writing fic is hard. did you know that if you don't use it, you lose it? it's totally true.
ian and i fucked up dinner tonight and i want to go cook an entirely different meal, right now, even though i'm not that hungry. i've had a low level headache all day and i just think that the cooking would be therapeutic and i want to make shredded chicken taco things.
an excerpt from this fic, which is going to turn out WAY less brilliant than i thought it would:
“You know I’m only trying out in solidarity, right?” Carly scribbled her name down in a few columns.
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun for you. Professional web comedian and all that, right?”
“Okay, but don’t expect me to get a part.” She put the clipboard down and turned around, to find Freddie hovering close behind her. “Hey! Sam made me sign up.”
Freddie smirked and turned to Sam, who was busy stealing Carly’s french fries off her lunch tray. “I bet Mrs. Prince will make you be a servant with a bit part so she doesn’t have to put up with you much.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Frederatio.” She flicked some milk from her straw at him. “What, you’re signing up, too?”
“Sure. Extra credit anywhere I can get it.” The paper was divided into male and female parts. Without looking, Freddie wrote his name on every male part’s column. The three of them headed straight for their usual table.
“Nub.”
“Slacker.”
“Do you two mind? I’m trying to eat.”
