NaNoLog: Day 8
Nov. 8th, 2006 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cowboyguySo, I'm still only around 1500 words, but yay for me because I am working on it. Which is more than I thought I'd do. Woke up this morning not feeling too well, so I haven't worked a lot today. I did discover a great way to love my story a little bit more, though: babel fish it! I put part of my fic through the babel fish translator, put it through "English to French", then pasted the French text in and put it through "French to English", and it came out in hilarious, barely coherent English. Made me laugh so hard I almost cried.
Just for reference, it's set after season 5 of Angel, the New Council is set up in London, and at least Xander, Buffy, Dawn (and maybe more of the Scoobies) are living there. Xander runs into Spike in a bar in London. Now, on to the fic:
Original Version:
Not wanting to start a fight in the bar, because he’d seen that and it never ended well, Xander followed Spike out the door, and as soon as they were on the street, grabbed Spike’s shoulder and spun him around. At the same time, Spike threw a punch at his face, and while Xander wasn’t quick enough to block it, he managed to keep a hold on Spike’s shoulder. Once he had recovered from the initial shock of the punch, he grabbed Spike’s other shoulder to keep him from wriggling away – Xander could feel him trying to squirm out of his grasp – and growled, “What the hell are you doing here, Spike?”
“Why should I tell you, Harris? Get the fuck off of me!” Spike kept trying to get away, but for some reason he didn’t seem as strong as he used to be.
“Because I’m the one who’s got the stake in his hand,” Xander replied, taking a stake out of his back pocket and pressing it to Spike’s chest.
Spike’s eyes widened in fear for a brief moment, before he slumped back against the brick wall of the pub, and said, “Alright, fine. Just stop trying to kill me, yeah?”
Xander lowered the stake, but was still ready to fight if Spike tried anything. “Okay. But I wanna know what you’re doing here, or you’re gonna be a pile of dust real soon.”
Spike glared at him, smoothing down his jacket and t-shirt, and said, “I could kill you before you ever got close to dusting me. But can we just… walk, or something? This sworn-enemies routine’s getting old.”
Xander had to admit, it was a little weird. But then, things with Spike were weird most of the time, going back and forth between hating the guy and tolerating him and even sometimes kind of liking him and hey, wasn’t he supposed to be acting threatening right about now? “Yeah, fine. But—“
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve still got the stake and if I try anything you’ll…well, try to dust me,” Spike recited, rolling his eyes. “I know this song, sing me a new one.” He shoved one hand into a pocket, came out with a pack of cigarettes, and started walking down the lamp-lit street.
Xander was quiet for a second, lost without a snappy comeback. He followed after Spike, trying to think of something else threatening-sounding to say and who was he kidding? Of course, Spike could kill him in a heartbeat. Less than that, probably. So he followed along and tried to be casual, or as close to casual as they had ever come. “So, what are you doing here? And please don’t tell me you came here looking for Buffy, because you’re nothing to her anymore.” And no, it wasn’t entirely true. He knew Buffy still thought about Spike, she’d told him, but he liked saying it, just to see Spike’s reaction.
Sure enough, Spike flinched a little at the words before he responded softly, “…Thought about it. Got all the way over here before I realized there really wasn’t much point.” He took a drag of the cigarette, paused, and sighed before saying, “So now I’m here, with nothing better to do than be annoyed by tossers like you.”
Xander was familiar with enough British slang to be offended, and responded with the obligatory “Hey!” All Spike did was grin, and then they lapsed into silence for half a block, but neither of them walked away. Finally, Xander asked, “So, why aren’t you dead? Last time I saw you, you were about to be Kentucky Fried Vampire at the bottom of the Hellmouth…”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just now asking this?”
“Hey, I grew up in Sunnydale. My brain doesn’t always work in logical ways.”
“Does it ever?” Spike retorted, with the ghost of a grin.
The Babel Fished Version (with paragraphs put in as best as I could -- it doesn't have paragraphs when you translate it, sorry):
Not wanting to begin a combat in the bar, because it considering that and it never finished well, transitory followed by Xander out of the door, and as soon as they were on the street, the shoulder of the transient seized and turned him around. At the same time, it transitory a punch with its face threw, and whereas Xander was not rather quickly to block it, it managed to keep a catch on the shoulder of the transient. Once that it had recovered initial shock of the punch, it seized the other shoulder of the transient to keep it agitation far - Xander could feel it to try to twist out of its catch - and grogné, "devil are you making here, transient?"
"why I should say to you, Harris? Obtain to break it ego!" The transient continued to try to leave, but for some reason it did not seem as extremely as it was accustomed to being.
"since I am that which has the pile in his hand," answered Xander, taking with a pile out of his the pocket of back and tightening it with the trunk of the transient.
