapsed on the sofa in a tangle of limbs, and he managed to end up on top as usual. I am not fool enough to complain, not with his warm weight anchoring me and his tongue gliding around the edge of my ear.

“How do you still taste good after spending all day at the Consulate, huh?” he whispered in my ear.

“I’m not sure that I d-, ah, Ray!” He bit my earlobe then laughed in my ear, long and low.

“Ever think about going back?”

“Not really.” It wasn’t a lie. Thoughts of Ray outshone everything else, and I could ignore the occasional eclipse.

See? It's a mystery.

There was also an idea I had while chatting to [ profile] aingeal8c a while ago;

Fraser is not a Mountie but a doctor. I'm thinking he goes to Chicago for...a conference? About the value of folklore in modern medicine? He's made a name for himself promoting traditional remedies as just as effective as Western ones, and the organisers have asked him to give the key-note speech.
Then some big pharmaceutical company decides that he's threatening their profits, and suddenly his life is in danger. Who does the establishment assign to guard him? Ray!

That's fandom. Still here? Good!

Manchester Literature Festival are running a competition for short stories based on urban myths. The word limit is 250. Yes, you read that right. I'm struggling with writing a story that compact, but I had a couple of ideas.

She’s leaning in the stairwell and gasping, so unbelievably, monstrously pregnant that it’s a wonder she’s still at work. I contemplate telling her that the fifteenth floor of a burning building is not the place to be taking a breather.

“Are you ok?”

She stares back at me in mute supplication, too puffed even to speak. Briefly, I calculate our odds of survival. Light, framed tube structure, already beginning to buckle. Fire spread from the third to the tenth floors. Lights failing. Risk management theory dictates I should get out of here as fast as possible. Stay and we both die.

I hold out my hand. After all, I’m the best financial risk manager in the city. I’m allowed to break the rules. We manage one more flight of stairs before I feel everything tumbling down around me.

I wake up in the hospital the next day, some painfully cheerful, asinine nurse telling me how lucky I am to be alive. What does she know about chance?

The doctor told me later that the building collapsed around us while we were still on the tenth floor. The fall did a lot of damage, he said, but if we’d been on the ground floor we would have been crushed under the weight of the rubble. One unprecedented act of kindness saved my life as well as hers.

So what was it? Divine intervention? Fate? Blind coincidence? No. It’s simply that we never know exactly what we put at risk.

And also;

I work in a baked bean factory. Ideal place to get rid of a body.

You can laugh. Chopping him up was the hard part. You have to really loathe someone to be able to saw their corpse into bite-sized chunks. Sneaking bits of him in to work? Covertly dropping them into a vat of beans? Piece of cake.

Nobody notices a smear of blood on my apron. They think it’s tomato sauce.

And among all the squishy orange beans no-one notices a small piece of squishy orange flesh. With a bit of luck the first tins will already be finding their way onto the shelves.

Been to the supermarket recently? Eaten baked beans on toast?

They’ll never piece my brother’s body back together. Oh, lots of people have written in to complain; to demand their money back, god help them. But none of them are at all inclined to hang on to the evidence. Besides, the acid in the tomato sauce has already started to do its work.

Can you imagine what that stuff is doing to your insides?

Ninety-two percent of murders are committed by a relative. And since I’m a blood traitor, I’m going to spend eternity keeping Cain company in the ninth circle of hell.

Then again, my brother is going to spend eternity covered in baked beans.

As well as all this, I have Remus Lupin and Severus Snape wandering around in my head. And are they fucking? No! They're arguing.

I hate my brain.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-02 10:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks so much, I'm never eating baked beans again.

Seriously though, I really liked that one, it reminds me of a Roald Dahl short story I read ages ago, where a wife kills her husband with a leg of lamb, then cooks it and feeds it to the officers investigating his disappearance. ^^

All I can say to this: "it just seems that dS has some kind of arcane magic surrounding it" is don't go to Nothing is sacred there.

I also loved: "Fraser had wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’d and high-tailed it out of there." I can absolutely imagine Ray saying/thinking that.

Huh, this comment is kind of upside down...

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-02 10:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks so much, I'm never eating baked beans again.

Mwahahaha! My work here is done. And I remember the Roald Dahl story - I think it was called 'Lamb to the Slaughter'? I really like his adult stories - there was one about a landlady who was poisoning and stuffing her guests that I used to love. And one about a man who invented a machine to write books.

All I can say is don't go to

Believe me, I have no intention. is a terrifying wilderness where you can wonder through the desert for weeks at a time before stumbling on an oasis. Never again. *g*

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-02 11:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
i second the never ever touching baked beans again!! everevereverEVER!

and I really want you to continue the random Fraser running out on Ray thing you have up there.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 12:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Sorry about that. Maybe I should have included a baked-bean related squick warning?

I wish I could continue it, but I have no idea what happens next. Whatever plot was once associated with it is long gone. I don't even know why Fraser ran away. He was emotionally fragile and scared of committment? He was late for work? Maybe I should put it to a vote. What would everyone like to see happen next?

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 12:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Warning: Contaminated Baked-bean Fiction ahead! yep, that needs to be added.... *g*

You really *need* to keep going with it! I don't even care if we see Fraser in the story... er, okay I lie... I do want to know what happened, but i think there's a ton of appeal in just all of Ray's reactions and thoughts and stuff.

