FantaCwriter

pokes

2008-10-03T04:57:01Z

Wow, I had forgotten my password and actually, all about signing into LJ a lot of the time now. But, to make things simple, I want to share my myspace blog (not that I do a lot of them, anyway) with everyone to share in my excitement from last Saturday night. Yes, I am still flying high from it!!

A dream come true!!!

fantacwriter @ 2007-11-27T19:04:00

2007-11-28T01:05:05Z

I know some things aren't as funny if you're not so tired you have the silly giggles. This is my update of silly giggles that I know someone will get.

Last night, I didn't get in bed until 2. I was tired way before then but knew if I went to bed, I wouldn't do anything but lay there and talk. So the hubby and I went to bed and this was me: yakyakyakyakyakyakyakyakyakyakyakyakyak.

I was talking until nearly 4 and I had to be up at 6 for a fun day with my mom and grandmommie. But somewhere along the way, Shane decided to actively participate in the conversation instead of just listening and giving the appropriately timed "Mmhmms". I think it was about 3:15 when I started giggling about my typo (beard for breast). Now I had told him about it when it happened, but it got funnier as it got later. The conversation went like this:

Shane: How in the hell do you get breast and beard mixed up? They're not even anything alike!
Me: They both have brea...granted, not in that order, but it is there.
Shane: I still don't see how you did that. That's like mixing cock and coke. They're not anywhere fucking close to each other!
Me: I didn't do that one. Kim did it.
Shane: It doesn't matter. You were part of it. You typed catlick, too. *immitating someone saying that* "Boy, you sure are catlick. You like that, dont you?"
Me: *giggling* I also typed sexcited one time instead of excited.
Shane: Maybe that's where the catlick came in. HA! She was sexcited because of the catlick!
Me: *DIES DIES DIES*

Today, my daddy had two canisters of fruit. One was raisins and I ate some of them. I asked what the other was and thought it was dried prunes. Daddy made a face about the prunes and told me it was apricots. Conversation followed:

Daddy: Get you some apricots.
Me: Thanks, but I don't like them. I'm just going to eat some more raisins.
Daddy: No, get you some apricots. They're good.
Me: I'm sure they are, Daddy, but I don't like them.
Daddy: Yes you do, get a couple and eat them.
Me: *gets a couple of dried apricots and bites into one then spits it out* Yuck.
Daddy: Good, huh?
Me: No, I still don't like them.
Daddy: Why'd you eat it then?!

This is why I loved being a teacher--the humor. And being an English one at that makes it funnier

2007-11-14T05:27:35Z

GRAMMARICAL RULES TO LIVE BY
1. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
5. Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat.)
6. Also, always avoid annoying alliteration.
7. Be more or less specific.
8. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
9. Also too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.
10. No sentence fragments.
11. Contractions aren't necessary and shouldn't be used.
12. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
13. Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.
14. One should NEVER generalize.
15. Comparisons are as bad as cliches.
16. Don't use no double negatives.
17. Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.
18. One-word sentences? Eliminate.
19. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
20. The passive voice is to be ignored.
21. Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary. Parenthetical words however should be enclosed in commas.
22. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.
23. Kill all exclamation points!!!
24. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.
25. Understatement is always the absolute best way to put forth earth skaing ideas.
26. Use the apostrophe in it's proper place and omit it when its not needed.
27. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
28. If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: Resist hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.
29. Puns are for children, not groan readers.
30. Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.
31. Even IF a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.
32. Who needs rhetorical questions?
33. Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.
34. Proofrread carefully to see if you any words out.

Future (hopefully the next) Story scene plot bunny

2007-11-05T03:33:07Z

Just a scene that will hopefully fit into a story. It's pretty much the middle of it and the characters will be introduced way before this. We'll call it en medias res for the moment. As always, NC-17 for language. Chris is the star of this one.

"I can't get this damn thing to tie right," Chris grumbled as he tried for what felt like the millionth time to get the tie to his tuxedo secured and straightened. "I've worn one how many times? Countless, that's how many! To award shows, to parties, to state dinners. Fuckit!"

"Turn around," Duane said as he put his hands on Chris' shoulders and turned him to face him. "I know for a fact you don't wear tuxedos that much and it's always different when it's a groom's tux. Ask any of the other guys. We're all pros here. All of the nerves you've got will be gone as soon as the music starts playing and you look down the aisle and see your bride. There, tied and straightened."

Chris turned back to the mirror and reached up to adjust the tie again.

"Chris," William Lee drawled with his quiet southern Alabama accent from where he was sitting in a chair. "Leave the tie alone or we'll strip you down to just your boxers and socks, son. "

Chris gave a nervous laugh as he took a deep breath and nodded. He was fidgeting so much they had him take off his pants and jacket and lay them on the bed to keep them from getting wrinkled. He had been in the groom's room with Marissa's father and his three group-mates for over an hour. Her brothers had already been seating people as they arrived at Golden Era. He didn't know if his mother and sisters had made it yet or if they were even going to. He had waited until the last moment to tell them, but his mother wasn't that receptive to begin with when he introduced Marissa to her. Out of all the times he did need his family, this was it. He also needed a drink.

