blamebrampton (
blamebrampton) wrote2008-08-30 11:12 pm
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That first-lines meme
I am still sick to the point of brokenness, which is very annoying because there were any number of things I wanted to do this weekend. My brave but foolhardy friends from Tasmania came to visit, I look forward to hearding about the inevitable flu outbreak that will follow them home. Since functional thought is beyond me, I am indulging in the first lines meme. Except half my friends did last lines, and I couldn't decide which I preferred. So I did both for the stories that have endings.
The Fettered Wand
“Can you see them, Granger?”
Snatched
“Is that it?”
A few laughter-filled seconds later, Scorpius’s door followed suit.
Beneath Boundless Skies
It was, without doubt, the strangest Owl that Harry had ever received.
“Come on,” Harry reached down to him. “Let’s go home.”
Decline and Fall
“Where is it this time?”
And whether she would haunt his bed as surely as he haunted hers.
Pushing the Envelope
Percy stared at the parchment in front of him. His lower lip bore the imprint of teeth, between his brows a furrow wore deep.
He wondered if Penelope Clearwater was really back from Italy, as rumour had it. There were a lot of good words that rhymed with ‘water’.
An Act of Simple Devotion
You see him there, in the arms of his mother, his father leaning down over both of them. She looks about, perhaps she is looking for you. Later you will thank her, but not now.
It was not the worst day of Draco's life. There were too many contenders for that day as it was, all filled with screams and death and fear.
With great care, he climbed to his feet and toddled over to the tree, where there were at least eight bells within his reach.
Fathers Who Could Do With A Spot of Sinning
Harry Potter closes the door and leans back against it for a long moment, looking down at the rug, a smile glimmering at the edges of his mouth.
Sins of the Fathers
When Scorpius Malfoy is five years old, it occurs to him that he should have four grandparents, not three.
Al laughs, picks up two of the towels that are kept by the garden door and together they walk out into the sun and down towards the willows swaying in the breeze.
These Fragile Bonds
It was cold here. But he knew not to complain, because cold was better than dark, and anything was better than dead.
What has the exercise taught me? That I could possibly do with a bit more intellectualism and depth, and that I should really finish a few things. (It's worse than you know, I've omitted Shiv's birthday fic and there are two fests. And I need to speak fluent Italian by November ...)
The Fettered Wand
“Can you see them, Granger?”
Snatched
“Is that it?”
A few laughter-filled seconds later, Scorpius’s door followed suit.
Beneath Boundless Skies
It was, without doubt, the strangest Owl that Harry had ever received.
“Come on,” Harry reached down to him. “Let’s go home.”
Decline and Fall
“Where is it this time?”
And whether she would haunt his bed as surely as he haunted hers.
Pushing the Envelope
Percy stared at the parchment in front of him. His lower lip bore the imprint of teeth, between his brows a furrow wore deep.
He wondered if Penelope Clearwater was really back from Italy, as rumour had it. There were a lot of good words that rhymed with ‘water’.
An Act of Simple Devotion
You see him there, in the arms of his mother, his father leaning down over both of them. She looks about, perhaps she is looking for you. Later you will thank her, but not now.
And with that he reaches behind Draco and pushes the papers off the table and the pair of them onto it, and Draco is forced to agree.
It's a Blunderful LifeIt was not the worst day of Draco's life. There were too many contenders for that day as it was, all filled with screams and death and fear.
With great care, he climbed to his feet and toddled over to the tree, where there were at least eight bells within his reach.
Fathers Who Could Do With A Spot of Sinning
Harry Potter closes the door and leans back against it for a long moment, looking down at the rug, a smile glimmering at the edges of his mouth.
Sins of the Fathers
When Scorpius Malfoy is five years old, it occurs to him that he should have four grandparents, not three.
Al laughs, picks up two of the towels that are kept by the garden door and together they walk out into the sun and down towards the willows swaying in the breeze.
These Fragile Bonds
It was cold here. But he knew not to complain, because cold was better than dark, and anything was better than dead.
What has the exercise taught me? That I could possibly do with a bit more intellectualism and depth, and that I should really finish a few things. (It's worse than you know, I've omitted Shiv's birthday fic and there are two fests. And I need to speak fluent Italian by November ...)
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Peace,
Bubba
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Sorry you're still under the weather.
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Are you ready to face me in person with incompleted birthday fic?
It looks like I should be able to get the Friday off as well.
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Hah! I missed a few fics; will have to read now~
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And if you need help with Italian, I might be able to help. Just returning the favor, since you've been so generous with your knowledge of the English language with me. :D
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Also, I have quite a few of your fics to catch up on... :D
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am v. v. sorry to hear the illness has gotten the better of you. am doing fairly well fighting off mine still. though it is encroaching. [*sighs*]
[*sends chicken soup*]
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*headdesk*
*sends soup*
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Bugger for the bug - what is it with disease in this country this year? I swear, next year I'm going back on the flu shots, and they tell me there's one for pneumonia as well. Yep, I hate needles, and the after effects, but this might just have to happen. :(
So sorry you feel like crap. I have resigned myself to not seeing you before we go - this makes me uber sad, but at least I'll stop nagging you. If you do decide to get well (sorry, that's not meant to be snarky) and make a sudden flash visit next weekend, you will be more than welcome. I'm afraid diseased people are left on the doorstep with directions to the nearest tram stop. :D
Wow, I sound like a bitch today. I blame rockband. I've discovered it is possible to do serious neurological damage playing it for several hours in an evening; now my brain feels like mush and I have Bowie stuck in my head. Could be worse.
On a 'trying to sound like a friend' note - please may the powers of nature let you get well, and I hope you have a lovely sunday despite the dreadful illness. And in case I haven't told you lately - I love your writing.
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I hope you feel better soon, my dear! *sends you virtual hugs and happy thoughts*
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get better soon! *tries to drag your flu away*
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