I was tagged by @iwt-v, who knows that I’m weak for this meme. Thanks!
Rules: Post the last sentence you wrote, and tag as many people as there are words in that sentence.
I’m leaving the strikethroughs because I never, ever do just one sentence on this meme – it would be an exercise in futility. Also, I’ve been working on a few things at the same time, so here’s bits from each:
1. This is going to be fluff, I promise:
“Pray listen rather than interrupting,” he snaps. “I have raised James as best I was able, with the knowledge that whatever harm I have done him has been offset at least in part by the good turn I was able to do him in the process. You, on the other hand, have taken Charles from a life of hardship, and I fear that you are doing him little good by way of return, based on the simple fact that the lad would not know comfort if it were to rear up and bite him. He knows still less, I suspect, of what it is to receive a friendly suggestion rather than take an order from a superior. He does not know -”
2. The latest chapter of Reclamation:
“Motherfucking – son of a bitching -”
His cursing is muffled, but still audible, and she finds herself wincing. The shirt is stuck – plastered to him with dried blood in spots – large spots, sticking to him and undoubtedly pulling at wounds that have reopened with the past several hours’ exertion. He is not, Madi thinks, doing himself any favors, and she reaches out with one hand to touch his arm, just as Cornelius does the same.
“Stop,” they say at the same moment, and Cornelius rises.
“I will fetch some water,” he says. “Captain. Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” she says, and earns a brief, almost startled smile from Cornelius. Like most of Julius’s people, he is not used to this – to being thanked for his efforts, not yet. He will learn – Madi is determined on that point.
3. So… I kind of have a thing in the works that I’ve been wanting to do since Christmas:
She has not had chocolate – not in so very long. The thought of it does not dull her misery – the last time was with Thomas, but the kindness of the gesture is not lost on her. She attempts a smile – not, she feels, very successfully, but it seems to reassure Mrs. Wells nonetheless.
“I fear it is a long tale,” she says, and allows herself to be drawn upward and helped to the sleigh.
“A long tale means a long time by the fire, ma’am,” Robert, her fellow servant in the household, rumbles. “Let me give you hand.”
She is handed up and into the sleigh, and just for a moment – just for a second –
She squeezes her eyes shut, and imagines that it is James’ callused hand rather than Robert’s and she begins to weep. She does not stop, not for some time.
4. (Shut up, I know, I know. Too many irons in the fire) This is some belated pancake-day fluff:
“Too right I would,” the bald pirate in question answers, and sticks his head into the room again. He looks at Gates and snorts. “Remind me why you’re quartermaster and not cook?”
“Because if I had to do this all day every day, I’d poison the lot of you and then set fire to the ship,” Gates answers. “Have the lads finished bringing in the supplies?”
“Aye,” Muldoon answers with a grin. “Best hurry up with the first batch – Joji’s eyeing that sword of his, and Mr. De Groot’s getting growly.”
I’m tagging @bean-about-townn, @captainfuckingflint, @squid-inspiration, and anyone else that wants!
Meg's Mumbles 