Hearing the laughter from the four men caused Chris to turn and look at them. He felt a pang in his heart to watch them and knew it was jealousy. How could they have made it over forty years together, living pretty much on top of each other, sharing one tour bus and traveling for over a hundred days a year, still be best friends and there for each other, no matter what? Marissa had told him about the falling out the group had one time in the late 1980's and kicked her dad out. But he was the first person they called when his position came vacant again just a few years later. They remained best friends through it all: through marriages, divorces, births, highs, lows, drug and alcohol addictions. They didn't think twice about being with Marissa's dad when he had a light heart attack after a show a couple of year before. These men weren't the big concert draws they used to be nor were they getting their new music played on the radio, yet they still continued recording and doing shows because it's what they loved.

Where the fuck are the four that should be here with me right now? Chris thought. This is the day I want...I need them with me, more than any other day in my life. Why are aren't they here?

"Dad?" There was a soft knock on the door and Marissa's brother Rusty stuck his head in. "Any word yet? Almost all the guests are here."

"Shit," Chris swore softly, looking at his watch.

He had lost all track of time and didn't know it was as late as it was. Fifteen minutes until the ceremony was to start. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other and rocked back and forth before quickly walking across the room to the window. He flung back the curtains and looked out at the white grounds. There had been a fresh snow-fall since he arrived and the wind was blowing in new snow in hypnotic swirls.

"Rusty, get out," William Lee told his son. "Chris is nervous enough with out your help."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed when Chris turned to him, his brown eyes big and frightened. "I'll...do something."

"Why isn't Misa here yet?" Chris asked, rubbing a hand over his face as Rusty shut the door in his quick retreat. "Fuck, I pushed for this too much. She wasn't ready and now we've got all those people out there and she's not here. She's standing me up. This is great!"

"Chris," Richard chuckled lowly as he stood and walked over to the younger man, rubbing his shoulders. "She hasn't stood you up. They're just taking their time. Women do that and it takes them forever to get ready. Trust me."

"But the weather's bad, too," he couldn't stop now. "What if they can't get out? Or if they had an accident? What if the car's in a ditch somewhere..."

"Christopher," Richard said, his deep voice stern with him now. "They'll be here. None of them will let her be late on purpose. Everyone is looking forward to this and even if it starts a few minutes late, they will be here."

"I gotta see for myself," Chris said, stepping away and grabbing his pants to put on. He hopped on one foot, then the other as he pulled his pants up and zipped them.

"Joey," William Lee said.

"On it," Joe agreed, snaking out an arm and quickly snagging Chris before he got to the door. He looked wirey, but was deceptively strong. "Chill out, Chris."

Someone's cell phone rang and Chris jumped.

"Easy," Joe chuckled as Richard excused himself to step outside and take the call. "You'd think you've never done this before."

"I haven't."

Chris' eyes burned and pooled with tears. He was on the verge of tears. He was nervous, almost to the point of being terrified that something had happened, that either she had stood him up or was hurt and he couldn't get to her.

"Hey," Richard said, sticking his head back in the door. "That was Donna. They're running a little behind because of the snow and detour on the highway. They hope to be here in about ten more minutes. I'll go tell everyone what's going on."

"See, son, I told you she wasn't going to leave you at the altar."

fantacwriter @ 2007-11-02T12:15:00

2007-11-02T17:15:51Z

48 something thousand.

fantacwriter @ 2007-11-01T18:09:00

2007-11-01T23:10:53Z

So I'm not exactly participating in the NANOWRIMO or whatever that thing is. I think it would be cool as hell to do that, but I'm more in a fanfic mind right now.

So I'm going to do my own version of it for fanfic. Go me?

Little Red Truck (short visual)

2007-11-01T02:59:51Z

Muwahahaha if I was ever going to hell for something I wrote...this would be it.

The summer had been hot and dry to date. In fact, it was breaking old records and setting new ones with each day that passed. If it hadn't been for the heavy dew every morning, I think my herd would have called it quits long before now. Their drinking pond was close to drying up and what little bit of grass they did have to eat in the pasture was sparse and less than nutritious. And that morning dew was more than enough to cause my lawn to grow.

But, I smiled and pretended like everything would be all right. He had enough to deal with during his time on the road and the few days he could steal away with me did not need to be spent with me worrying. There was plenty of time for that once he was gone again. I heard the mower in the front yard sputter before cutting off. Then I heard him shout a few words most people would be surprised to hear him, of all people, say. I tossed another forkful of hay down from the barn loft onto the back of my little red truck. A loud clank followed by a howl of pain assured me he had reached the end of his rope with my worn-out mower. I grinned, jamming the pitchfork into what little bit of hay there was left. I cautiously made my way across the old loft and down the wooden ladder. It was so old and creaky that I think it was there when my grandfather bought this farm.

I hopped in my truck and cranked it, the radio blasting some song from a country station he had tuned it to. He was so funny sometimes. I backed out of the barn and down the hill, stopping under the shade tree next my front porch. Getting out of the truck, I caught sight of him, standing over the mower, pretending he knew what he was doing. I had to dig my nails into my hands to keep from laughing. He was always trying to prove how much he knew and was still the same person, despite the lavish lifestyle he lived. I wondered if that had anything to do with him always insisting on helping me around the place every time he came to visit. Shaking my head, I went into the house. It was so old that it would have been cheaper to get a new place to live than to get air-conditioning. Even the outlets I had wouldn t support a window unit, so I had learned to live with the heat. Luckily, I had a few old paddle-fans and some shade trees to keep the house from being as stifling as it probably should have been. I filled up two big glasses of lemonade and brought them outside.

