Entry tags:
why am I doing this why why why
OH I KNOW: last weekend of holidays before classes return, swiftly followed by the exams of doom! Last chance at creativity before the demons of academic pressure descend and stare me down with their beady, beady eyes, leaving me whimpering in a heap and clutching my ink-depleted highlighters to my chest!
DRABBLE PROMPTS. GO.
Ideas for ridiculous crossovers and AUs are encouraged, as are requests of the 'set X years before/after story Y' variety.
DRABBLE PROMPTS. GO.
Ideas for ridiculous crossovers and AUs are encouraged, as are requests of the 'set X years before/after story Y' variety.
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~
The gaze currently being directed at Rory from underneath Amelia Pond's fringe was not, he was fairly sure, actually a glare. It did, however, give him the same squirmy feeling he'd had when he tried out for the class play.
"Well?" she prompted.
Rory curled his feet around the legs of the chair for comfort; his own legs weren't quite long enough for them to reach the ground. He took a bite of the toast, which was underdone and had been spread with rather too much honey. This was a strange game. Amelia was a strange girl. But Rory figured hey, he could be strange himself sometimes, and Amelia at least would yell back at the kids who liked to pick on strange people. She was comforting to be around. Well. Mostly.
"Mmm?" he tried. "Good?"
This one was definitely a glare, accompanied by -- oh God, oh God -- reddened cheeks and a threat of tears.
"No!" she burst out. "You're not supposed to like it! You have to wait for the custard!"
The next plate was shoved in front of him. Rory took a forkful of cold kedgeree, chewed for a couple of seconds, and then spat it out into his own hand.
"Yuck," he said with great sincerity.
Amelia Pond gave him a narrow look, then leaned forward, propped her chin in her hands, and smiled.
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