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maderrI warn you now, my homeslices, it's probably gonna be a shitty week for me. We're down at least two people every day, I think, and there's other stupid drama stuff goig on as well -__-
Sorry I've had no writings to post of late. I've been editing and editing. One more story and I'll have the short stories ready for formmating. Then I guess I'll edit Sandstorm x_x
Mayhap I will try to write something at lunch/on bus. I started writing a bit of something the other day, lessee.... *digs out notebook*
Only a teensy little bit, sadly:
"I'm cold."
"Kill the vampire, sweetheart, then you can have a hot shower and a cup of coffee."
Locke smiled, but didn't let it slip into his voice. "Fuck you," he said. "You only call me sweetheart when you think I'm being a baby."
"Whatever you say. Sweetheart."
Rolling his eyes, Locke pulled out his guns one by one and checked them one last time. "Key, stop trying to flirt with your boss and do your damn job."
"Yes, sweetheart," Key replied, and Locke could hear him typing furiously away on his laptop.
Locke made a mental note to administer a beating when he got back to base. Lightly touching his clothing, his weapons, ensuring all was as it should be and could be grabbed in a moments notice -- or not grabbed, whichever applied -- he climbed out of his beat up car, popped a piece of cinnamon gum, and started walking down the dark street toward the apartment building at the end of it.
Sorry I've had no writings to post of late. I've been editing and editing. One more story and I'll have the short stories ready for formmating. Then I guess I'll edit Sandstorm x_x
Mayhap I will try to write something at lunch/on bus. I started writing a bit of something the other day, lessee.... *digs out notebook*
Only a teensy little bit, sadly:
"I'm cold."
"Kill the vampire, sweetheart, then you can have a hot shower and a cup of coffee."
Locke smiled, but didn't let it slip into his voice. "Fuck you," he said. "You only call me sweetheart when you think I'm being a baby."
"Whatever you say. Sweetheart."
Rolling his eyes, Locke pulled out his guns one by one and checked them one last time. "Key, stop trying to flirt with your boss and do your damn job."
"Yes, sweetheart," Key replied, and Locke could hear him typing furiously away on his laptop.
Locke made a mental note to administer a beating when he got back to base. Lightly touching his clothing, his weapons, ensuring all was as it should be and could be grabbed in a moments notice -- or not grabbed, whichever applied -- he climbed out of his beat up car, popped a piece of cinnamon gum, and started walking down the dark street toward the apartment building at the end of it.
