The Right Amount of DIHC (1/8)
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack Donaghy/Liz Lemon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eight drabbles - the first four are examples of Liz's Drive, Intelligence, Humility, and Chaos, and the last four are about Jack and Liz's mentor/mentee relationship.
1. Drive
She reaches one hand up the back of her shirt to unclasp her bra and wriggles out of its straps, extracting its lifeless body from the inside of her left sleeve before collapsing onto the sofa: her first successful attempt at anything all week. Her new roommate's snores are the soundtrack to this pathetic scene. The flaps of the opened cardboard boxes scattered across the living room floor quiver, as though they are intimidated by the fighter jet intensity of Gloria's sleep apnea.
So this is Chicago.
Liz frowns, concentrating.
In college, things were simpler because the pool was smaller. Being the worst at something in a group of forty-two people is fine because it means there are only forty-one people who are better than you - it's easier to move up in the world, to go from playing Dead Body #3 to Rolf. Being the worst at something in an entire city filled to the brim with your competitors, with hundreds (if not thousands) of actresses and writers and comediennes, is more difficult. There's a bell curve. If you're not on top, you're either falling on your face or on your ass.
Through the window, streetlamps begin to turn on, beams of light skittering around like popping corn kernels. She watches as the clear, confident blue of the afternoon sky fades into a hazy purple, and wonders if that's how failure happens: a subtle, sluggish transition that might be totally imperceptible if the process didn't have a name.
But, she thinks, if the sun can come back from all that darkness and resurrect itself every morning, I guess I can, too.
Pairing: Jack Donaghy/Liz Lemon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eight drabbles - the first four are examples of Liz's Drive, Intelligence, Humility, and Chaos, and the last four are about Jack and Liz's mentor/mentee relationship.
1. Drive
She reaches one hand up the back of her shirt to unclasp her bra and wriggles out of its straps, extracting its lifeless body from the inside of her left sleeve before collapsing onto the sofa: her first successful attempt at anything all week. Her new roommate's snores are the soundtrack to this pathetic scene. The flaps of the opened cardboard boxes scattered across the living room floor quiver, as though they are intimidated by the fighter jet intensity of Gloria's sleep apnea.
So this is Chicago.
Liz frowns, concentrating.
In college, things were simpler because the pool was smaller. Being the worst at something in a group of forty-two people is fine because it means there are only forty-one people who are better than you - it's easier to move up in the world, to go from playing Dead Body #3 to Rolf. Being the worst at something in an entire city filled to the brim with your competitors, with hundreds (if not thousands) of actresses and writers and comediennes, is more difficult. There's a bell curve. If you're not on top, you're either falling on your face or on your ass.
Through the window, streetlamps begin to turn on, beams of light skittering around like popping corn kernels. She watches as the clear, confident blue of the afternoon sky fades into a hazy purple, and wonders if that's how failure happens: a subtle, sluggish transition that might be totally imperceptible if the process didn't have a name.
But, she thinks, if the sun can come back from all that darkness and resurrect itself every morning, I guess I can, too.