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a glance over my long weekend
YESTERDAY
Fahye: It doesn't matter that the wedding ran late and I spent the evening watching TV. I have all of tomorrow! And half of Monday! Yeah, I'll get all my work done.
TODAY
Fahye: Mum? Yeah, I can't clean like I said I would, I need to work. I'll clean tomorrow afternoon! :D!
Fahye: *proceeds to spend nine. straight. hours. RPing*
Fahye: That was the best fun I've had in mon- oh. Oh, fuck.
TOMORROW
*will suck mightily*
~
So the fic is being shunted aside to make room for my panic re: biology reports and essays, but I'll give you all of my favourite sentences from it so far.*RANDOM*
"I'm sure transgenerational nepotism is hardly the worst sin you've committed."
New Boston's always looked a little thrown-together, but the buildings claw at the sky and the sun throws rectangles of mocking Morse code flashing across the city and really, Crowley thinks with irony, it's just like home.
He wonders how many people have tried to lean against it, been told to lean against it, putting a casual hand through those blinds the colour of dead blood and feeling body weight shift past the vital fulcrum, tipping outwards, objects in space.
The young man currently being favoured with Lucifer's attention appears to be alternating between looking like he's been hit with tranquillizers and looking like he's seriously questioning his sexuality.
The demon knows that his eyes are panic-wide behind his glasses and he knows that Lucifer knows and blessed heaven the only thing he can think is that when he tells the angel about this, later, there's going to be a tyre iron involved in the story somewhere.
Crowley blinks carefully and starts counting stars, yi, er, san, si, on the first day was created the earth and the cold champagne heavens, poured out sparkling from the maw of Time.
Crowley digests this, heart sinking. "What happened to your body?" <--- *wins at out of context WTF*
The demon chokes and fumbles for the pilot's chair, but Wash has already given a surprised squawk and done the same thing, so they bump hips and Crowley ends up attempting to cling to the wall of the bridge, fumbling after his half-askew sunglasses.
~
Also, GIP. See current music and also: the crazy brains of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
schiarire and dredpiratejenny.
Fahye: It doesn't matter that the wedding ran late and I spent the evening watching TV. I have all of tomorrow! And half of Monday! Yeah, I'll get all my work done.
TODAY
Fahye: Mum? Yeah, I can't clean like I said I would, I need to work. I'll clean tomorrow afternoon! :D!
Fahye: *proceeds to spend nine. straight. hours. RPing*
Fahye: That was the best fun I've had in mon- oh. Oh, fuck.
TOMORROW
*will suck mightily*
~
So the fic is being shunted aside to make room for my panic re: biology reports and essays, but I'll give you all of my favourite sentences from it so far.
"I'm sure transgenerational nepotism is hardly the worst sin you've committed."
New Boston's always looked a little thrown-together, but the buildings claw at the sky and the sun throws rectangles of mocking Morse code flashing across the city and really, Crowley thinks with irony, it's just like home.
He wonders how many people have tried to lean against it, been told to lean against it, putting a casual hand through those blinds the colour of dead blood and feeling body weight shift past the vital fulcrum, tipping outwards, objects in space.
The young man currently being favoured with Lucifer's attention appears to be alternating between looking like he's been hit with tranquillizers and looking like he's seriously questioning his sexuality.
The demon knows that his eyes are panic-wide behind his glasses and he knows that Lucifer knows and blessed heaven the only thing he can think is that when he tells the angel about this, later, there's going to be a tyre iron involved in the story somewhere.
Crowley blinks carefully and starts counting stars, yi, er, san, si, on the first day was created the earth and the cold champagne heavens, poured out sparkling from the maw of Time.
Crowley digests this, heart sinking. "What happened to your body?" <--- *wins at out of context WTF*
The demon chokes and fumbles for the pilot's chair, but Wash has already given a surprised squawk and done the same thing, so they bump hips and Crowley ends up attempting to cling to the wall of the bridge, fumbling after his half-askew sunglasses.
~
Also, GIP. See current music and also: the crazy brains of
schiarire and dredpiratejenny.
no subject
*covers the delicate eyes of any kiddies herelurking*