He was sitting on the tail-gate to my truck, his feet dancing along the ground to some song he was singing. His blonde hair was plastered to his head from the work he had been doing and I could see where his arms were turning red from being in the sun. The start of his very own farmer s tan. I wondered if the others ever wondered what he did whenever he took a few days off. Probably nothing like this. As I got closer to him, I realized he was singing the song that was on the radio when I left the barn.

It was the hottest day of summer and the final high school dance was just about over. I was old enough for the taste of love, when boys turned in to men. I ll never forget, I ll remember it yet, the taste of that clear, pure water. But those preacher s words could not be heard when sweet Bonnie Lou gave in. Do you wanna go to heaven..

"Going to give up the pop career and go country?"

He turned to look at me, a grin running across his mischievous face that reached his shining blue eyes. He patted the tail-gate for me to sit beside him as he took a glass of lemonade.

"Nah," he said, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid. "Just having some fun singing a song that reminds me of you. "

"You didn t know me in high school, Brian," I reminded, hopping up beside him.

"I know, but something about you giving in..."

I laughed, pushing playfully on his shoulder. He never failed to surprise me with the things he said. Everything he had been portrayed as in the media was so not like him. Thank goodness, because there was no way I could ever have done the things with him I did if he really was like that.

"Eww..." I said, wiping my hands on my cut-off jeans. "You're all sweaty."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly, causing droplets of his perspiration to fly into the air. I made a face, moving my glass away from him.

"Yeah, well, you re no snowy day yourself," he informed me, reaching up to brush a smudge off my cheek.

"That made absolutely no sense," I told him, swiping at his hand.

He held the cold glass to his forehead, a look of contentment on his face as he did so. I snickered, then immediately regretted it. He took another drink, tilting the glass back and shaking it to get a cube of ice out. Cutting his eyes deviously at me, he took the ice out of his mouth and popped it down the front of my shirt before I knew what had happened. I screamed as the frozen water hit my scorching skin.

"Oh, it s on now," I warned, preparing to get my own ice after him.

But he was so much quicker than I was and had another piece in his hand, ready for assault. Squealing with laughter, I tried to get away, only to have him catch me by the arm and pull me backwards into the hay. As I struggled, looking a lot like a turtle on its back, he was on top of me, threatening to pour the whole glass down my front. I laughed hard, screaming in protest as he straddled me, holding my legs between his own. In my movements, I accidentally knocked the glass out of his hand, spilling its sticky contents on us both. He yelp in surprise at the feel of it.

"Now see what you ve done," he chastised me, pulling his shirt away from his skin. "I wasn't really going to do that."

"Oops."

"Oops? Oops?" He repeated, looking down at me.

A light breeze was beginning to pick up and I wouldn't have noticed except for the fact that it brought his scent to my nose. He smelled like a man. A man who had been out in the sun, working hard, all day long. His sweat was mingling with the soap he had used that morning, a fascinatingly sexy combination with the scent of the fresh cut grass. I stopped struggling and looked up at him.

"I got some of the lemonade on me, too," I said, hoping he would see the humor in it.

He leaned down, flicking his tongue across my throat.

"Yep, you did," he answered, smacking his lips at the taste the sweet drink and my skin mixed together. "You know, I think you got more on you than I did on me."

I started to agree, but got sidetracked as his hands were suddenly under my shirt and unhooking my bra. He pushed the cups away and molded his hands to my breast, this time placing his lips on my collar bone and sucking. I moaned, pleasantly surprised and twined my fingers through his blonde locks. He chuckled softly, moving his hands down my belly and to the top of my shorts. I knew by the way he was moving his mouth on me, I would have a nice memento of the occasion come tomorrow morning. Great. While I was thinking how I could cover it up in 100 degree weather, he had undone the button and zipper on my shorts and his hand was now touching me, making me even hotter.

"Brian," I gasped as he slipped a finger into me, teasing and touching in all the right places.

"Hmm?" He said.

At least, I think that s what he said. I was close to seeing stars in the middle of the afternoon as he ran his tongue up and down the side of my neck.

Any ideas or words I was about to tell him were completely forgotten as he pushed himself into me. I arched up towards him, inhaling sharply as my body quickly adjusted to this sudden invasion. I don't even know when he undid his shorts and got mine out of the way. Damn, he's good, I thought, staring into his blue eyes with wonder. He gave me that naughty smile I love so much, pulling my legs up closer to him, allowing him to go deeper in me. Soon, we were in a rhythm that only he could create while giving long, slow, delicious thrusts into me. A rare talent and any woman is lucky to find a man with such. The sun beat down on us, but I didn't care. Sweat beaded on his face, more now from his exertion as he pumped hard into me than when he had been cutting grass. Unable to stop myself, I pulled him closer to me, raising up to meet him and darted my tongue across his forehead, wanting to taste him. He groaned in pleasure as I did that and began to drive harder. I echoed his unintelligible words, the feeling so incredible that I didn't even pay any mind to the hay poking me in the back. Feeling him stop moving, I looked up into his beautiful face. He wore an expression of painful pleasure and I could feel him throbbing within me.

As he eased out of me for one last time, I steadied myself for what I knew was coming next. He plunged into me deeper and harder than any time before, his entire body shuddering with the release he had found. I could feel my own climax begin as he let his take control. As he rode his out, I thrust and pushed against him, my hands gripping tightly on his biceps, and my thighs locking against his, holding him there.

"I can't...no more..." He panted, his arms quivering beneath my touch as I finished.

I slowly released him and he collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing heavily. Just then, a clap of thunder in the distance sounded and a welcomed rain began to fall.