The eyes of the transient widened in fear during a short moment, before it broke down behind against the brick wall of the publication, and indicated, "well, very well. Did stop right trying to kill me, ouais?"
Xander lowered the pile, but was still ready to fight if it transitory anything tested. "correct. But I want to know what you do here, or you will be a pile of true dust soon."
The transient shone with him, smoothing in bottom of its jacket and tee-shirt, and said, "I could kill you before you ever obtained to me close to powdering. But can we just... walk, or something? This routine of swear-enemies growing old."
Xander had to admit, it was little strange. But then, the things with the transient were strange more of time, going in the two directions between hating the type and tolerant him and sometimes the equal to like it and hé kind, wasn't it supposed to act threatening well approximately now? "ouais, very well. But - "", I ouais ouais know. You always have the pile and if I test anything you... waune, test will époussetterez me, "transient exposed, rolling its eyes. "I know this song, sings me nine." It pushed a hand in a pocket, left with a package cigarettes, and to go down begun lamp-A lit the street.
Xander was quiet for a second, lost without sharp return. It after the transient, trying to think of another thing threaten-resounding for saying and which was it followed badinant? Naturally, it transitory could kill it in a palpitation. Less than that, probably. Thus it followed along and tried to be occasional, or as close to occasional because they had ever come. "thus, that do you make here? And please do not say to me that you came here seeking Buffy, because you are from now on nothing with it." And not, it was not entirely true. It knew Buffy always thought of the transient, it has says him that, but liked to him to say it, to see the reaction of the transient just.
Enough sure, it transitory moved back with the words before it answered gently, "... thought that. With obtained all the manner here before I realized that there was not really much point." It took a dredger of the cigarette, made a pause, and sighed before saying, "so much now I am here, with nothing with better doing than are obstructed by tossers like you."
Xander was with the current of enough slang British to offend, and to be answered with the obligatory one "hé!" All transitory was to it grimace, and then they missed in silence for half of a block, but neither one nor the other of them went far. In conclusion, Xander asked, "thus, why didn't you die? The last time I saw you, were to you about to be vampire fried by Kentucky at the bottom of transitory Hellmouth... "
It raised an eyebrow. "and you of this moment ask this?"
"hé, I grew in Sunnydale. My brain always does not function in the logical ways."
"the fact never?" Transient retorted, with the phantom of a grimace.
Anyway, you should all try it, because it's always funny.
Story-wise, I'm doing okay. There're a couple of plot points I'm a little worried about, detail-y things, but hopefully they'll work themselves out when I get to them.
Okay, have to go pay attention in class now...
Just for reference, it's set after season 5 of Angel, the New Council is set up in London, and at least Xander, Buffy, Dawn (and maybe more of the Scoobies) are living there. Xander runs into Spike in a bar in London. Now, on to the fic:
Original Version:
Not wanting to start a fight in the bar, because he’d seen that and it never ended well, Xander followed Spike out the door, and as soon as they were on the street, grabbed Spike’s shoulder and spun him around. At the same time, Spike threw a punch at his face, and while Xander wasn’t quick enough to block it, he managed to keep a hold on Spike’s shoulder. Once he had recovered from the initial shock of the punch, he grabbed Spike’s other shoulder to keep him from wriggling away – Xander could feel him trying to squirm out of his grasp – and growled, “What the hell are you doing here, Spike?”
“Why should I tell you, Harris? Get the fuck off of me!” Spike kept trying to get away, but for some reason he didn’t seem as strong as he used to be.
“Because I’m the one who’s got the stake in his hand,” Xander replied, taking a stake out of his back pocket and pressing it to Spike’s chest.
Spike’s eyes widened in fear for a brief moment, before he slumped back against the brick wall of the pub, and said, “Alright, fine. Just stop trying to kill me, yeah?”
Xander lowered the stake, but was still ready to fight if Spike tried anything. “Okay. But I wanna know what you’re doing here, or you’re gonna be a pile of dust real soon.”
Spike glared at him, smoothing down his jacket and t-shirt, and said, “I could kill you before you ever got close to dusting me. But can we just… walk, or something? This sworn-enemies routine’s getting old.”
Xander had to admit, it was a little weird. But then, things with Spike were weird most of the time, going back and forth between hating the guy and tolerating him and even sometimes kind of liking him and hey, wasn’t he supposed to be acting threatening right about now? “Yeah, fine. But—“
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve still got the stake and if I try anything you’ll…well, try to dust me,” Spike recited, rolling his eyes. “I know this song, sing me a new one.” He shoved one hand into a pocket, came out with a pack of cigarettes, and started walking down the lamp-lit street.
