esp with the long posties and high wordcounts! keep it up! *checks word counter* Uhm... the thing is, y'all wrote 136,061 words for me to catch up on, soooooo I'mma have to split my comments into a few posts over a few days XD Anyhow, yep, I'm in awe whenever I see you guys posting in the ship log thread. Keep up the great work!! I'm just some guy."
"I'll happily trade you those in return for a heat wave," Shane said sincerely. "If you'd like a drought, too, take some, we've got no shortage of those."
"Thank you. I look forward to it," Shane said, with such a sincere tone that he felt disguested at himself.
Shane nearly said bye. But that might've been weird. So he went back to his food, which he'd been largely neglecting. At least it was tasty.
"The back door and restroom door make different sounds."
Over the buzz of post-party excitement, Caspar could identify everyone's individual gaits. In descending order, Kirk's, Miss Hellen's, and Carter Haddon's steps were always heaviest. Which coincided with, their voices tended to also be the loudest, usually in that same order. Caspar found that consistency amusing more than anything.
Caspar was hit instantly by a wave of heat, and thus regret. This was fine.
Caspar himself was never much of a talker. Yet lately, he'd found himself initiating all sorts of discussions far more than he had in his own years of service. Especially whenever it was just him and Tiberius.
Caspar didn't mind it, though.
No matter how many times Shane had urged Shrimp not to, the cat was always insistent on trying to drink from Shane's coffee.
the Three Seasons Tavern?
I don't want to be historically famous-- I think that comes with too much baggage, in my opinion-- but I would like to realize it in the moment if I would be that unfortunate."
Kirk laughed in agreement, but then lifted up his glass with a sigh.
"Here's to none of us being in that situation," he said. "Hopefully."
Nye's full of so many... plants, rocks, everything... and possibility's wound in every little thing. We haven't even fully explored what everything can do."
"Oh yes," Kirk replied with sarcasm. "Just the occasional splash of water to remind you you're still human. Sometimes even a sprinkle will do."
But laughter sounded suspiciously like crying if you couldn't see someone's face.
The day that everyone talked about like he was a hero out a storybook, when he was just a man. A man who wanted to go home. A man who knew he couldn't anymore.
Finally, someone else agreed that his victory wasn't something to be celebrated.
could he really be considered a master navigator if he always relied on his nose, rather than the actual geography of the city?
It's a personal memorable event shared between two lovers, as proposals should be."
Again, the universe had impeccable timing, as far as tormenting Hild went.
The bird and Cyrin shared a few long seconds of direct eye contact.
"Doesn't sound like a name to me," they hissed, trying not to sound as panicked as they felt.
"Wait, wait," the man continued to groan, laying limp and squinting up at the sky. "Just give me a second. I think I'm seeing stars."
If it wasn't so important that they needed to keep pinning the man down, Cyrin would've thrown their arms up in frustration. "That's the damn sky!"
"Huh." The man breathed out a sigh of relief. "Wow, you're right. Thank gods. I'm not concussed."
"In my head, you're my other bird watching buddy who pushed me off a tree."
"Now I know why my back hurts. I can finally say I've smashed an apple with my back.
There was a chorus of, "Uncle Bo!" as all the Ashlund children dogpiled him.
He'd used a shell to frame it. He picked the shell up off the Isles from the beach he knew Astrid grew up near.
"Let the man cook!"
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