never trust a big butt and a smile (obeetaybee) wrote,
never trust a big butt and a smile
obeetaybee

tomorrow night, will all the thrill be gone?

My hands are better, enough to type at least. Last night, holy crap was I in some pain. After I posted, I took two motrins and fell right into bed, where I had the weirdest dream.

My dreams have always been off. Scott swears I enter an alternate reality when I dream, that's how vivid they are.

Anyway, I can't remember all of it now, but I know it had zombies, and running from zombies and hiding from zombies and shooting zombies in the head. I pretty badass, if I say so myself. (That's how I knew it was dream.) It ended with us in some type of hospital building, with the remainder of the survivors and feeling as if we were finally safe because there was enough food and water to last a long time.

Or something.

Well, now it's 12:20 am and I'm too wound up to sleep, but not in the mood to write. So what should I do? I'm waffling between watching a few episodes of Supernatural on You Tube or watching V for Vendetta on onDemand. I think I'm going to splurge and go pick up one of the DVR digital boxes. I want to be able to do a season pass for Supernatural and Veronica Mars. Speaking of which, I hope my Veronica Mars season two dvds come tomorrow. I think I'm going to cancel the Supernatural one, it hasn't even shipped yet and tomorrow I can just go to B & N and pick up a copy.

Alright. V for Vendetta won out, because if I buy Supernatural tomorrow, I'd rather watch it on the TV then on the computer.

I'm off to watch Evie and V.


So here's a teaser of my latest SPN fic I'm working on for the GLEEWEEK FIC EXCHANGE:



Strange, how easily she grows used to the screaming.

Sitting in the middle of the white room, she can hear it seeping through the walls, the vibrations echoing all around her as the colors swirl and darkness looms. She pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rocks back and forth, feeling them, their pain, and their madness.

Tobias is louder than the others, and her hands shake as she clasps them to her ears. She wants it to stop, prays it’ll stop, but she has to remember. The smell of brimstone and ash cling to the back of her throat. She’s afraid to close her eyes, afraid of what will come whispering in the dark.



And with that, I will say goodnight.
Tags: rambles
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