a word(s)? hand(s) and bitch
From a grad school universe update:
“’Kay. Whatever.” Regina goes to unbutton the jeans she’s wearing when Cady’s hand suddenly shoots out and grabs her by the wrist. Regina glances down, eyebrows flying up her forehead. “Uh,” she snorts out a laugh. “Can I help you?”
“Because this is my gay fantasy and in it you're being quiet for once.”
Regina's mouth falls open, but a laugh bubbles out. “Oh my God. Bitch.”
From some angst I'm writing :/
Cady does not look good. She clearly didn’t sleep. Her eyes are dim and dull, watery and red-rimmed, dark circles puffy underneath. She’s sitting at her desk, chin in her hand, fingers just barely peeking out from the bunched up sleeve of her Yale sweatshirt as her eyes flicker to the camera and away again.
She left me, Regina thinks. She left me, stormed out the door and didn’t look back. Six years and now a week of radio silence and Regina could laugh if her throat weren’t so thick. Cady Heron was always a cold-hearted bitch; Regina knew it back then but she got complacent and let herself forget.
From the sequel to [redacted]
And, to top it off, there’s Cady in the flesh at last, slowly coming down the sidewalk, distracted as she stares at her phone, one hand gripping her backpack strap in that infuriatingly adorable way she does. Nerd.
From the Cadina/Shamian thing
Shane’s eyes widen and Cady turns bright red before lowering her hand back to the table. “Um, sorry. That was really inappropriate. I don’t know why I did that.”
From the leatin thing (there's no bitch so i included 2 hands because I can)
“I can’t believe my life is going to end on a second fucking deserted island,” Toni had raged, stomping up and down the halls, turning every room over like it might have answers, as if Leah hadn’t already tirelessly done that the first three days they’d been there, hands and knees dragging across the ground, fingers scrabbling in corners, knuckled and bloody until Fatin, her heart wrenching, pulled her up and demanded she take a break.
It could be the same if everything weren’t so different, so loud, so fucked to shit. Leah was right; Fatin’s world ended at this table and it’s ending again now, except she can’t see it enough to conceptualize it – just a fragment of despair in her shaky hands – but she feels it in the tightening of her chest and in the pit of her stomach. And it’s not difficult, not anymore, to see why Leah might grasp onto a feeling with two clenched fists and hold tight.
Send me a word, any word, and if it’s in my WIP document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence or line it appears in.
