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Tue, Mar. 20th, 2007
Holy fuck.
So there I was, sketching again, lalala. And then I look up through my windowaugh sunlight, it burrrns, ir buuuurrrrns. Something moved! Was it a falling leaf? A cousin of the BIGGEST WASP-THING EVER who died yesterday between my windowpane and blinds in its heroic efforts to suck my blood?
Nope.
It's snowing.
We've had the shortest, wimpiest winter ever, half our ski station owners are seriously considering unemployment, people have been tentatively trying T-shirts for a couple of afternoons now -- and of course, that means that someone up there decided this meant it was the perfect moment for snow.
As in. You know. That cold, fluffy thing that's supposed to be white (or sometimes yellow.)
... Yeah.
I'm converting. It's just too WTF to be a coincidence. D:
ctulhu? is that you?
So there I was, sketching again, lalala. And then I look up through my window
Nope.
It's snowing.
We've had the shortest, wimpiest winter ever, half our ski station owners are seriously considering unemployment, people have been tentatively trying T-shirts for a couple of afternoons now -- and of course, that means that someone up there decided this meant it was the perfect moment for snow.
As in. You know. That cold, fluffy thing that's supposed to be white (or sometimes yellow.)
... Yeah.
I'm converting. It's just too WTF to be a coincidence. D:
ctulhu? is that you?
Naruto's voice is soft, the kind of softness that comes from having raged and screamed until something broke. "I wish I could still forgive you."
Sasuke's voice matches his, quiet and full of jagged shards under the flash of tenderness. "It's okay," he says, and his wry little smirk belongs to someone else, a cocky little brat who hadn't killed yet, who's been dead for so long. "I can't forgive me either."
They strike together, mirrored, perfect synch.
This time there isn't anyone left to stop them.
THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE. Damn it. I want me some narusasu, but I can't think of a plot, or a prompt, or stuff. I want some angst but not that much but not crack-humor either, I want some naughtiness but not a full lemon, I want -- argh. *flails* I don't know what I want. I just know that I don't want something that's been done and done and done.
T_T
Sasuke's voice matches his, quiet and full of jagged shards under the flash of tenderness. "It's okay," he says, and his wry little smirk belongs to someone else, a cocky little brat who hadn't killed yet, who's been dead for so long. "I can't forgive me either."
They strike together, mirrored, perfect synch.
This time there isn't anyone left to stop them.
THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE. Damn it. I want me some narusasu, but I can't think of a plot, or a prompt, or stuff. I want some angst but not that much but not crack-humor either, I want some naughtiness but not a full lemon, I want -- argh. *flails* I don't know what I want. I just know that I don't want something that's been done and done and done.
T_T
