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16 February 2005 @ 02:32 am
I could do with some distractions, right about now.  
So I'm going to list some last lines from my stories, and if anything moves you, you can write me a ficlet. It'll be fun, I promise.

For me, anyway.

She wonders what signs Buffy will leave behind.

Maybe he’d just been waiting for Ray to thaw out a little.

"Ray, do you ever have trouble sleeping?"

And neither of them would say anything. They wouldn't have to.

When he looks up, it´s snowing

He endures, and that´s no small thing, he tells himself. It´s no small thing.

And the clock ticks on, hands slipping future-ward as two men make love in the tilted room.

He never dies. Nightmares never do.

He smiles – it’s going to be a good spring after all.

“Jonah,” it says, “Jonah.”

And this is what *you* are like in the rain.

He never knew heartbreak was filled with such stillness.

The moon pushes its way up through the thick orange of the sunset, and Clark's happy –just as he is.

He stayed that way until mornings, eyes open. Unsteady under layers of blankets, watching sun rise – alone.

She puts down the top of her convertible, and presses her foot firmly on the accelerator, and doesn't think about anything as she drives toward Smallville -- as she drives toward home.

Lex pants at the ceiling and rolls over, alone in his bridal bed.

And if you're not up to doing that, that's cool. But you know, if you maybe wanted to say something like "Lindsey and Angel are SO HOT OMG" or "I <3 Ioan Gruffudd" or just anything positive that makes you smile, that'd be neat. I need to cheer up a little before I can even thinking about dealing with my day.
Current Mood: indescribableindescribable
Current Music: Strange Fruit-Billie Holiday-Billie Holiday
lynnmonsterlynnmonster on February 16th, 2005 06:42 pm (UTC)
When he looks up, it´s snowing.

He hasn't had to deal with snow yet -- Chicago's cycled through a sticky summer and a wistful fall and a lot of really cold days -- but it's not really winter till it snows, and it's snowing now.

He takes a deep breath and, over the exhaust and smog and restaurant garbage, he smells something clean and sharp. Little delicate ice crystals sting his stubbled cheeks and chin and then melt, leaving his face damp.

Fraser might have smiled, if he'd been here.
Qqe2 on February 16th, 2005 07:28 pm (UTC)
pure FORESHADOWING: angelina sexnifra_idril on February 16th, 2005 07:51 pm (UTC)
Oh, that's so pretty -- and *sad*. I don't know why, but I read that like Fraser's dead. That may just be my mental state, but it made me cover my mouth and say, "Oh" a few times at the hurt of it. Gah, so good.
lynnmonsterlynnmonster on February 17th, 2005 02:40 am (UTC)
Oh, damn -- NO, that's not what I meant at all! Just, Ray in Chicago, while Fraser is not.

And, um, I somehow skimmed over the "positive" part of your request... oops?

Half of what I say is meaninglessfarwing on February 17th, 2005 03:27 am (UTC)
I also read it as Fraser being dead. Lovely and sad and dead. *sniffle*
sprat: rayk by tararsprat on February 16th, 2005 08:07 pm (UTC)
Oh, ouch. Pretty, pretty ouch.