charlie kelly's dram bok

1. The thing is, no one is supposed to actually give a damn about what is or is not—or was, or was not—potentially ever happening inside Amy's uterus.
   
   
2. Sansa all but floated from the gallery, hope taking wing in her once more after being so long stifled.
   
   
3. The Wolfswood gave way abruptly to a cleared field less than a day's ride from Winterfell.
   
   
4. The water was warm, even after sitting overnight in the chilly seaside air, and sour.
   
   
5. In the grand scheme of things, following someone you hardly knew and could barely stand halfway across the state to take them up on a job offer was ... a pretty great idea?
   
   
6. It was supposed to be different in Honeyhall, and it was, until tonight.
   
   
7. The wood took the spark and ignited, curls of smoke winding up through the thick, humid air.
   
   
8. New York City was... It was dirty, was what it was.
   
   
9. "My dear boy, you didn't think I'd allow anyone else to dictate terms to me, did you?"
   
   
10. Sam was neck-deep in the pool, treading water and blinking chlorinated drops out of his eyes as Mandy King stretched her arms over her head and bounced on the high dive.
    
    
11. The days got longer and the sun brighter, but nothing burned off the cold.
    
    
12. The bend of the creek was still warm from the sun where Ruth waded in to wash the blood from her legs.

In short, Amy swallowed her own sense of personal dignity—nothing new there—to take the heat for Selina, and that was fucking that. It should have been the smoothest thing she's managed to pull off since she wrangled Selina's way into the President's camp and onto the ticket, but nope. Nope. The gods reached down from on high and smacked her right in her stupid smug face one more time, just to show her they could.

Amy didn't just run screaming out of Bumpkinville yesterday. She's been around long enough to recognize that there's one thing that remains constant in Washington, no matter how many screaming matches erupt on the ever-growing horror show that is the American news media.

Arya clucked to Visenya, letting the reins fall slack against the mare's neck, and slid from the saddle. The still-healing gash across her thigh screamed in protest, her left leg almost collapsing under her slight weight. She clung to the straps securing her bedroll to the saddle and panted through the wave of pain. Her pulse pounded in her ears and in the swollen flesh where the sailor's knife had bitten through her leathers.

Sweat curled down the side of her face. Visenya snorted and shifted her weight, almost sending Arya sprawling again.

In the grand scheme of things, following someone you hardly knew and could barely stand halfway across the state to take them up on a job offer was ... a pretty great idea?

Yeah, it took Charlotte by surprise, too.

Ricky was, well, Ricky. Uh, Mr Collins, though it was hard to remember to call him that. He'd always been Ricky, since the first time she found him hiding behind the coats in kindergarten. She would swear he even still had the same rainboots, albeit in a more age-appropriate size.

For weeks she had been terrified at every moment, from morning to night. Her fear was a monster waiting to snatch her up in its jaws whenever it pleased. It followed her into sleep and waited for her to awake. The queen knew she was ready to bear the king's children, and every day she waited to hear that her wedding day had been set. Or for Joffrey to tell her himself, his foul lips curving around the words she never wanted to hear. Now that Stannis had retreated, there was nothing to stand in their way.

• Who've you got in the Super Bowl? I've got Not The Ravens Please Anybody But The Ravens Unless They Win In Which Case They're Still The Browns Anyway Shut Up. By ten.



• So, The Wire. Greatest piece of television in the history of ever y/mfy/don't argue with me? I'm making a concerted effort to actually finish it, stymied by my inability to a) start an ep before one in the morning and b) stay awake for an hour at a time. So I'm starting S1 over again and THIS TIME I WILL GET ALL THE WAY THROUGH IT IN A REASONABLE AMOUNT OF TIME WITHOUT MY HEART BREAKING*. >:(
  
  Also I accidentally got Sin hooked on it. \o/ I mean, whoops!



• If you follow me on Tumblr, you can probably skip this part :)
  
  

  HEY SO to ease my transition back into thinking and writing and using complete sentences in coherent patterns on a regular schedule aka I'M GOING BACK TO SCHOOL FINALLY, I am taking some free classes at Coursera.
  
  Anybody want to join me?
  
  Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World started a few days ago, but you might still be able to enroll. The Modern and the Postmodern(!) starts in less than a week! And in less than a month: Women and the Civil Rights Movement!!!




• Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.
  
  

  She would endure this. Curl in on herself like the pebbled beetles that tried to hide themselves from the ravens' pecking. Until there was nothing left for him to touch but the brittle shell that had once been a girl. Joffrey could do whatever he liked, then, as she knew he would. She would never feel it. It would slide right over her skin.

  
  
  :(

trope_bingo

mynuet

Rank and sweaty from the oppressive heat, Nick almost dropped his key before he managed to get it in the lock. The blue-white lights buzzing overhead turned his skin the color of fish guts and unnatural shadows jumped in his peripheral vision. He felt like he was shaking off a massive push, bigger than anything Division had thrown at him, instead of just stumbling home from another day in a way too long streak of honest days' work.

ishieland