"Damn," he swore, his face against my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, wondering what could be wrong after that.

"If it rains, that means I ll have to cut the grass again."

Uhm, wtf plot muses and bunnies?

2007-10-26T02:08:15Z

Dear muses and plot bunnies running amok in my head,

Yeah, hi. Remember me? I'm the one who you all are driving insane. For nearly four years, I went without any inspiration to write. You left me right after I started two BSB stories--a Nick and an AJ--and basically abandoned me after getting me 12 chapters into a Lance fic and three into a Chris story. But then you tried to make it up to me by staying with me through these wonderful years of writing in role-play. And for that, I am thankful.

Then you come back into my life for writing in something other than RP. Thank you for the wonderful JC story that you would not stop playing in my mind until I wrote it. Thank you for the sudden desire to write my Justin story that started off as a joke and quickly rolled into one I wanted to see how it would play out.

But now, you won't even let me finish that one before you start putting these incredibly dark storyline ideas into my head. Like the one of someone being kidnapped and held by these serial killers and made to make sex videos before being killed but is rescued before the murders happen? And the aftermath of that? Or what about that one of JC being a drug addict and forcing himself on a woman? You know I don't like to portray any of those guys in those lights because I don't know them and it's just wrong. Let me write it as an original fic, but no, you insist on them being fanfics. We will have to come to some kind of agreement on this.

But seriously, muses and bunnies, let me finish this one I'm deeply involved in before you start bugging me to write another. It's the polite thing to do.

Sincerely,
April/FantaCwriter/Sugar Magnolia (depending on which writing mode I'm in at that time)

Survivor (originally on Take Time To Dream)

2007-10-24T00:57:47Z

One of my favorite BSB fics I wrote with "the other half of my brain" Jennifer a few years ago. It started when she called me up one day and said "I want us to write a story together. I have the first scene in my head, I just need a name for the girl." To which I replied "Okay. Her name is Bailey Brooks Townsend. Go write and I'll see what you did and pick up the next chapter." And so began the April and Jennifer writing team. lol We were quite the dynamic duo with A&J productions. She'd write a chapter, post it and then leave me to write the next and so on and so forth. So on this story, she had the odd number chapters and I had the even. Most couldn't even tell it was two writers until they noticed the different names posting it on the messageboard. Hahaha And yes, the cliffhangers were just to see where either she or I would take it next.

Survivor Chapter 1

"Bailey, you're gonna DIE when you see this place! It's amazing!" Leslie squealed though the phone.

"I can't wait to get there!" Bailey laughed, holding her hand over her ear to block out the noise of the airport. "Tell the girls to have that hot tub ready and waiting for me. My plane's been delayed in Dallas, but I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Ok, girl. Love you!" Leslie said.

"You too!" Bailey said, hanging up.

Bailey Brooks Townsend sighed as she sat back in the uncomfortable naugahyde chair in the terminal waiting area. She ran her fingers through her long, pale blonde hair and looked out the window. The plane that was supposed to take her to Aspen was sitting at the gate with all kinds of mechanics crawling all over it. She had been sitting there, waiting to board for the past three hours, and she was getting irritable. Her Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority sisters were already at their friend Mandi's house in Aspen, and she wanted to be there NOW! They had been planning this trip for six months.This Thanksgiving week ski trip was to be their last hoorah before they settled in for final exams. No boys allowed, she thought, smiling. Just us girls. Of course, when she told her daddy about the trip, he wasn't at all pleased that she'd be missing Thanksgiving dinner with his new wife, Pam, but she just couldn't stand the thought of sitting down with that woman and trying to have a peaceful dinner. Bailey's mom had died when she was only 11, and she had taken good care of her daddy. She knew it was inevitable that he would eventually remarry, but this Pam woman was just... horrible. She only married daddy for his money, of that Bailey was sure. Pam was only 28 years old, a mear seven years older than Bailey herself. How could daddy do this? He was thinking with the wrong head, Bailey figured. Thank goodness he had decided to let her go on this trip so she could avoid her new step-monster.

Bailey looked up at the ticket agent, who was talking on the phone. The agent had an uncomfortable look on her face and was telling whoever was on the phone that there was no way she could do something. Finally, she hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She got on the intercom and made an announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen... due to mechanical problems, the flight from Dallas to Denver has been cancelled. We're sorry for any inconvenience that this may have caused, but we'll try to get you on the next available flights."

A cry of outrage rose from the crowd gathered at the terminal. Bailey ran up to the ticket agent's counter.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she exclaimed. "I have to be in Aspen tonight! I can't sit in this damned airport and wait for you to find me a flight!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't do anything else," the agent said, shaking her head.

"That's not good enough!" Bailey yelled impatiently. "I am not going to sit in an airport all night! I can't do this! I'm supposed to be in Aspen!"

"Sorry," the agent said, shrugging her shoulders.

Bailey grabbed her backpack and stomped away. She began to cry as she dug in her purse for her cell phone. She had to call Daddy. The terminal was so noisy, she looked around for a quiet place to make a call. She ducked into the nearest courtesy lounge. She had no idea which airline it was for, and thankfully, there was no attendant inside to check for her membership.

"Daddy!" she cried, as soon as she got him on the line. "They cancelled my flight! "

"Oh, I'm sorry baby!" Daddy crooned. "Do you want me to see if I can get you a room at the Hilton for the night?"

"Noooo," Bailey sniffed. "I guess I'll just sit here and wait."

