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gip
Spammy spam spam! Made a few icons I've been wanting for a while.
I really do have lots of other stuff to do, why can't I convince myself of that?
The original photo of this new icon is so perfectly composed that there's *no way* to crop it and have it look okay at lj size. If anyone can do it better, I will owe you an icon of your choice.
Also, the new-ish icon comments thing is really fun, I should have got around to using it earlier.
They seem to have turned off the heat again, now that it's actually chilly. WHYY??
Oh, and to go with gip and spam, meme! The one where you post one sentence from each of your WIPs? Right. Well, what I did is go through my entire "creative" folder file by file, and from every story that wasn't marked 'complete' which still holds my interest I pulled out one sentence, counting up in order, first sentence in the first file, second sentence in the second file, and so on. Mind you, this only includes WIPS which are in files in that folder, not ones that are all handwritten or on lj somewhere.
"Of course, this is an experiment, and success isn't -- ah, success--"
I knew chances were it wouldn't be. Perhaps it is lucky for the rest of the galaxy, then, that life on high-grav planets is usually too occupied with mere survival to bother with intelligence or civilization; and if a highgrav race does reach civilization, they are still trapped at the bottom of an incredibly deep gravity well.
Not that he expected anyone in this godforsaken dustbowl to be able to make the distinction. It wasn't his companion, the dark beardless one across the table, who was wearing the embroidered chlamys of the young and tragically hip, and very little else.
"Well, can't you just give it back then?"
"My meals were brought by the Martha, also veiled, codenamed Miriam." He stopped in purple shadow and looked up. Jamison shook his head. When his friends ragged him about it, he said loudly and laughingly that he'd plenty of time, but he had a lot of things he wanted to do before he settled down, and wouldn't want to mislead a poor girl.
"So you're back among the living," the man added to her silence. All the same, it was getting late. He was the best prospect by far.
"Don't like him much is something of an understatement," he replied. "He was Harry."
Suddenly, on impulse, she moves over behind the child and lifts the chess set down, placing it on a low table. They'd taken advantage of the lovely weather as well, studying and napping on the lawns. "You planned this. What if you accidentally caught someone's pet?"
"I should have known better, of course, but it was a life-or-death situation, and I refuse to regret my decision." Make the unpleasant unobtrusive-- like the spell that noiselessly propelled the boat over the sea to the fortress island, and is now sending it back across the water, leaving me and my parchment stranded here.
He kept staring pointedly at the ceiling, flipping the gyroscope and catching it back on his finger. "But my father always said it's much easier to manipulate greed than fear." It was a huge black dog, scruffy and blue-eyed, and it was the source of the not-Zoi feeling.
"The endemic violence, the essential destructiveness, the emphasis on penetration-- it's a quintessentially masculine sport--"
Tired of his eyes following her around the room, then, she broke the silence. "Once upon a time there was a King who lived in a small but rich kingdom surrounded by a deep, dark forest."
It required an apocalyptic commotion to atract his notice. It was with a rush of relief that she saw the Queen gaze on her with only a remote majestic kindness. Actually `questioning' is perhaps an overstatement; there were about five minutes of bombast, bluster, and threats for every actual question he asked. As she grew older and prettier, too, she learned that there were other dangers than being found out as one destined to become a vampire. Immersed in warm water and staring at the stony ceiling, she began to recall last night's dream.
"Sunshine and rainbows, we broke up fifteen years ago." I stirred my drink with the straw, and smiled innocently up at him.
She waved, and dived under the ocean. The ought to have brought up another program, quickly, and faked working on homework, but the had almost won ther game, and ther parent probably wouldn't check up on ther anyway. It was a fine sunny morning and the beans needed picking anyway. If it may be, give me the means to free myself of this; and give me the wisdom and strength to bear it well if bear it I must.
They'd been his father's secret. "If anyone's going to be daft enough to spot you the money, it's there. Curses can be useful, though, and my employers rather imagine they can come to an accord with the Aztec spirits-- they've endured much the same, the past three hundred years."
"Does this mean we can quit chasing glit smugglers and get back to killing Rebs?" When she lifted her gaze she saw that her mother had drifted back into her reverie, looking inward and muttering to herself. "Perhaps the others were right, you have spent too long working among them."
"We'd fallen out of touch lately-- for the most part-- although I understand you've made his acquaintance a few times. Besides," she added, smiling a little as she sat back down, "I want to know the news, too."
I really do have lots of other stuff to do, why can't I convince myself of that?
The original photo of this new icon is so perfectly composed that there's *no way* to crop it and have it look okay at lj size. If anyone can do it better, I will owe you an icon of your choice.
Also, the new-ish icon comments thing is really fun, I should have got around to using it earlier.
