Desperate times and all that.

[hackthis_archive]

I have no words to describe my boredom right now. I have no words to describe anything. I'm at the stalemate, and I'm tempted to do that Give me a prompt and I'll write you a two-line story for it.

Yeah, alright, hit me. First fifteen in the door get the prize.* Anything I've already written before is game, no Hermione. Look, I'll even show you how it goes. Example: Request: SGA, Sheppard/McKay (which, um, you could request too even though I don't watch the show)


"So, McKay, what's all this UST business?" Sheppard did that thing he did with his mouth when he was trying to play smart. Rodney wasn’t fooled. "Is it a new strand of the ATA gene?"

"It stands for Unresolved Sexual Tension, Major."

"Lieutenant Colonel."

"Please," Rodney scoffed. "With all this tension I could call you Susan, and you wouldn't care."

"What tension?"

"The sexual tension between us."

"What sexual tension between us?"

"See, that's why it's unresolved! Because you can't admit it's there!"*


*If you're late, you might be able to bribe me with music. I'm partial to Eric B and Rakim, Tom Jones, New Edition, Doug E Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew.

***Okay, that was about ten lines too long, but serialkarma is feeling poorly, so I'm being nice.


ETA: OKAY, offer closed!

Comments

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

*CRIES*

I love you so much right now, I can not even tell you.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Hey, I'm just sorry that it's so crazy full of typos. Normally I have people who take care of those things, this is what happens when I'm just writing on the fly. I can delete and repost it for you if you like, so you know, I don't like a total idiot.

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Heh. I've commited it to memory, typos and all. But if it would make your innter editor feel better, you can do that.

Now with 30% fewer typos (This is getting to be a bad habit)

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

The thing that Amber hated the most about Texas was the heat. It was always fucking hot. Stupidly fucking hot. Whomever had decided to create Texas so close to the equator needed to be shot. Sighing with the injustice of it all, she crouched down to pick up a stack of modernist books that some cheap ass student had left all over the floor of the art section. Amber hated students almost as much as she hated the heat, but it was a close call.

"Um, excuse me?" a male voice interrupted her mental vision of a thousand cheap-ass customers being sauteed by the Texas heat.

Amber caught the entirely too-bright-and-expensive white sneakers in her periphery and sighed. Maybe if she didn't look the person would just disappear; the same thing happened to her paycheck all the time. "Excuse me?" the voice repeated again.

Amber growled low in her throat, stacking the last book in her arms and slowly getting to her feet. They didn't pay her enough for this shit. "Can I help you?" she asked, only marginally masking the belligerence in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, to bother you, but I was looking for some books about hockey, because I was thinking about taking a hobby, and um --" The man's voice dropped off as Amber met his eyes, and she dropped the books she'd just picked up.

"Hi, I'm Tom," the young man said sheepishly. "Um, did you want some help with your books?"

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

I still love it. I want to marry it and have it's edited little babies.

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

I am totally putting this in my user info. It's all anyone will ever need to know about me in one little awesome package.