mizzy: (tw: allison blue)
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.


"You know that bit in Little Women when Amy hurls Jo's manuscript into the fire in a fit of anger and jealousy?"
"I'm wrapping my mind around the idea that you've read Little Women," Albie says. "Give me a moment before you continue."
Dax rolls his eyes. "There's a book?" He winks at her when she shoots him a surprised look. "Relax, I'm not that much of a philistine."
Albie shoulder bumps him and regrets it, because apparently toting kegs up from the basement has made Dax into the solid kind of person that makes bumping into them painful. A fact he knows by the too-amused smirk her levels down at her.


"Nonsense," Talia says. "We have a spare room. Next to Euphy's room, though, so be aware that she—"

"—snores like a herd of cats?" Derek finishes, deliberately using his dad's favorite phrase to describe his sister-in-law's snoring. "Yeah, I didn't miss that after—" He swallows back after she dies. "When I moved out," Derek finishes, badly.

"Oh, god, at least one of my children's gonna move out," Talia says. "That's good news. Laura's talking like she's never gonna leave."

Derek thinks about New York and feels sick.
mizzy: (Default)
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.


"The notes," Dallan says, glimpsing down at the folder on her phone where she's taken pictures of them all. "Be mine. You're mine."

Price keeps folding up his clothes, studiously not looking in her direction.

"Clizyati already knows where you are, doesn't he?"

Price's jaw tenses visibly. "Seems like," he allows. Considering his usual loquacious word vomit, Price being quiet is blowing her mind more than the fact that the evil lord of the mirrorworld may not be trapped by the Yellow Emperor's spell anymore.

And if Clizyati is through, how long before the armies of the mirrorworld break through too?


"I could manage to eat it all, I'm pretty sure," Cora says, eyeballing the spread of food determinedly.

"You'd go pop," Aunt Kharis says, grabbing Cora around the middle and pressing a lipstick-smeared kiss against Cora's cheek. Cora immediately shrieks and pulls away, rubbing furiously at her cheek. She's never been as tactile as the rest of the wolves.

"Be sure to thank Miguel," Eric calls out, still buzzing around the kitchen like a mini tornado, "he's very handy with a knife."

Talia, leading up the rear of the group coming out of the basement, looks proudly across at Derek. "Runs in the family," she says.


Two fic links for Sterek fans on my flist:

I wrote Not If You Were the Last Fake Boyfriend on Earth (8k) - where Derek needs a boyfriend for reasons and decides to let the pack help

and the amazing [livejournal.com profile] seraphina_snape wrote Revenge Fake Dating Is Totally A Thing (30k) for me - and it's amazing, Stiles ends up fake dating Derek to cover up lying to his dad, and things escalate and it's super cute. ♥
mizzy: (Default)
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.


The elf and the boo stare at Ely like he's the answer to life, the universe and everything.

That sort of omnipotent power would certainly make Ely's job much easier. He rubs the bridge of his nose and resents his past-self for turning down the cushion Miranda offered him before the meeting began. The wooden seat that had seemed so delightful on first sight is now digging uncomfortably into Ely's thighs. My kingdom for a moment's reprieve, he thinks sadly, and slaps the negotiation table with both palms.

"You're both speaking utter rubbish," Ely says.


"I'm kinda picturing that right now," Stiles says, tilting his head. "Hi, sir, ma'am, we're here from your local animal clinic to spray liquid in your face."

"I don't think that would entirely help Deaton get more business."

"Couldn't hurt — it's totally Deaton's milkshake that brings all the bored forty-something housewives to your boss's clinic."

"My boss is hot," Scott deadpans. "Plus it's also the only animal clinic in town and the next nearest one is half an hour's drive the other side of Beacon City."

"That reason too," Stiles allows.
mizzy: (tw: allison blue)
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.


"Post for you," Albie calls, sing-song, hovering at the threshold of the door. As usual she's treated to the sight of her father's broad shoulders, hunched over the desk, tense with stress. His gaze seems to be fixated on the computer monitor, but Albie's eyesight is eternally poor, and she can only make out the vague outlines of what looks like a map. She waits a few beats before raising her voice, "Dad."
Joshua Yates had never been particularly fast at anything, but the speed he shuts down the window he's looking at is so fast that Albie would suspect he was watching porn if a) she hadn't caught the glimpse of the countour lines of a map, and no map Albie's seen has been NSFW material and b) if she ever liked to think of sex and her parents in the same sentence, which no, she did not. He doesn't even bother properly turning to face her, even though his chair is one of those wheeled, rotatable office variety chairs.


"You could have just said he was your boyfriend," Malia says. "I'm not that desperate."
Stiles isn't entirely to blame for the way the Jeep swerves a little bit. Lydia turns a snicker into a cough that she muffles into her hand.
"There's lots of other cute boys in Beacon Hills," Malia carries on. "Besides," she adds, eyeing Kira sideways, "I might be into girls now."

September 2015

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