They seem to have turned off the heat again, now that it's actually chilly. WHYY??
Oh, and to go with gip and spam, meme! The one where you post one sentence from each of your WIPs? Right. Well, what I did is go through my entire "creative" folder file by file, and from every story that wasn't marked 'complete' which still holds my interest I pulled out one sentence, counting up in order, first sentence in the first file, second sentence in the second file, and so on. Mind you, this only includes WIPS which are in files in that folder, not ones that are all handwritten or on lj somewhere.
"Of course, this is an experiment, and success isn't -- ah, success--"
I knew chances were it wouldn't be. Perhaps it is lucky for the rest of the galaxy, then, that life on high-grav planets is usually too occupied with mere survival to bother with intelligence or civilization; and if a highgrav race does reach civilization, they are still trapped at the bottom of an incredibly deep gravity well.
Not that he expected anyone in this godforsaken dustbowl to be able to make the distinction. It wasn't his companion, the dark beardless one across the table, who was wearing the embroidered chlamys of the young and tragically hip, and very little else.
"Well, can't you just give it back then?"
"My meals were brought by the Martha, also veiled, codenamed Miriam." He stopped in purple shadow and looked up. Jamison shook his head. When his friends ragged him about it, he said loudly and laughingly that he'd plenty of time, but he had a lot of things he wanted to do before he settled down, and wouldn't want to mislead a poor girl.
"So you're back among the living," the man added to her silence. All the same, it was getting late. He was the best prospect by far.
"Don't like him much is something of an understatement," he replied. "He was Harry."
Suddenly, on impulse, she moves over behind the child and lifts the chess set down, placing it on a low table. They'd taken advantage of the lovely weather as well, studying and napping on the lawns. "You planned this. What if you accidentally caught someone's pet?"
"I should have known better, of course, but it was a life-or-death situation, and I refuse to regret my decision." Make the unpleasant unobtrusive-- like the spell that noiselessly propelled the boat over the sea to the fortress island, and is now sending it back across the water, leaving me and my parchment stranded here.
He kept staring pointedly at the ceiling, flipping the gyroscope and catching it back on his finger. "But my father always said it's much easier to manipulate greed than fear." It was a huge black dog, scruffy and blue-eyed, and it was the source of the not-Zoi feeling.
"The endemic violence, the essential destructiveness, the emphasis on penetration-- it's a quintessentially masculine sport--"
Tired of his eyes following her around the room, then, she broke the silence. "Once upon a time there was a King who lived in a small but rich kingdom surrounded by a deep, dark forest."
It required an apocalyptic commotion to atract his notice. It was with a rush of relief that she saw the Queen gaze on her with only a remote majestic kindness. Actually `questioning' is perhaps an overstatement; there were about five minutes of bombast, bluster, and threats for every actual question he asked. As she grew older and prettier, too, she learned that there were other dangers than being found out as one destined to become a vampire. Immersed in warm water and staring at the stony ceiling, she began to recall last night's dream.
"Sunshine and rainbows, we broke up fifteen years ago." I stirred my drink with the straw, and smiled innocently up at him.
She waved, and dived under the ocean. The ought to have brought up another program, quickly, and faked working on homework, but the had almost won ther game, and ther parent probably wouldn't check up on ther anyway. It was a fine sunny morning and the beans needed picking anyway. If it may be, give me the means to free myself of this; and give me the wisdom and strength to bear it well if bear it I must.
They'd been his father's secret. "If anyone's going to be daft enough to spot you the money, it's there. Curses can be useful, though, and my employers rather imagine they can come to an accord with the Aztec spirits-- they've endured much the same, the past three hundred years."
"Does this mean we can quit chasing glit smugglers and get back to killing Rebs?" When she lifted her gaze she saw that her mother had drifted back into her reverie, looking inward and muttering to herself. "Perhaps the others were right, you have spent too long working among them."
"We'd fallen out of touch lately-- for the most part-- although I understand you've made his acquaintance a few times. Besides," she added, smiling a little as she sat back down, "I want to know the news, too."
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And DUDE, I thought I had too many WIPs. And I'm just sleepy and hungry enough that the almost-story almost makes sense.
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MY first-grade teacher gave us a sheet of paper on the first day of class and told us to write a story. She took it away from me before mine was finished and told me I could work on it later, when she gave it back at the end of the year. The WIP thing is her fault.
And yes, I'm going to finish that story someday too, I just have to finish researching Sydney airport. q-:
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I know, I know, I'm unworthy! But I fell in love with the story behind the photograph. And the photograph itself, because Oscar Wilde in velvet knee breeches! Okay, and a little bit in love with Oscar Wilde himself, as futile as that may be.
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