Xander was quiet for a second, lost without a snappy comeback. He followed after Spike, trying to think of something else threatening-sounding to say and who was he kidding? Of course, Spike could kill him in a heartbeat. Less than that, probably. So he followed along and tried to be casual, or as close to casual as they had ever come. “So, what are you doing here? And please don’t tell me you came here looking for Buffy, because you’re nothing to her anymore.” And no, it wasn’t entirely true. He knew Buffy still thought about Spike, she’d told him, but he liked saying it, just to see Spike’s reaction.
Sure enough, Spike flinched a little at the words before he responded softly, “…Thought about it. Got all the way over here before I realized there really wasn’t much point.” He took a drag of the cigarette, paused, and sighed before saying, “So now I’m here, with nothing better to do than be annoyed by tossers like you.”
Xander was familiar with enough British slang to be offended, and responded with the obligatory “Hey!” All Spike did was grin, and then they lapsed into silence for half a block, but neither of them walked away. Finally, Xander asked, “So, why aren’t you dead? Last time I saw you, you were about to be Kentucky Fried Vampire at the bottom of the Hellmouth…”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just now asking this?”
“Hey, I grew up in Sunnydale. My brain doesn’t always work in logical ways.”
“Does it ever?” Spike retorted, with the ghost of a grin.
The Babel Fished Version (with paragraphs put in as best as I could -- it doesn't have paragraphs when you translate it, sorry):
Not wanting to begin a combat in the bar, because it considering that and it never finished well, transitory followed by Xander out of the door, and as soon as they were on the street, the shoulder of the transient seized and turned him around. At the same time, it transitory a punch with its face threw, and whereas Xander was not rather quickly to block it, it managed to keep a catch on the shoulder of the transient. Once that it had recovered initial shock of the punch, it seized the other shoulder of the transient to keep it agitation far - Xander could feel it to try to twist out of its catch - and grogné, "devil are you making here, transient?"
"why I should say to you, Harris? Obtain to break it ego!" The transient continued to try to leave, but for some reason it did not seem as extremely as it was accustomed to being.
"since I am that which has the pile in his hand," answered Xander, taking with a pile out of his the pocket of back and tightening it with the trunk of the transient.
The eyes of the transient widened in fear during a short moment, before it broke down behind against the brick wall of the publication, and indicated, "well, very well. Did stop right trying to kill me, ouais?"
Xander lowered the pile, but was still ready to fight if it transitory anything tested. "correct. But I want to know what you do here, or you will be a pile of true dust soon."
The transient shone with him, smoothing in bottom of its jacket and tee-shirt, and said, "I could kill you before you ever obtained to me close to powdering. But can we just... walk, or something? This routine of swear-enemies growing old."
Xander had to admit, it was little strange. But then, the things with the transient were strange more of time, going in the two directions between hating the type and tolerant him and sometimes the equal to like it and hé kind, wasn't it supposed to act threatening well approximately now? "ouais, very well. But - "", I ouais ouais know. You always have the pile and if I test anything you... waune, test will époussetterez me, "transient exposed, rolling its eyes. "I know this song, sings me nine." It pushed a hand in a pocket, left with a package cigarettes, and to go down begun lamp-A lit the street.
Xander was quiet for a second, lost without sharp return. It after the transient, trying to think of another thing threaten-resounding for saying and which was it followed badinant? Naturally, it transitory could kill it in a palpitation. Less than that, probably. Thus it followed along and tried to be occasional, or as close to occasional because they had ever come. "thus, that do you make here? And please do not say to me that you came here seeking Buffy, because you are from now on nothing with it." And not, it was not entirely true. It knew Buffy always thought of the transient, it has says him that, but liked to him to say it, to see the reaction of the transient just.
Enough sure, it transitory moved back with the words before it answered gently, "... thought that. With obtained all the manner here before I realized that there was not really much point." It took a dredger of the cigarette, made a pause, and sighed before saying, "so much now I am here, with nothing with better doing than are obstructed by tossers like you."
Xander was with the current of enough slang British to offend, and to be answered with the obligatory one "hé!" All transitory was to it grimace, and then they missed in silence for half of a block, but neither one nor the other of them went far. In conclusion, Xander asked, "thus, why didn't you die? The last time I saw you, were to you about to be vampire fried by Kentucky at the bottom of transitory Hellmouth... "
It raised an eyebrow. "and you of this moment ask this?"
"hé, I grew in Sunnydale. My brain always does not function in the logical ways."
"the fact never?" Transient retorted, with the phantom of a grimace.
Anyway, you should all try it, because it's always funny.
Story-wise, I'm doing okay. There're a couple of plot points I'm a little worried about, detail-y things, but hopefully they'll work themselves out when I get to them.
Okay, have to go pay attention in class now...