"My poor baby," Daddy said. "If you had just come home instead of planning that ski trip, none of this would have happened, you know."

"Oh Daddy, stop it!" Bailey exclaimed. "You know why I didn't want to come home! I can't stand that WOMAN you married, and we both would have been miserable trying to make nicey-nice for the entire week."

"Honey, you and Pam are going to have to learn to get along. She's your stepmother now, sweetheart. You've got to accept that."

"I do NOT have to accept that. I won't accept it! She's young enough to be your daughter!" Bailey wailed. She hung up the phone and began to sob into her hands.

Nick Carter and Kevin Richardson sat quietly across the lounge, un-noticed by Bailey. Nick looked at Kevin and shrugged. Kevin shook his head and rolled his eyes. Another spoiled little rich girl, he thought. A hot little rich girl, but she seemed like a spoiled brat to him. Nick, of course, was smitten immediately. The girl's long blonde hair and huge blue eyes attracted him like a moth to a flame. Nick stood and walked over to her.

"You ok?" he asked quietly, standing over her. She looked up and wiped her eyes.

"I'm ok. I'm just supposed to be in Aspen tonight with my sorority sisters, and they cancelled my flight," Bailey sniffed. Nick sat down beside her.

"You want a drink?" he asked.

"Yeah. A diet coke would be nice," she replied, smiling through her tears.

"Ok," Nick laughed. He walked over to the courtesy bar and poured her a diet coke. He put it in her hands and sat back down beside her.

"I'm Nick," he said, smiling. For the first time, she recognized him.

"Oh my God,I know who you are! You're that guy!" she exclaimed. "You're that Backstreet Boy! I can't remember your name, but I know the face. Oh wow!"

"I'm Nick," Nick laughed. "And that's Kevin."

Bailey turned and looked at Kevin, and her eyes grew huge. "Oh, this is just too weird," she laughed.

"Listen, Kev and I chartered a plane to Vale. If you want, you can hitch a ride with us, and maybe you can rent a car or get someone to pick you up and take you to Aspen once you get there," Nick said, smiling. Kevin let out a hiss from the other side of the room. Nick glanced over and Kevin was shaking his head no.

"Oh my God! That would be so awesome! Are you sure?" Bailey exclaimed, hugging Nick. His face was instantly buried in her soft blonde hair, and he caught the scent of her expensive perfume. He closed his eyes and smiled as he hugged her back.

"No problem," Nick laughed.

"You guys are the best!" she squealed, jumping up to hug Kevin. He patted her back and gave Nick an eat shit look over her shoulder. Nick smiled brightly at Kevin.

"No problem," Kevin said, not sounding very convincing. Bailey immediately got on her cell phone and called Daddy back. She explained that she was catching a ride on a chartered plane with her new friends, and she'd call him when she got to Vale. Daddy wasn't happy that his baby girl was going to be associating with... rock stars, but there was nothing he could do about it from Tennessee.

"Guys, please let me chip in on the cost of the flight," Bailey said, digging in her purse for her wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"No! Put your money away," Nick said, pushing her hand away. "It's my treat. You seem like a sweet girl."

"Thank you so much," she said. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Oh! I'd better go get my luggage!"

"I'll go with you," Nick said, pulling on his baseball cap. Kevin rolled his eyes once again. Nick... always thinking with the wrong head...

Bailey and Nick went to the baggage claim area and Nick pulled Bailey's Kate Spade luggage off the conveyer. Expensive stuff, he thought. Daddy must be loaded.

"You are so sweet," Bailey said, hanging onto Nick's arm as he pulled her suitcase behind them. Nick smiled. It had been a long time since he had been with a normal girl. He was kind of enjoying this.

Once they reached the courtesy lounge, Kevin told them it was time to board the plane. They walked down the ramp and got onto the luxury private jet that belonged to Jive Records. They were the only passengers on the plane. Bailey sat down in one of the leather chairs and opened her purse. She ran her brush through her hair until it shone like silk, then touched up her blotched makeup and reapplied her lipstick. Nick watched in fascination. She was so graceful and lady-like. He was just amazed by her. Kevin watched Nick watching Bailey, and he let out an amused snort. Nick turned and gave him a nasty look.

"You're pathetic," Kevin whispered. "She's a baby."

"To you maybe, Old Man," Nick replied. "But I believe she's just about my age."

"Chonologically, maybe," Kevin said. "But what I mean is she's daddy's baby. Look at her. Kate Spade bags. Sorority sisters. She's obviously a spoiled brat."

"Oh shut up. You're just jealous cause she likes me," Nick said, smiling.

"Yeah. Whatever," Kevin replied, shaking his head.

Nick sat in the chair beside Bailey and they began to talk.

"So tell me about yourself," Nick said, smiling. Bailey noticed he had the straightest, whitest teeth she had ever seen. She laughed a little.

"Well, I'm Bailey Townsend. I'm 21. I'm a junior at the University of Tennessee. I'm a Kappa. I'm majoring in interior design. Hmmm... what else do you want to know?"

Nick laughed to himself. This was certainly different... college girl. SORORITY girl, at that. He couldn't remember the last time he had been around anybody like her. If EVER.

"Well," he said, "tell me about your life."

