Pick one (or two). I'll do my best to write Ali in a situation as befits your demands humble requests. Just remember--I get to ask you for as many as you request of me. As seen on lord_it_over.
I tried for over-protective, but it came out more covetous. I'll try again if you want, but I thought this was too funny to not post.
--- Ali sat at the table, hands folded in her lap to keep from betraying her thoughts. She sat with the excellent posture so long drilled into her with a calm and unremarkable smile. It sat on the center of the table, within reach of so many others--so many who could at any moment, Ali knew, claim it for themselves. She wondered if they even realized. What were they planning? Did they think she'd let her guard down; were they waiting for an opportunity? Or did they delay for the same reason she did, to avoid the appearance of greed? Did they think they could bargain?
Maybe...maybe they just needed more milk. But it was all for naught! That last piece of chocolate cake would be hers.
I don't think Gromgard's old enough for that sort of thing. :P (I shall try; I need to think of something I'm willing to write that she'd consider deviant.)
I really don't like writing murderous!Ali, so enjoy it, since you won't be seeing it again for a good long while.
--- Her life had become a place for other people to transform. Some of the people who had passed through had been butterflies, nurtured and sheltered by Ali's fierce love and devotion as they turned themselves inside-out and emerged the better for it. Others were snakes, or metaphorical leopards changing their spots, no better for having known her except perhaps being better at whatever bad things they'd already done so well. Even as she came to realize this, as her awareness expanded from those years within reach to the vast expanse she would ultimately know, Ali found herself powerless to stop it. Perhaps a part of herself didn't want to. Eventually, she didn't even try anymore.
Like the tides under a chaotic moon, time washed over her, slowly burying her in the debris of other people's lives. It was too slow to be called a suicide, but too final to be anything else.
Comments 27
Ohhh. And intoxicated!
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Ali sat at the table, hands folded in her lap to keep from betraying her thoughts. She sat with the excellent posture so long drilled into her with a calm and unremarkable smile. It sat on the center of the table, within reach of so many others--so many who could at any moment, Ali knew, claim it for themselves. She wondered if they even realized. What were they planning? Did they think she'd let her guard down; were they waiting for an opportunity? Or did they delay for the same reason she did, to avoid the appearance of greed? Did they think they could bargain?
Maybe...maybe they just needed more milk. But it was all for naught! That last piece of chocolate cake would be hers.
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Her life had become a place for other people to transform. Some of the people who had passed through had been butterflies, nurtured and sheltered by Ali's fierce love and devotion as they turned themselves inside-out and emerged the better for it. Others were snakes, or metaphorical leopards changing their spots, no better for having known her except perhaps being better at whatever bad things they'd already done so well. Even as she came to realize this, as her awareness expanded from those years within reach to the vast expanse she would ultimately know, Ali found herself powerless to stop it. Perhaps a part of herself didn't want to. Eventually, she didn't even try anymore.
Like the tides under a chaotic moon, time washed over her, slowly burying her in the debris of other people's lives. It was too slow to be called a suicide, but too final to be anything else.
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