This meme looked like fun, so, meme! And then I'll go back to writing AUs and... IDK, other stuff. Feel free to ask questions or w/e. Also, I'm thinking about creating a tumblr for this writing journal, but then, what would I do with it. Help?
one. There's something wrong, and Clint knows it the moment he wakes up.
two. "They'll kill us for this," Portia says quietly.
three. "You can't skip out on your own afterparty."
four. They say that there are Things in the Forest.
five. Clyde half-heartedly listens to his teacher lecturing them on the history of people with so-called ‘superhuman’ abilities while doodling in the margin of his textbook.
six. The meeting place is a pub: reasonably quiet, shrouded in cigarette smoke, smelling of cheap beer and men and something like despair.
seven. “Having fun?” Johanna’s hips are tilted, half tease, half dare, and false hair tumbles over her right shoulder, curled and waved and pinned into place with golden butterflies.
eight. Amy wears a binliner for Glastonbury, mud splashed over the top of her pink wellies and up the back of her bare legs.
nine. They say that, towards the end, Lord Howard Stark became incredibly... strange.
ten. “Cosmo says you’ll find it sexy if I spank you with a hairbrush,” Morgana muses, turning a page.
eleven. The thing about living forever isn’t the price; it’s the fact that ‘forever’ is, you know, forever.
twelve. After his interview, MI6 asked him to hack into their systems.
thirteen. The problem with Q branch is that, well, you’ve taken a lot of very intelligent people and then shut them up in a basement together with a working coffee machine.
fourteen. Being Iron Man’s PA is both better and worse than being Tony Stark’s PA, in that people like Iron Man more than they like Tony Stark but, on the other hand, there are even more – and somehow, even bigger – explosions to try and explain away with that confident smile Pepper practices in the bathroom mirror in the mornings, while Jarvis judges it on a scale of sincerity.
fifteen. “And then you want to add the melted butter, just a little bit at a time,” a woman is saying on the TV, as Tom shucks off his coat and dumps his bag next to the bar.
sixteen. It’s a dull Thursday afternoon: Oswin’s scalded her wrist making lattes, her hair isn’t doing anything particularly flattering, and it is, of course, pissing with rain.
seventeen. "This means I get to steal the hotel dressing gown, right?" Karen says, when the world explodes around them.
eighteen. Thursdays, well, the thing about Thursdays without drugs is that they're Thursdays, cold milk, colder tea, empty fridge, no clean laundry, dripping tap, and Joan's murmur of well, this just got mental when she finds out how he's been spending the night.
nineteen. When Joan walks into the brownstone, she nearly garrottes herself on a skein of yarn strung across the hall.
twenty. The Lothbroks are the only family where Athelstan leaves after a night of babysitting with bruises.
twenty-one. “Q,” Bond says urgently, gun crackling in his hands, “Q, I’m running out of ammunition here.”