Bailey laughed again. "Hmmm... let's see. My daddy's name is Robert Townsend. He owns an advertising agency in Nashville. My mom died when I was eleven. Her name was Elizabeth. I have a puppy named Tippy. He's a Maltese. I don't have any brothers or sisters, but my dad just married a twinkie named Pam who's young enough to be my sister. "

As she talked, Nick looked her over. Gorgeous. That was the only way he could describe her. Her hair was naturally pale blonde. That he could tell immediately. Her eyes were a deep blue, and were just so big, she looked like one of those Precious Moments dolls. She had a perfect nose. He wasn't sure if that was natural or not... Her hands were beautiful. Perfectly manicured nails. She probably got them done once a week. She smelled delicious.

"What kind of perfume is that?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Tea Rose," she said, smiling. "My mom always wore it, and I just picked up the habit a few years ago."

"It smells nice," he said, smirking.

"Thanks you," she replied, shyly.

The plane taxied down the runway and took off. Kevin reclined in his seat and closed his eyes for the flight. He couldn't believe Nick. He was making a fool of himself, as usual. This girl was nothing more than a vapid sorority girl who probably couldn't even tie her own shoes without calling daddy to have him hire someone to do it for her. Kevin was not impressed.

Bailey sucked in a deep breath as they took off. "Oh, I'm not a very good flyer," she said, grasping Nick's hand.

"That's ok. I'll hold your hand," he replied. "I'm used to this travelling thing."

"Well, I travel a lot, too, but it doesn't make it any easier."

As the flight wore on, Nick and Bailey continued to talk. Bailey never once asked him what it was like being a Backstreet Boy, or what it was like being famous. She asked questions about his family, and what he liked to do when he was off. It was as if his career meant nothing at all to her. After awhile, she let go of his hand and reclined in the chair. He did the same. They both closed their eyes and began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly a big jolt made all three of them sit up at once.

"SHIT! What the hell was that?" Nick exclaimed, looking back at Kevin.

"I don't know," Kevin said, getting up from his seat. He walked up to the front of the plane and opened the cockpit door.

"What happened?" he asked the pilot.

"Lightning," the pilot replied. Kevin could see sweat forming on the pilot's forehead.

"We got hit by LIGHTNING?" Kevin exclaimed. "But it's not raining."

"Ever heard of thunder-snow?" the pilot said, not looking up from the controls.

"No. Is everything ok?"

The pilot finally looked up at him, and Kevin could see fear in his eyes. "I've got to set her down," he said quietly. "The electrical system's fried."

"Set her DOWN? We're over the fucking Rocky Mountains! Where do you expect to set her DOWN?" Kevin yelled. Nick and Bailey overheard, and Bailey grabbed Nick's hand again.

"Oh God," Bailey muttered. "We're gonna die."

"No we're not," Nick said, trying to hide his fear. Inside, he was terrified.

Kevin walked to the back of the plane and strapped himself in again. He was as pale as a ghost. The plane began to vibrate roughly, and Bailey started to cry. They could feel themselves losing altitude quickly.

"Oh God Oh God Oh God..." Bailey whispered over and over again. She squeezed Nick's hand tight. Nick looked out the window, but all he could see was the inky blackness of the night sky. Kevin said a silent prayer, asking forgiveness for all the terrible things he had done in his life. Nick prayed that his death would be quick. Bailey prayed that she would survive the crash. As soon as the plane touched down, it skidded sideways, struck a tree and began to flip over and over again.

All Bailey could hear was the sound of her own screams and the metal scraping against trees. She felt herself being torn away from Nick's hand. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stopped. It was dark and quiet. She landed on her side, still strapped into the seat. She unbelted herself and stood up shakily. She looked at her surroundings. The plane was in pieces... all over the place. Little flames licked pieces of the debris. It was so dark outside now, and snow was falling. It was freezing cold. She began to look around for Nick, Kevin, and the pilot, but it was so dark. She realized she was still clutching her Prada purse, and somehow she remembered that she had a flashlight on her keychain. She pulled it out and began searching again. She heard a moan and lifted a piece of metal. It was Kevin.

"Kevin! Are you ok?" she exclaimed, falling to her knees beside him.

"Yeah. I think so," Kevin said, unbuckling himself. "Where's Nick?"

"I don't know. I'm looking."

Kevin took the flashlight from her and began searching desperately for Nick. He found the pilot, who was obviously dead. He threw pieces of debris out of the way until he saw Nick's foot sticking out from under a large piece of metal. He lifted it with all the strength he had and threw it off of him.

"Nick! Nicky! Talk to me, buddy!" Kevin yelled, shaking Nick gently. Nick opened his eyes and blinked a few times.

"Kev?" he said softly. "What the hell happened?"

"We crashed, man. We went down. You ok?"

"Yeah. But my arm hurts pretty bad," Nick moaned. Kevin looked at Nick's arm, and could tell that it was broken.

"Come on," Kevin said, helping Nick up. "We've gotta try to find a radio or something."

"Bailey?" Nick said. "Where's Bailey?"

"I'm here, Nick. I'm fine," she answered.

"Thank God," Nick sighed.

Heaven's Just A Sin Away (Originally on Take Time To Dream)

2007-10-17T00:45:00Z

This is a visual I wrote a year or so ago for a challenge in a BSB fandom writing group/message board I was a member of. It was getting close to Halloween and we decided to see what we could come up with. Here's mine and as always to be on the safe-side...rated NC-17:

His dark eyes gazed through the smoky atmosphere of the bar. He really hadn't ventured out like this in a long time, but things had become settled and complacent. If there was one thing he disliked, that was complacency. He hated anything that was comfortable. And it had gotten too lax, everyone lulled into a false sense of security.

