"if everything'd stop I'd listen for your heart to lead me right to you."
Work in progress meme time! (stolen from caruso
For the first time in ages I have word documents open with multiple ideas to be written.
David Cook/David Archuleta (for the hc_bingo
David was in the middle of the View ladies, best thousand-watt smile he could muster and all his focus on Barbra Walters. It was kind of his own worst nightmare but a necessary evil he was all too familiar with. Somehow he couldn’t quite get the image of where Archie had been right by his side during a previous trip to the ABC studio and it left the entire experience with a weird taste in his mouth.
“So, David,” Joy Behar broke into his thoughts. “When was the last time you talked to the other David?”
He resisted a frown and wondered if she was psychic, incredibly perceptive or blindly lucky. It’d been ages since that was the stock question in interviews with him.
“A while,” he responded. He swallowed a few choice comments about his personal life, unsure why he was annoyed at such an innocuous question. He forced a casual grin. “The boy’s harder to get a hold of then the Pope but I’ll pin him down sooner or later.”
Joy’s eyebrow arched and David shifted in his seat.
“That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”
Conor Jackson *sob*/John Hester *sob* (for the hc_bingo
“Stop that,” John batted at his hands. “You’re worse then a five year-old, man. Don’t think I won’t grab duct tape.”
Conor scratched his shoulder one last time, more for pride than any actual itch. “Kinky.”
“Scratch that, not five fifteen.”
Conor huffed, miserably aware that he was acting like a kid. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. A small shift and the friction felt amazing, score one for cheap hotel bedding. (Who knew he would ever think that?) He repeated the motion and sighed.
“Do I even want to know?”
Despite himself, he actually felt a flush creep up on his cheeks. “Now who’s fifteen?”
“I thought I told you to stop scratching.”
“I thought I told you I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
I also.. um. Maybe signed up for schmoop_bingo because I have an inflated sense of my writing ability. I blame writingpathways (and by blame, I mean adore completely. She's awesome!) It'll be nice to have something to counter the angst of hurt/comfort. Here is my card! I kind of love it. Looking at the stars! LOVE SONG! HOLDING HANDS. ♥ ♥ ♥
For the first time in ages I have word documents open with multiple ideas to be written.
David Cook/David Archuleta (for the hc_bingo
David was in the middle of the View ladies, best thousand-watt smile he could muster and all his focus on Barbra Walters. It was kind of his own worst nightmare but a necessary evil he was all too familiar with. Somehow he couldn’t quite get the image of where Archie had been right by his side during a previous trip to the ABC studio and it left the entire experience with a weird taste in his mouth.
“So, David,” Joy Behar broke into his thoughts. “When was the last time you talked to the other David?”
He resisted a frown and wondered if she was psychic, incredibly perceptive or blindly lucky. It’d been ages since that was the stock question in interviews with him.
“A while,” he responded. He swallowed a few choice comments about his personal life, unsure why he was annoyed at such an innocuous question. He forced a casual grin. “The boy’s harder to get a hold of then the Pope but I’ll pin him down sooner or later.”
Joy’s eyebrow arched and David shifted in his seat.
“That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”
Conor Jackson *sob*/John Hester *sob* (for the hc_bingo
“Stop that,” John batted at his hands. “You’re worse then a five year-old, man. Don’t think I won’t grab duct tape.”
Conor scratched his shoulder one last time, more for pride than any actual itch. “Kinky.”
“Scratch that, not five fifteen.”
Conor huffed, miserably aware that he was acting like a kid. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. A small shift and the friction felt amazing, score one for cheap hotel bedding. (Who knew he would ever think that?) He repeated the motion and sighed.
“Do I even want to know?”
Despite himself, he actually felt a flush creep up on his cheeks. “Now who’s fifteen?”
“I thought I told you to stop scratching.”
“I thought I told you I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
I also.. um. Maybe signed up for schmoop_bingo because I have an inflated sense of my writing ability. I blame writingpathways (and by blame, I mean adore completely. She's awesome!) It'll be nice to have something to counter the angst of hurt/comfort. Here is my card! I kind of love it. Looking at the stars! LOVE SONG! HOLDING HANDS. ♥ ♥ ♥