perverse_idyll: (closeup)
( Jan. 23rd, 2015 11:48 pm)
Spotted here and there amongst my flist, most recently [livejournal.com profile] dbassassin, [livejournal.com profile] akatnamedeaster, and [livejournal.com profile] creascendo: When you see this, share 3 lines from each of 3 WIPs.

(In case you can't tell, I'm procrastinating, which I'm beginning to think is the arena in which I truly shine.)

1. Severus waits, unwilling to break the spell, as Harry's ephemeral presence circles him, rippling over, inside his skin, a ghost passing through as if he were a wall. It's Harry, he would swear to it before the Wizengamot, before the whole world, and when he closes his eyes the conviction grows so intense that he's not shocked when nonexistent lips touch his. Don't speak, they say, and the word "Harry" hangs suspended in the silence between them, glowing like a star.

2. Since she had no intention of delivering her next words to Rolanda whilst out of breath, Minerva said without breaking stride, "So. Now we're here, will you have me?"

She turned a keen glance at precisely the moment her companion dipped forward in shock and nearly forked herself broomstick-first into the bracken. Old hand that she was, Rolanda pulled up with reflexes so deft it was clear she'd barely registered her near-tumble, a simple twitch in the greater playbook of Quidditch moves.

3. Harry can tell when Snape bends forward, knows if he were to open his eyes, Snape's face would be right there, staring down at him with the devouring, contemptuous hunger that Harry can't seem to do without. He has a sudden image of himself suspended like a pendulum, blackness flapping, fading, Snape blurring in and out of view through banks of cloud, and he wishes he could have seen that. Could have seen how Snape fought the wind, how his magic kept them aloft, what the two of them looked like, bound together.

Observations: my sentences average out at rather too long, and I am a tad dramatic.
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perverse_idyll: (Default)
( Jan. 23rd, 2015 11:48 pm)
Spotted here and there amongst my flist, most recently [livejournal.com profile] dbassassin, [livejournal.com profile] akatnamedeaster, and [livejournal.com profile] creascendo: When you see this, share 3 lines from each of 3 WIPs.

(In case you can't tell, I'm procrastinating, which I'm beginning to think is the arena in which I truly shine.)

1. Severus waits, unwilling to break the spell, as Harry's ephemeral presence circles him, rippling over, inside his skin, a ghost passing through as if he were a wall. It's Harry, he would swear to it before the Wizengamot, before the whole world, and when he closes his eyes the conviction grows so intense that he's not shocked when nonexistent lips touch his. Don't speak, they say, and the word "Harry" hangs suspended in the silence between them, glowing like a star.

2. Since she had no intention of delivering her next words to Rolanda whilst out of breath, Minerva said without breaking stride, "So. Now we're here, will you have me?"

She turned a keen glance at precisely the moment her companion dipped forward in shock and nearly forked herself broomstick-first into the bracken. Old hand that she was, Rolanda pulled up with reflexes so deft it was clear she'd barely registered her near-tumble, a simple twitch in the greater playbook of Quidditch moves.

3. Harry can tell when Snape bends forward, knows if he were to open his eyes, Snape's face would be right there, staring down at him with the devouring, contemptuous hunger that Harry can't seem to do without. He has a sudden image of himself suspended like a pendulum, blackness flapping, fading, Snape blurring in and out of view through banks of cloud, and he wishes he could have seen that. Could have seen how Snape fought the wind, how his magic kept them aloft, what the two of them looked like, bound together.

Observation: my sentences average out at rather too long, and I am a tad dramatic.
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