From across the room, her movements caught his eye. She was almost inconspicuous, blending in with the woodwork. But she had this inner-light about her that was like a beacon, drawing him. He sat down his drink and snuffed out his cigarette before making his way to her. She was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling friends. His head ached as he read the thoughts of those women. They wanted him. They always wanted him. He knew any of them would gladly spend the night with him and in the end, offer to give him anything he wanted. He didn't want them. He wanted her.

As he approached, she looked up suddenly, her pouty pink lips slightly open as she fought for breath. He knew she felt him. Only certain ones could feel him. He focused his gaze on her, seeing the panicked, then almost orgasmic expression that crossed her face. He smirked to himself. She definitely was the one.

As he drew closer, her friends parted to either side, allowing him to travel through the middle. He took her hand in his, kissing the back of it as he leaned jauntily against the bar.

"Hi," he said, his voice immediately conjuring up thoughts of walking barefoot on wet gravel. "I'm AJ."

"Hi," she replied, her voice sweet, almost breathy from the feelings coursing through her at the mere touch of his hand. �I�m Angelica.�

Locking his gaze with hers, his eyes bore deep into hers, skimming her very soul. He then leaned in close, whispering in her ear.

"I just bet you are."

Angelica's face flushed as she unconsciously bit her lower lip to keep from moaning aloud. This guy was good. Almost too good. He arched one of his meticulously trimmed eyebrows at her, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him as he led her to the dance floor. She followed willingly, her skin burning at his touch.

The lights began to pulse to the hypnotic beat of some seductive song playing loudly in the club. Looking into her eyes, he began to grind close to her, willing her to follow and let her inhibitions go. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she found herself dancing intimately with him, the rest of the club slowly disappearing into the recesses of her mind. Those dark, mesmerizing eyes of his held her attention. The scent of his cologne infiltrated her senses and his thoughts caressed her in ways no lover�s touch ever had. Slowly, she gave into the ideas he was putting forth in her mind. Letting her head fall back as he held a hand on the small of her back, their hips pounding together to the sexual rhythm of the song, her eyes closed and a small moan escaped from her open mouth.

He pulled her closer, his hands now on her hips, guiding her to him. She raised her head and found herself in a place completely different than she remembered five seconds prior. She tried to comprehend how it could be the same place, yet totally different.

"Don't question, just live it," his raspy voice soothed her fears immediately. "Just let me love you."

Angelica focused her eyes again on the handsome visage staring back at her. Her hands traveled along his bare torso, her nails slightly digging into his skin as he drove himself into her again and again.

No, she thought. This is a dream. We were just dancing at that club. We can't be�

"We are, Angel," he growled in her ear, his hand at the back of her head as he devoured her lips in a hungry kiss.

The first kiss they had shared. One in which he erased all doubts she had, any confusion as to how they had ended up there, joined intimately, without having left the dance floor.

"Someone will see us," she gasped, taking him into her, wrapping a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

"No one can see us. I've fixed that," he responded, his face growing flush with his building release.

"But.." she began, only to be silenced with the animalistic moan that erupted from deep within him as he climaxed, kissing her hard on the mouth, bringing her over with him.

Angelica awoke the next morning to unfamiliar surroundings and an unusual throbbing deep within her body. Swallowing hard, she propped up her elbows.

"Hello, Angelica," AJ said, smiling and brushing a stray hair away from her face.

"AJ," she said, vaguely remembering the night before. "Where? Where am I?"

"You're home."

"Home?" She queried, confused.

"Yes, my sweet one," he whispered, leaning in and brushing a kiss across her lips. "Our home. My beautiful wife."

"Wife? Home?�" She blinked, trying to clear her head.

AJ smiled, raising up and gesturing with a flourish of his hand, lighting the entire place.

"Yes, my wife, to rule with me in our home. Welcome to Hell."

In Another Life background

2007-10-15T05:34:51Z

So now is the time I should be asleep because I've got so much stuff going on and it's keeping my mind running in circles talking to myself. And the craziest thing about it? I'm not getting answers I need or want. Pfftt.

I'm thinking that I'm going to start posting my stories here because I just want them somewhere I can easily get to them and LJ isn't overrun with rumors of it closing down...I don't think. Anyway, this will be like a third back up for them since I have some posted at a journal on GJ and backed up on a disc, as well as in a couple of media sites. I'll also get a chance to tag and keep them together here as well. Not that I can't do it on GJ, but I need to use this journal anyway. That makes sense, even in my sleep-deprived mind.

So first up will be In Another Life, the first real fanfic I started AND finished after a four year hiatus. Haha, listen to me, sounding so important and calling it a hiatus. Honestly, I got addicted to the instant feedback in role-playing so I kind of fell out of sorts with actual writing but then one day, this one popped into my head and just would not leave until I sat down to write. I based a lot of the characters on people I knew growing up and the grandmother was loosely based on my granny and her mother. The name Daisy came from my great-granny and most of the spunky spitfire came from my granny. I never thought when I was writing this story that I would end up losing her in August. It saddens me so much that she's no longer with us, but at least I was able to capture her spirit in a character and I know if she had known I was using her as a model for a character, she'd be flattered and a little embarrassed, but oh so proud of me. I just wish I had a picture to use for the female lead in this story. I don't know if I'll ever be able to find one of her, but I think I did a pretty good job in describing her looks and her personality.

Now, to post the prologue.

