a superhero who was a giant desert tortoise taking on supervillain that was a giant intelligent lettuce.
BWAHAHAHA! That is SO much better than my dream!
Xander: Just once I'd like to run into a cult of bunny worshippers. Anya: Great. Thank you very much for those nightmares.
'Sleeper'
The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Strix - Jan 31, 2012 8:14:21 am PST #5061 of 6690
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
sumi - Jan 31, 2012 9:40:44 am PST #5062 of 6690
Art Crawl!!!
Yeah, that is an excellent dream.
Toddson - Jan 31, 2012 11:03:22 am PST #5063 of 6690
Friends don't let friends read "Atlas Shrugged"
sigh ... I never remember my dreams, although I doubt they've ever been as awesome as Typo's.
erikaj - Feb 03, 2012 7:35:52 am PST #5064 of 6690
Always Anti-fascist!
150 pages on the book today.Which I think is about halfway, unless some subplot really jumps off.(Which it might...I mean, I know who the killer is and such, but am not entirely sure how to get there.)
Typo Boy - Feb 03, 2012 4:43:19 pm PST #5065 of 6690
Calli: My people have a saying. A man who trusts can never be betrayed, only mistaken.Avon: Life expectancy among your people must be extremely short.
I never remember my dreams, although I doubt they've ever been as awesome as Typo's.
Easy to achieve. JUst get a chronic medical condition which means you never sleep more than 2 hours in a row without having to get up. With all that time spent falling asleep and waking up, you too can have vivid dreams and no problem remembering them.
SailAweigh - Feb 04, 2012 1:15:41 pm PST #5066 of 6690
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Streetwalker
Every day she walks the sidewalks, her steps heavy, leaden, slapping the cement with dull thuds that assault her ears as they assault her joints. She counts the steps, getting lost in the numbers when they remind her that the mortgage is due in two days; she's short. There's power in numbers, but only if they add up in her favor. Her steps keep adding up until she arrives at work where commitment and ability earn only more duties and responsibility without the just rewards that a good worker expects. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Amy - Feb 06, 2012 4:34:03 am PST #5067 of 6690
Because books.
So many drabbles! We're awesome. And now for a new prompt:
crack
hippocampus - Feb 06, 2012 6:05:03 am PST #5068 of 6690
not your mom's socks.
oh procrastination... you feckless muse.
Fine. fine finefinefine. This wanted to be a poem. With apologies to... um. Everyone.
What Came Forth
It opened, the crack
in the grave ground
where the stone marked your lack,
and my lost heart, lost luck.
Then came forth a sound
that heaved wider this crack
and hands stained black
pushed the ground aside.
I ran, but speed I lacked
and your form rose to attack
grabbed my shoulder, pulled
I sped up, your knees cracked
but you followed, mouth slack
moaning your love,
your hungry lack.
Now the grave ground trips and coils.
Like old times, I run, you follow
I'd tired of waiting for the ground to crack,
now I'm flying through a world you no longer lack.
eta - line breaks.
hippocampus - Feb 06, 2012 10:52:48 am PST #5069 of 6690
not your mom's socks.
bad poemdrabble killed the thread?
Amy - Feb 06, 2012 11:50:08 am PST #5070 of 6690
Because books.
Could just be a Monday. Or everyone, uh, shot their wad last week.
I've been distracted with work and dogsitting all day, so mostly I would just like some crack, and then to pass into oblivion for a little while.
I like "hands stained black/pushed the ground aside" a lot.