5th November

Now playing: Something random on the radio.

I could write something really witty about the elections (Yay Obama!), or I could make some comment about Guy Fawkes' Night, or what's on TV, but, I'm just going to do this:

35k! *dies*

I'm tired, and every part of my body hurts except my face. Blergh. It's all worth it though! I feel like a machine! (Never mind that spanner that somebody threw in there last week, we seem to working -fwjiomg- fine?)

Lines for today (the best shit you've ever read):

Wait, did I say quiet street? I meant mostly quiet but with the odd sound of muffled footsteps and a few odd moans and coughs. Moans? Grabbing onto Danger’s shoulders for moral support, I poked my head around her side and let my jaw drop at what I saw. They were shuffling, like humans, but their faces were drained of all colour and life.

“Holy crap!” Kez cried in shock, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What are they?”

“I think they’re... old people.” Cassidy’s face was a mask of horror as she took in the scene. “They’re old people, right?”

And, from Rouge:

“I never said it was your fault,” I countered. “I just said that I hated her, and that I wanted a hug. Why do you always take everything to be so much more important than it really is? You read into things too much.”

“It comes from having an evil overlord-wannabe as a sister,” he said sadly. “You’ve really screwed me over, you know.”

I got to my feet and sauntered over to him, rubbing my hands through his thick hair. He froze under my touch, and then leaned against me, as though he was letting everything go and was more than ready to let me love him.

“You see?” he added quietly. “You’ve really messed me up.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” I murmured, leaning over so my breath tickled his ear. “Why would I do that?”

“You’re making me commit sin,” he answered earnestly. So earnestly, in fact, that I found myself giggling.

“You’ve been listening to Indigo again, haven’t you?”

“She makes some good points, you know. You just never listen to her.”

“That little bitch,” I said fondly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s not one of us, not really related to us. Having the same mother doesn’t count, you know.”

“Of course it counts,” he argued. “She’s still our sister.”

“Bastard sister,” I cracked. “Sure. I’ll start listening to her when hell freezes over. Now, can I have that hug or not? I’m really feeling the need for some love here.”

Words written today: 5,206 (so far)
Wordcount: 35,514 (so far)