Husbands, fanfics, and other ramblings

2006-07-14T19:08:06Z

I've come to the realization that even if people complain and insist the don't like the dreaded "Mary Sue" of fanfic world, if that concept is given good writing, it will be welcomed with open arms. I've been writing for as long as I can remember and just love writing fanfics. I used to hide from my husband that I was doing it...it seemed...cheap and tawdry. But now that I'm a little older, I just don't give a rip. I'll give him the basic concept/storyline for it and then see what his reaction is. I know there are times I need someone to pull me in when I get a little carried away and he's one of the best ones to do it.

The story, I'm working on now, In Another Life, is my first attempt at actual writing in three and a half years. I've been nervous, thinking I had gotten out of the swing of things and had gotten lazy with the short descriptions used in roleplay. Apparently, though, the muse to do "real writing" is still there. Go me. Last night, I was in the middle of an angst filled scene and needed to make sure something I was putting out there worked. Granted, not many who read fanfics, or anything else for that matter, will stop and say "Oh no. That is totally not going to happen. You can't believe that. Why aren't they putting more realism into it?!" But being like I am, I asked the hubby a question on the law. (He's been through law school and is working on passing the bar). I had to corner him as he came out of the shower and tell him point blank that I just wanted a simple answer and none of the bullshit he usually gives me. Save that for the courtroom, buddy. After half an hour, I finally get a straight answer not shrouded in some mysterious legal terminology from the hubby. In the process, I have to explain the concept of the storyline. His reaction? "It's stupid!! No one does that anymore! There aren't any arranged marriages? How do you know people still do that? You can't force someone to marry you! That's just...preposterous, April!" Jackass. I didn't ask him what he thought of my plotline, but apparently it was a freebie thrown in with the legal help. He got all upset about it and I had to gently remind him...it's fiction, none of the people actually exist or have been through this situation. And at least I didn't use the term "pogo stick".

The introduction

2006-05-28T05:25:23Z

As many times as I've written intros to characters, both in fanfiction and other forms of writing, it's still the ones about myself that are the most difficult to compose. What do I want to say about myself? Is it possible to keep some kind of secrecy when there are people out there who know the person behind the name? Am I just sounding pompous and obnoxiously verbose now? Let's make it simple, then and start with the basics of who I am.

The name FantaCwriter comes from a Sandra Brown book called FantaC. I came across it a few years ago while working in a library and shelving the large print books. It's a great book if anyone's looking for some romantic brain candy. I'm actually a big fan of hers and there was just something about the name written "Fanta C" that stuck in my head. Years later, when I discovered the wonderful realm of fanfiction, I noticed lots of people were using pseudonyms and I wanted one, too, and the first one that came to mind was the title that book. So I decided hey, it's good, I'll use it! It's funny, though, considering I've really only used that name when writing Nsync fanfic. Maybe my subconscious has always thought of them as being naughtier than BSB?

That was a pretty good segue into my writings, wasn't it? I became a fan of the two high-priests of boybands around 1999-2000. I was teaching at that time and my students were crazy about Nsync and the Backstreet Boys. Being the cool teacher that I was, I would let them listen to their CD's in class if they were good and doing their work. Gotta love private schools. By the summer of 2001, I had stumbled upon a few messageboards dedicated to the two groups and one actually introduced me to the beauty of fanfiction. It made perfect sense to me and having always wanted to be a writer and holding a degree in English, I decided to give it a go. I haven't looked back since.

I tend to put a lot of elements that I'm familiar with in my writings. If I have an idea for something and I'm not "knowledgeable" on that topic and don't have anyone I can call on to tap into their experience, I will go the extra mile and research it. I'm very big on credibility and plots being believable; therefore I only "write what I know". Being born and raised in a small Southern town, I tend to keep my stories and female characters in places I'm familiar with or feel some sort of a connection. Nothing irritates me more than to read a story where I sit and swear at the screen because of some ridiculous twist or unbelievable plotine or character. Well, that and sex in a story just for the sake of it being there. However, I am not without guilt on that. I'll admit that I did it in my first story, but it was only because that was what all of us thought it was about in the beginning. I quickly learned to work around that and actually use my background and love of literature and words to create stories that I would want to read if I came across them. I also became one of the biggest feedback whores at this time. Even though I write for myself first and foremost, I love to know that people are reading and have some kind of reaction to my writings.

Because I'm well over 21, all of my stories have adult language and themes in them, written by an adult for adults to read. I love AU stories and crossovers. Slash isn't top on my list, but I will read it and have even found a few that I really like. I don't think I really have a preference when it comes to particular lead males in stories, just as long as they're believable and not a caricature of the real people. I love when authors take and make an established "person" their own. I love to see more than just the public persona that's accepted of one of the guys. I'll even take dark as long as it's not too over the top and improbable. But when it comes down to it, I love the sweet, dreaded Mary Sue plotlines. I see nothing wrong with them and maybe, one day, I'll give my reasoning on why they are the best things ever.

And there you have it--all that is me. In this journal, you'll find some stories that I started a while back and never finished for whatever reason. Hopefully, I'll find the muse for them again and finish them. I might talk about a fic that I've read and really like or one that just makes me say "huh?". I'll probably include some character development pages for random characters that pop into my head. I can almost guarantee you there will be some random ramblings on a tv show that I've seen and found fascinating or a book I've read. There won't be any profound musings or deep opinings going on in here.

Feel free to friend me and let me know how you found this journal. Comment and leave suggestions or feedback if you like. All are welcome.