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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1Utl5zM:
So what with the sick day on Friday I just had a three-day weekend in which i basically didn’t leave the house.
I did laundry, wrote, edited, and looked at the Internet for brief spans of time.
I didn’t add a lot to the wordcount but I organized.
I feel like I’ve got a handle on this beast. I feel like I’m making progress. I feel like it’s not just ballooning into an out-of-control mess.
I feel hollowed-out and slightly deranged. I feel a lot of things. At kind of a distance.
IDK man, I just don’t. But I would not be here if @albymangroves had not asked if I wanted to write a Star Wars thing. And overall, here is a good place.
The lamplight in the little round hut was soft and yellow, and Poe was so beautiful in it, humming to himself as he brushed his teeth shirtless, puttering around with no shoes on. He leaned out the door to spit in the bushes, and the moonlight was silver and the lamplight was gold, and Finn sat at the desk with his brand new Resistance-issue toothbrush (a significantly different design than the ones he’d always used, wasn’t that a weird thing to consider) in his mouth like a dummy and stared at him.
I’d fly away, Poe sang absently, to the one I love, in the tune he’d been humming. He rinsed and leaned out the door to spit again, and to dump more water over his toothbrush.
Was that it? Was there someone? Finn wasn’t sure how that worked. All the love songs seemed predicated on only ever loving one person. But that wasn’t really how people seemed to operate around here.
“The deluxe sanitary facilities are all yours,” Poe said, gesturing to the water pitcher and the open door, laughing. Finn smiled helplessly at him, and finished brushing his teeth with the tiny soft toothbrush, and rinsed and spit and put his toothbrush next to Poe’s.
So what with the sick day on Friday I just had a three-day weekend in which i basically didn’t leave the house.
I did laundry, wrote, edited, and looked at the Internet for brief spans of time.
I didn’t add a lot to the wordcount but I organized.
I feel like I’ve got a handle on this beast. I feel like I’m making progress. I feel like it’s not just ballooning into an out-of-control mess.
I feel hollowed-out and slightly deranged. I feel a lot of things. At kind of a distance.
IDK man, I just don’t. But I would not be here if @albymangroves had not asked if I wanted to write a Star Wars thing. And overall, here is a good place.
The lamplight in the little round hut was soft and yellow, and Poe was so beautiful in it, humming to himself as he brushed his teeth shirtless, puttering around with no shoes on. He leaned out the door to spit in the bushes, and the moonlight was silver and the lamplight was gold, and Finn sat at the desk with his brand new Resistance-issue toothbrush (a significantly different design than the ones he’d always used, wasn’t that a weird thing to consider) in his mouth like a dummy and stared at him.
I’d fly away, Poe sang absently, to the one I love, in the tune he’d been humming. He rinsed and leaned out the door to spit again, and to dump more water over his toothbrush.
Was that it? Was there someone? Finn wasn’t sure how that worked. All the love songs seemed predicated on only ever loving one person. But that wasn’t really how people seemed to operate around here.
“The deluxe sanitary facilities are all yours,” Poe said, gesturing to the water pitcher and the open door, laughing. Finn smiled helplessly at him, and finished brushing his teeth with the tiny soft toothbrush, and rinsed and spit and put his toothbrush next to Poe’s.
