memememememememememememememememe
So I slept for about 15 hours last night, given the previous two nights, I'd only slept for two hours each. Ahh, the joy of finals. BUT, IN SIX DAYS, I GRADUATE. Then, party-hopping and then omgjulyihavetowork. Girl Scout camp, what not.
And millions of fics.
Post a sentence (or two) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
K. :D
--
To his left, the man began to mumble things like “just my fucking luck” and “Jesus motherfucker” and “I’m too detective for this shit” (which didn’t make any sense to Bones at all).
--
I could stop this, Chris thinks in an alarmingly sober moment. “I should stop this,” he says aloud, but it’s not enough to get him to open his eyes or to stop telling himself it’s okay to be used if it doesn’t hurt all of the time, only it does and Chris is a piss-poor liar. He sighs, and wonders if it’d be easier to be a Disney Princess instead of always playing the fall back hero.
He wakes up at five-colon-two-six with the damp purple L.A. sunrise staining Zach’s bamboo cabinets lilac, Noah snoring in his ear and Zach snoring into a half-empty container of hummus, and realizes that Belle is right: there must be more than this provincial life.
--
Jim’s lucky he’s charming (but it’s more like, he’s lucky Bones is from a small town where everyone knows the sound of his grandmother’s truck), since he’s got no idea how to get back to Bones’ house from the middle of town. Milton, the bartender that had watched he and Bones leave with a twinkle in his eye, had drawn a map on a napkin when Jim ducked back inside the bar with red ears.
--
The twins barge right in like they own the damn place (“We do, basically,” Zack says in passing.), leaving Dean to look both ways down the hall and smile awkwardly at the grumpy old woman three doors over. She changes the sign on the doorknob to ‘Do Not Disturb.’ Too late for that, Dean grimaces, and shuts his own door.
--
"..And when you squeeze me, ketchup shoots out of my ass."
--
“You have never wrestled a Goron, have you,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes. “They are big and lumpy and harder than boulders and big and did I mention big?” Link looks more frazzled the more he talks, finger pointing accusingly at the air in front of him.
“No, I haven’t, yes, they are, and yes, you did,” Telma replies, setting down a bottle of milk in front of him with a soft clunk. “Now, tell me, why in goddess’s name would you do such a thing?”
Link stares at her. “Because it’s unbrotherly to refuse,” he says, deadpanned.
--
“I see.” Teyla leaned further over John’s shoulder. “Why are you writing about food with the same names as us?”
“Heightmeyer told me to ‘unleash my creativity.’”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Put nicely, yes. Basically, everyone in Atlantis put in a complaint about him ‘unleashing’ all over the hallways. So, she assigned him to write a story instead. About a cranberry.”
“Actually, the cranberry was my choice,” said John.
“Fantastic.”
--
And millions of fics.
Post a sentence (or two) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
K. :D
--
To his left, the man began to mumble things like “just my fucking luck” and “Jesus motherfucker” and “I’m too detective for this shit” (which didn’t make any sense to Bones at all).
--
I could stop this, Chris thinks in an alarmingly sober moment. “I should stop this,” he says aloud, but it’s not enough to get him to open his eyes or to stop telling himself it’s okay to be used if it doesn’t hurt all of the time, only it does and Chris is a piss-poor liar. He sighs, and wonders if it’d be easier to be a Disney Princess instead of always playing the fall back hero.
He wakes up at five-colon-two-six with the damp purple L.A. sunrise staining Zach’s bamboo cabinets lilac, Noah snoring in his ear and Zach snoring into a half-empty container of hummus, and realizes that Belle is right: there must be more than this provincial life.
--
Jim’s lucky he’s charming (but it’s more like, he’s lucky Bones is from a small town where everyone knows the sound of his grandmother’s truck), since he’s got no idea how to get back to Bones’ house from the middle of town. Milton, the bartender that had watched he and Bones leave with a twinkle in his eye, had drawn a map on a napkin when Jim ducked back inside the bar with red ears.
--
The twins barge right in like they own the damn place (“We do, basically,” Zack says in passing.), leaving Dean to look both ways down the hall and smile awkwardly at the grumpy old woman three doors over. She changes the sign on the doorknob to ‘Do Not Disturb.’ Too late for that, Dean grimaces, and shuts his own door.
--
"..And when you squeeze me, ketchup shoots out of my ass."
--
“You have never wrestled a Goron, have you,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes. “They are big and lumpy and harder than boulders and big and did I mention big?” Link looks more frazzled the more he talks, finger pointing accusingly at the air in front of him.
“No, I haven’t, yes, they are, and yes, you did,” Telma replies, setting down a bottle of milk in front of him with a soft clunk. “Now, tell me, why in goddess’s name would you do such a thing?”
Link stares at her. “Because it’s unbrotherly to refuse,” he says, deadpanned.
--
“I see.” Teyla leaned further over John’s shoulder. “Why are you writing about food with the same names as us?”
“Heightmeyer told me to ‘unleash my creativity.’”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Put nicely, yes. Basically, everyone in Atlantis put in a complaint about him ‘unleashing’ all over the hallways. So, she assigned him to write a story instead. About a cranberry.”
“Actually, the cranberry was my choice,” said John.
“Fantastic.”
--