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fakeTRex

@faketrex / faketrex.tumblr.com

certainly not a T-Rex /// ao3 @faketrex

SUNDAY LAST LINE SOMEWHAT

Time has been escaping me recently. I object! It doesn't help. Regardless, this little story still has a posting deadline, sooooooo good luck with that, me.

Thank you kindly for the recent Sunday and Wednesday and word game and sentence tags, @alasse9 @luainthewild @cha-melodius @porcelainmortal @anincompletelist @eusuntgratie @onthewaytosomewhere and @caterpills, I love reading your words!

Here is my contribution today: one sentence, the last one I wrote this morning.

...

The fact of the matter is that there's no limit to Henry's Alex-related storage space in his brain; Henry will always want to know the details of the story, because Henry will always want to know the details of Alex.

...

And now I'm going right back to it!

(tags under the cut)

Ten Opening Lines

A new-to-me tag game, and I was tagged by the illustrious @cha-melodius! Thanks, Sara.

I can't believe I actually have enough stories posted that I have ten opening lines to share, but here we are. Delightful!

Rules: list the first line of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any.

They've been married for three weeks when Alex suggests a late-night jaunt into the city.

“It's called a Whiskey Before Breakfast,” the barista says as Henry watches him pour the steamed milk into a green ceramic cup.

If Alex is lucky, one day he'll get to marry Henry.

“SPIT TEQUILA IN MY MOUTH,” the shirt says in all caps, black letters in an ugly font on a white background, shitty plasticky printing from an online store that shall remain nameless.

“You can't punch him, you're a prince of fucking England,” Alex hisses.

If Henry had been thinking ahead, he might not have adopted a puppy immediately before fleeing the country for a week.

Just because the banging on the door – the banging that wakes him from the first sleep he's gotten in more than twenty-four hours – isn't a surprise, that doesn't mean that Alex fucking enjoys it.

"He's not a fucking b-lister, he's an independent."

Henry learns how to pump gas at a truck stop outside Billings, Montana, well after sunset.

Alex covers his face with his hands as soon as he's sure – like, absolutely fucking sure, T-minus two seconds to impact – that it's going to happen.

And a bonus eleventh because Sara did it and I want to, too:

“–he'll need to rinse with the salt water solution after every meal. All of the post-procedure instructions are included in the packet.”

Patterns: I love writing opening sentences; an opening line is often one of my favorite lines in the story. Looking at these all at once, I'm surprised to see that they all set up a major plot point or the central theme in the story! I suppose I'm telling readers what they're about to get into, in a way, even if they don't realize it yet. If anyone reads any other patterns in these, I'm all ears.

A few picked-out-of-a-hat tags under the cut (and an open tag!)

Some Sentences Sunday

Thank you @onthewaytosomewhere and @cha-melodius for the recent tags 💝

Here's a bit of sweetness in the form of a few cheerful sentences for your Sunday, or your Monday, or whenever it may happen to be, today.

...

The song that cues up when they're pulling away from their refreshment stop – "HRH Prince Henry slums it and uses public restrooms!" "HRH Prince Henry isn't inclined to piss in a bottle and chuck it out a window on the M4, thanks." – has brassy trumpets and bouncy percussion. The vocals are in Spanish. Alex's knee bounces to the beat, but it's not his typical anxious bounce; it's like he'd rather be dancing than sitting.
"I've heard this one before," Henry offers, ready to hear Alex's explanation of why he had picked it for the playlist.
"Yeah, it's everywhere right now. The album was number one worldwide a few weeks ago."
"I meant that it's been on a few times while you've been cooking dinner."
"Stop it," Alex protests, "that's too sweet. You know the rule: you're not allowed to be sweet to me while you're driving."
"Perhaps I've forgotten the rule."
"Likely story," Alex counters, even as he reaches over and folds his right hand over Henry's left on the gearshift. "No sweetness unless we're at a full stop and the car is in park."

...

(A few tags under the cut.)

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