y'all need this song. right. now.
So, my hair is now a slightly darker and quite pleasant shade of reddish-brown. I started (finally finally finally) reading The Gunslinger in the half hour the dye was in.
Studying progresses at a disinterested crawl.
Ho hum.
You want to leave me drabbles to read when I give up on my Biological Bases of Behaviour notes.
These are not the droids you're looking for.
Etc.
Studying progresses at a disinterested crawl.
Ho hum.
You want to leave me drabbles to read when I give up on my Biological Bases of Behaviour notes.
These are not the droids you're looking for.
Etc.

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*waggles fingers*
I have faith in you, my Padawan.
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Wilson was snoring. He had his face smashed up against the window and his hair was straggling up the smoky glass, but that was Wilson for you. He wasn’t about to lose any sleep over anything as silly as a lost gold mine, oh no. That was Addie’s job.
In fact, have two!
SOPHY: No smoke rings. I always wanted to do that. Maybe that can be my New Year’s Resolution, whaddya think?
MAX: I think your New Year’s Resolution should be to give up smoking. It sets a terrible example.
SOPHY: Hey!
MAX: I really think you should stop.
SOPHY: Well, I really think you should get that stick outta your ass. I’m talking, like . . . unilateral withdrawal.
MAX: No, Sophy, you’re talking like a Dumpster.
SOPHY: Mother always said I talked like a prodigy.
MAX: Mother is dead.
Bed!
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***
This is it, he thinks. Fuck, this is it, I'm lost.
Hot blood, night air, running over his hand and steaming. Vapor just visible in acid neon light. This is your life. Take your life in your over your hands. He sways and he breathes, he sways in the breeze, he lets himself fall back against the wall, he lets himself fall. Sliding down slowly because it hurts - what does it matter? Be over soon - it hurts and all he can think is green eyes the kid's face...
A metallic clatter. Someone's dropped a knife.
Maybe they didn't mean it.
Maybe it was meaningless.
Something touches his cheek and he looks up into a dark face, looks up into eyes that shouldn't be that colour and this wasn't quite what he was expecting, wasn't what he thought he deserved but you don't get to choose that, do you?
Neon light fractures on wings that aren't there.
He laughs at the devil 'cos he's too tired to dance. Too tired, too beaten, hot blood coming slower and staining his hand.
And the devil laughs back.
Ice thin knife sharp freezing burning scarring pain. There is no more. No more blood. No more darkness at the edges of his vision. No more of the kid that stabbed him, just a strange shadow on cracked concrete. No more pain.
A jagged scar on his stomach, impossibly healed.
And red eyes. And a smile. And he doesn't even know what he's sold for this.
This is it, he thinks. Fuck, this is it, I'm lost.
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Another hard day at work, another night, another...no. Same bar. Same bar as the second time you saw him, smoking and flirting while saying bloody nothing. Just the way he stood, and you weren't the only one noticing.
You were the one to start talking, though, the one he paused and raised his eyebrow at. The one for who he grinned that grin that went straight past the brain to somewhere far lower and made your mouth dry and knees weak and -
He's just a kid. A kid with bright-yet-dark eyes and a 'fuck-me' grin. He's just a kid, uni-student looking for a kick. And this just a one-night-stand. Yeah, another one. Another one-night-stand with the kid with green eyes and a grin and...
You just keep on telling yourself that, André Webber, and he'll keep on grinning and saying, You're a terrible liar, babe.
And you know what's worse?
You know Skazz is right.
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........
You don't write Skazz/André, and I will KILL you, my Nny.
That was...god.
*whimpers*
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Fuck.
I love you. You know this, yes? Right. Good.
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...please sir, I want some more!
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Maybe someday . . .
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Too much to do today.
AND NO ONE TO BABBLE AT NOW THAT SHIVS HAS GONE TO BED. TRAUMA.
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In the meantime, I shall take Shivs' advice and fill up a word doc for her.
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You're welcome!