Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.Original:
Belle loved jigsaws — she probably would have been hella amused at Alex practically becoming
a walking jigsaw. That thought, out of nowhere and full formed, felt like a stab to the gut, and Alex hovered halfway between the torture device and her sister, completely unsure of which way to go.
Thankfully, Jess was kind of an awesome big sister, and had her back. Sort of. "Go shower, you reek
," Jess declared, wrinkling her nose, curving her freckles into an alien constellation.
"Nice to see you too," Alex said, but she headed nimbly for the ensuite shower room, grabbing a towel from the heated rack and a change of clothes before slamming the door behind her.Fanfic:
"Everyone's a comedian."
"Yeah, well, you weren't around. I had to learn to fill the silences somehow."
Stiles lets out a huff. "Are you saying Boyd's natural talkativeness wasn't enough to compensate?"
"Boyd," Erica says, "has said exactly six words to me since he got here this morning."
"And they were?"
"Off to find the pool, babe," Erica says, mimicking Boyd's low drawl.
I've officially read everything on my kobo now (not that there was too much on there), so please throw any fic recs my way. \o/
I started to try and fill it up myself, and in cruising some of my favourite tags, discovered this lovely gem:
Not gonna lie, I feel super accomplished. I am the Queen of Dramatic Irony. How often does one person with two different identities get the top two results in a search for identity porn? NOT OFTEN ENOUGH, FLIST. NOT OFTEN ENOUGH.
Speaking of fic, I posted my newest big bang yesterday, so for the Teen Wolf/Sterek fans on my flist, here's the info. It's a bit long, longer than it was supposed to be, so maybe don't start it late at night if you do wanna read it. :DTitle:
The Nightmare of my ChoiceAuthor: MirrorkillArtist: puckboumType:
Slash. Thriller.Word Count:
M for violence, not sexytimes! Ghosts, canon-level violence, minor surgery reference, allusions to euthanasia and non-con (but not explicitly in-text), minor character death.Fic Summary:
“... it was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.”
Rogue werewolves and incubi and ghosts, oh my!: Life in Beacon Hills continues to be the epitome of weird.
Especially for emissary-in-training Stiles, who's being literally haunted by a parade of Beacon Hills' deceased, who are trying to compel him to embrace the darkness in his heart. His only source of comfort is when he's writing to an emotionally constipated Beta werewolf. When Derek Hale is your anchor to sanity? Yeah, weird might be an underestimation.
Stiles is well suited to the path of an emissary; in fact, something important about him has already been overlooked. Something that could have deadly consequences both for him, and for everyone else...Link to fic master post: AO3Link to art master post: LJ
* (beware spoilers for the fic inside)
Totes check out the art - I had to embed the still versions in the main fic, for people who can't handle gifs, but it's ANIMATED. ♥ Puckboum is awesomepants.
I'm currently still drowning in fic deadlines. Once Sterek BB and Leverage RBB have passed, I might be able to breathe a little, but until then... Best not to try and persuade me to add anything else to my deadline list. I MIGHT CRY AT YOU. And considering I have a cold, that wouldn't be pretty. ♥