i meme you up

[hesselives]

[ I WOULD LIKE TO PREFACE THIS POST WITH AN ACTUALFAX QUOTE FROM ALEX NAKEDCHEST: "I'm an arse man." and something about boobs, too, but note how hastily it was added in. don't hide your feelings, Alex. unleash them. on all the other pretty boys. ]

i honestly don't remember where i stole this from but it went something like this:

> write down the first lines of your last ten fics
> try to find a pattern

hokay, let's see.

• They decide on random selection for the responsibility of scouting.
• Illness, cocooned in white.
• He stands in front of an unnamed building, craning his neck to feel the full effect of waxed glass and fifty stories.
• For as long as she can remember, she has always hated France.
• Dom wonders if he isn’t some sort of challenge to Eames.
• The move is imminent.
• No sound but for the ticking of a wall clock.
• Nash’s skeletal frame is found in an alleyway.
• “You know I can hurt you. You know that.”
• “Why do they do that?”

conclusion: i am bad at pattern recognition. i guess it's like plaid, in that i don't get it. NO ENTIENDO, SELF. NO ENTIENDO, PLAID.



WIPs

• "Don't," he cuts him off with a low snarl, moving his mouth towards the long curve of Sam's neck before sinking his teeth in.

• "Not everything." And it could be a trick of the light but a slight flush spreads over the ridges of John's cheekbones. Sam resolutely ignores it, along with the sudden ache of unease in his gut.

• For someone who is actively living out a delusion, her answers are infuriatingly logical.
  
  The clock doesn’t keep time. “It’s broken.”
  There is not a single denizen apart from them. “They all moved.”
  Nothing changes. “It will.”
  
  He mentally sifts through his thoughts, like cards on a rolodex.
  Even dreams are founded on reason, he says to himself.

• “Tell me, what makes you want to go back?”
  
  “I have fami-” A pause. “I have a life there. I have things to do.”
  
  “Would you be happier there?” He looks for accusation in her tone, but there is none. Instead, a strange and sober sincerity.
  
  “Of course I- But that isn’t the point.”
  
  She leans her elbows on the table.
  
  “Isn’t it?”

• “What happens if I leave?”
  
  She lifts a cup of coffee and gazes into it. A stoic expression.
  
  “That’s your decision.”
  
  “What will happen to you?”
  
  “I’ll wait here.” Tiredness in her eyes. “Until I can’t.”
  
  “And how long will that be?”
  
  “I don’t know.” A bitter laugh. “People keep leaving me.”

• Arthur wakes up to a call, a voice that crackles over the distance. It’s asking if he is Arthur. Yes, he is. It’s asking if he knows a man named Eames. Yes, he does. Why, what is this regarding. Last night, it’s telling him, Eames hung himself.
  
  He clicks his phone shut.

• Yusuf raises a hand. “Can we talk about race representation?”
  
  His query is met with a resounding “no.”
  
  Then the team flies to Poland for a job.
  
  “I am filled with regret,” Saito says, after it fails spectacularly, the subject unable to rekindle his love for pinwheels. “I’d like to die alone now.”

also, i'm cashblocking authors yet again. so there's that.