leigh57 | Not that anybody should believe me even a little...

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Not that anybody should believe me even a little...

Shamelessly adapted from

sardonicynic's recent post:

Pick a character or pairing from 24 (sorry to be so specific, but it's where my brain is right now), give me some a song lyric, and I will attempt at least 100 words of fic for you.

I know. I didn't write any of them last time. So I understand if you're all just like, PFT. However, my brain is in this mood where it just can't settle down, and I'd really like to find out if I'm capable of writing anything that doesn't turn into a thousand words minimum. I'm teaching all week, so I can mess with these at work, too:)

I think I'll cap it at 12 though, because even that's probably ambitious, given my recent success with prompts.

Crystal, I'm so excited to prompt you I'm squeaking;)

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I still don't know who the fuck Adam Lambert is. But uh, I can write something with those lyrics in mind, so word;)

Dumb question: What's FML?

*dies laughing*

Fuck My Life:)

Good to know

I feel as if it must have been Larry's S7 mantra. Until he didn't have a life anymore.

Adam Lambert was runner up for American Idol two seasons ago (2009). Supposedly there was controversy because pictures of him kissing boys popped up during the competition, thus outing him, which some say cost him the title even though he should have won (YMMV on that). He didn't really care, though.

The song in question is:

Again, I have never seen a full episode of AI or even clips from that particular season but everyone would not shut up about it at work/on boards, which is why I know it.

Also, I totally jumped on the meme bandwagon. Damn you. ;)

Jack/Renee
Challengers, by The New Pornographers

On the walls of the day
In the shade of the sun, we wrote down
Another vision of us
We were the challengers of the unknown

Sending you the song now.

It wasn't me! I am just a total loser who gets reminded when

sardonicynic puts up meme prompt posts!

OMG I LOVE YOU.

Ideas woah now. Stop the madness. Oh, shippy ME!

I am . . . so afraid. Of his hair. Good god. Thank the lord my TV is furniture;)

Yay!

Right. If that's true, I've got a bridge you might be interested in. Great view of Brooklyn.

One of these days, I'm going to get a scowly!Havers icon, and I will use it.

Until then, you could at least use the meme you foisted on me! ;P

She never believed in this place. Now she’s here.

Her brother would have laughed, said I told you so. In flashes, she appreciates the irony, but she guesses she’s supposed to feel lucky and she feels . . . alone.

The knock makes her jump. Fuck. She was never this jittery when she was . . . alive?

“I’m coming!” she yells, half-regretting the bitter veneer that shrink-wraps her words. She cinches the soft tie on her fluffy pale-blue bathrobe and tries not to think how badly she wants the . . . other one. The one with see-through elbows and coffee stains on the front.

She swings the door open. Larry’s standing there, hair damp but combed, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“Shit!” She remembers. Lunch and racquetball. She told him noon. It must be at least two by now. It’s funny – there are clocks everywhere, but she doesn’t like to look at them. “I’m sorry. The game-”

He shrugs and holds out the coffee. “Racquetball’s boring.”

She wants to say What isn’t?, but she takes the scalding coffee (which should burn her hand but of course doesn’t) and steps back. “You want to come in?”

“Only for a minute.” He walks past her. His cologne smells the same. The way it did when she sat in front of him for her first interview, reminding herself over and over not to fidget, to keep her hands still. The way it did the time they worked all night on the McCaffrey case, even though she had a stomach virus, and she had to sit four desks away from him to make sure she didn’t catch a whiff.

The way it did when he walked into holding to tell her that Jack had been infected with the biotoxin.

She wants to hit things, split her knuckles, see blood and ripped skin.

Skin doesn't rip here.

“You okay?” he asks.

“No. I want to go home.”

He sips his coffee. It’s so quiet she can hear him swallow. Time stretches, whatever time is, here.

“Why do they deliver goddamn Newsweek?” she asks, as if this is at present the most important question in the world.

Larry sets his coffee cup on the counter and takes a few steps toward her. “The night I got here, the only thing I cared about was finding out what happened to you and Jack. I didn’t mind being dead except-” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “It makes me a terrible person to be glad you’re here, right? It does. I know. But I am.” He pauses, and Renee watches his face, changing expressions like a kaleidoscope. “I missed you.” His voice is quiet and haunted.

She takes a sip of the coffee. It’s the best coffee she’s ever tasted, and she doesn’t care. “I miss him,” she says. “I want to know if-”

“I know. But it doesn’t work like that. So play racquetball with me.”

He’s hazy and swirled through the liquid that distorts her vision. She smiles, muscles without meaning. “Okay. Let me change.”

-- oh my god, I just snorted at the screen.

/terrible person

Dude. I think maybe the only person who loves Larry more than I do is Kay. Or Adrienne. Tossup. Hee!

Tony. Just, wtf mate?

You. Me. AIM. 10 pm Monday night, got it?

BECAUSE IT IS THE MOFO-ING CASTLE PREMIERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OUT OF MY JOURNAL, PREMIERE SQUEERS!

*cries*

Oh, lucky people who still have shows:-P

I HUGZ U, BB!

Honestly, the only reason I still have a show is because I started watching Castle before The Clusterfuck, and they haven't had one. Yet. I'm still up in the air on whether I'll follow Glee at all, and nothing else looks good. I'm probably going to mostly rewatch Lynley and maybe see what all the fuss is with Murder, She Wrote. And finish DS9.

Augh! I just realized the trauma of writing comment-fic in your own journal is that you can't edit it. I was up at 4:30 a.m. thinking of ways to make this better. So if it vanishes and reappears, you'll know what happened;)

Anyway! Thank you for reading, even though it's just . . . rough. I don't blame you for loving a show with no heartbreak at all. Apparently, I'm just not cut out for them. New this week right? Yay!

Whoa. Yeah, some Larry/Renee. Where are they? Heaven?

That was great. And a quick turnaround. And so surreal. Go you.

I'm all verklempt over here at the idea of them hanging out in heaven and wanting to be there but not being able to. The absurdity of Newsweek and racquetball are nice touches, and Larry being so...Larry with his concern and love for her, even if it's not the way she needs to be loved.

I like this a lot. A LOT A LOT. You might even say as much as I love ALOT.

I'm in a weird mood right now, but thanks for the ficlet and the reminder of how much I loved their friendship.

Of course they're in heaven! Because they're awesome. I have a hilarious riff in my head on what poor Jack's gonna do with all those women when he gets there. Maybe that's why he keeps managing not to die;)

Thanks for reading even though it's not your prompt! I decided to just do these as comment fic to get myself moving and see if it reduced the pressure. Quality suffers, but at least I write something, and I've been missing that.

Well, you're part of the reason I feel for Larry so hard, although in the end I'm sure it would have happened no matter what. I'm actually surprised, now that it's all over, how high he ranks in my list of "24 characters I adore."

You love it as much as you love ALOT? That's a lot! ;)

Sorry you're in weird mood. We should hang -- I've been in one for like a week now. But you have premiere week, so that should be cheering you up! Thanks for reading my insanely quick flashfic here:)

Oh.

Oh.

I love this. A lot. The ordered chaos and the flawed perfections; the details about the clocks and the coffee — it's like stepping into a world Dali built, only it makes more sense. Until it doesn't. ♥

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Not that anybody should believe me even a little...

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Renee/Larry [Any place except your heart]

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