I just want to see more of how Ray handles everything.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 12:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, you should totally put it to a vote! You could write the whole thing as a Choose Your Own Adventure, with polls at the end of every chapter, to determine what happens next or what Fraser's Secret Motivation is, or what someone will say.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 12:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Aw, I'm loving all the WiPs!! I hope you get inspired again. I particularly liked the sweetness of the Canada Day fic, and Ray quoting Hamlet in the first one. Plus the idea of them meeting as boys and keeping in touch all those years is lovely.

The original fics are awesome! The closing lines for the baked beans fic are particularly fabulous. DIsturbing and gross, but fabulous none the less.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 11:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! Oddly enough, laying them all out like this has given me a little jolt of enthusiasm, so it seems to have worked.

And I must apologise for the disturbing and gross baked bean fic. Although I suspect disturbed and gross was what ManLit Festival was looking for, so yay?

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 05:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Eeee, I love all these!

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 11:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm feeling a bit more inspired already, so it seems to have worked. *g*

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 08:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
So maybe not baked beans for lunch today....

I really enjoyed the Physio!Ray story in the first lines challenge and I'd love to see more of it especially after reading the excerpts above - I'm not bothered about poor planning or plot lackage even!

The Canada Day WIP is *gorgeous*
After a few minutes we pulled back, and Ray pointed to the garish decorations.

“I wanted to do something to celebrate. For you. Since, you know, you can’t actually celebrate Canada Day in Canada.”

“Oh, Ray.” I buried my face in his neck. How to explain that after a day at the Consulate I am heartily sick of maple leaves? That coming home to him is a joy and a pleasure, never more so than when his straightforward attitude and pragmatic good humour afford me an escape from a world of diplomacy I was never interested in?

“Thank you, Ray. They’re beautiful.”

“Freak.” He sounded embarrassed but pleased, and I hooked my fingers back in his pockets and danced him inexpertly over to the sofa.

Fraser. Sick of maple leaves. But telling Ray they're beautiful. Aawww!

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 11:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
No, no, the baked beans are fine! It was just a myth, I swear! ;-)

And thank you. I suspect I would be sick of maple leaves myself, if I was Fraser.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 12:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'm in love with your Letting Go AU.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 01:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! That's the kind of encouragement that always helps enormously when I don't feel like writing.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-04 12:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wonderful. And I see that you are back to working on it, which makes me very excited.

For how much I am a F/K S.3/4 person, Letting Go is probably the ep that I have watched more times than any others. I just have a thing about it, and can't get enough of scared, vulnerable Fraser working his way back from the darkness.

I don't even mind the whole goofy Rear Window homage, and I secretly kind of like the playful buddy type attraction Fraser has with the woman. It's about the only time that the chick-o-the-week that goes for Fraser doesn't bother me. She actually seems almost good for him, in that it's just lighthearted, after all the darkness.

I've wondered and speculated a little about how things would be different if Ray K had been on the scene when Victoria came back, but I've never seen this AU twist of Ray as physiotherapist, and I just LOVE this idea.

Have fun playing with it, and it would be lovely if it grows and takes off.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 01:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh God, you want us to tell you which one of these you should write? It's just like that scene in Sophie's Choice! I really like the genderfuck thing (Fraser AND Ray as girls sets off every single one of my femslash butons) and I really like that AU idea. Plus, hey, RayK being there for Fraser when his dad dies is so very sweet. I love that they quote Hamlet to each other and Fraser can't wait to get away from the funeral and begin to grieve with Ray. *swoon* Your Canada Day story could easily be its own little fic, and the opening to the mysteriously-titled "blowjob.doc" is a terrific bit of scene-setting. I'm anxious about what's happened to Fraser! Did he freak out and abandon poor Ray? *worries* I need to know! Write more!

But my biggest vote goes to your Letting Go physical therapist AU. I loved it when you first posetd it as a scene for the First Lines challenge like everyone else in the fandom, and I'm so pleased to see you're still working on developing it into a full-length fic. It's got soooo much going for it: a really intriguing plot, lots of lovely h/c, and you're doing something fascinating with the canon events to boot. Plus, Ray as a physical therapist. He's all stretchy in that opening bit in a way that makes my toes curl. I really, really hope you'll bump that one to the top of your list.

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 02:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I am, in fact, working on the Physiotherapist AU right this minute, so I'm glad that one was your choice! I was wondering, actually, if you'd be up for betaing part of it. Remember I said I wanted to write Ray and Fraser comparing Stella and Victoria? I thought it would make a good scene for this story, because Fraser is going to have to tell Ray about Victoria at some point. And given how enthusiastic you were about the idea, I was wondering if you'd look at the scene for me. Er, when I eventually write it. Please? There wouldn't be any hurry. *bats eyelashes*

(no subject)

Date: 2007-08-03 02:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I am, in fact, working on the Physiotherapist AU right this minute

Eeeee! That's so exciting!!!eleventy!!

I would totally be up for beta'ing, and I think you're right: that comparison is going to be a killer scene. I'd love to take a look at the whole thing, so send bits and pieces or the whole kit and caboodle whenever you're reading. I have tonnes of free time for beta'ing right now. Thanks so much for thinking of me, and I can't wait to get a sneak peak at this story!