Adjectives on the typewriter.
I'm probably going to regret this, but it might be a good way to distract myself from The Novel.
The first ten (10) people who comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal (unless they really would rather not).You guys know what I like and what ( Read more... )
The first ten (10) people who comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal (unless they really would rather not).You guys know what I like and what ( Read more... )
‘Course, it’s his own gorram fault, really. It was that last shot of back door whisky what done it, that last little bit that set him runnin’ his drunk ass mouth in the clear hearin’ of his entire drunk ass crew, some of whom were, evidently, not near as plastered as they ought’ve been, given the circumstances and the obscene lateness of the hour. And then Jayne, damn his sorry self to the blackest corner of the ‘verse, had to start goin’ on about the best ruttin’ sex he ever ruttin’ had.
It was that last shot, else Mal woulda had the good sense to keep his gorram mouth shut.
Now he’s not near as drunk as he’d like to be, and mouth is all itchy and dry from the medical gauze stuffed in it and his fingers are startin’ to go numb from the restraints holdin’ him down on the exam chair.
And, to put the ruttin’ cherry on all this, out of the corner of his eye, he can just see Simon standin’ there, grinnin’ like Mal was his gorram birthday cake.
Well, it sure coulda turned out worse.
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