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Klia

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In my previous post, I worded my sentences weird. Tyraa, you should post this on fanfiction.net, nfiction, or some other fanfiction site. It will top about 95 percent of the garbage that goes on those things.

 

Here's the layout of how me and Paranoidish are writing the story. We can ony write one page in the notebook we share (so as not to drift off in the plot without the other one knowing. However not much writing gets done either but this is a pretty relaxed thing). Well, it was my turn to write my story. Of course on the week where I had major writer's block that could only be cured by bashing my head into various desks over the course of that week.

 

So this fic is dedicated to all of those desks that supported me the whole way through.

 

Of course... I have to follow up Tyraa which nobody wants to do. But what the hey? We can't all be amazing writers.

 

2

 

For the last time he tucked the weathered note into his pocket. Grumbling, Oleander started up the engine of his old, cramped car, only to have the machine grumble back. He stiffened, eyeing the machine warily. “So that’s how you want to play?” Placing the keys into the ignition, Oleander pushed down harder on the pedal, willing it to start, nothing. With more force, he jammed the keys in the ignition, concentrating more intensely upon it; still nothing. He jammed the keys into the ignition with as much force and energy in him, his face scarlet from the force. And then suddenly the car was moving, inch by inch. Each turn of the wheel was a slight victory.

 

“Ha! As always, I win!” Oleander laughed to himself, basking in the joy of victory and in his mirth, his glorious achievement, he hadn’t realized that another problem was rearing its head, one that would be his downfall.

 

“Out of gas?” He slammed down on the pedal once again but this time there was no response. Doing the only thing he could, he slumped down over the steering wheel and admitted defeat. “I’ll ask the neighbors.”

 

Oleander slid out of the leather seat, the widest smile plastered on his face. It had been one hell of a ride in that powerful, fast, and most importantly big truck

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Those desks should be damn proud.

 

They should. Besides, desk-slamming is fun and entertaining for the whole family.

 

And Klia, this whole section is just so...Morry. He would definitely be one to try and beat a car into submission--only to have it win in the end. XD What can I say? I like it.

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They should. Besides, desk-slamming is fun and entertaining for the whole family.

 

And Klia, this whole section is just so...Morry. He would definitely be one to try and beat a car into submission--only to have it win in the end. XD What can I say? I like it.

 

 

You all make me happy.I was about to throw this away and never let it see the light of day. If only because Oleander does not like to be written about and tries everything in his power to be written terribly.

 

This is my fifth or fourth draft of continuing the story.

 

You don't want to see the others.

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I can't wait to read some more of your writing--you just write so... right. Everything is right. Or something. Hard to describe.

 

Aww. Too much sweetness. I seriously am going to implode and leave sickly sweet kittens in my place.

 

Going back and comparing the two sections, Paranoidish and I have very distinct ways of writing. Similiar but distinct.

 

Alright, I sent her the e-mail that I have the part up. I'll wait for her.

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She unlocked the door and breezed inside

 

Brilliant bloody brilliant. I can really imagine how she came in.

 

I didn't understand the thing about doing your hair until I cut my hair. Then I had to fluff it and play with it every time I got the chance. So I guess it's the opposite for me.

 

Charles is a nice OC. Not a self-insert. But a nice little character you made up. I'd like to see more of him.

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CHOMP. Speaking of fanfiction, it turns out I'm incapable of writing any more of it. I've tried over and over again, with ideas and the will, but I can't seem to get it on paper. It's killing me. So all I can do is read all of the good stuff.

 

That's me. I cannot for the life of me write anything. Sure I wrote a small page of it but I'm struggling so much with my perfectionist inside of me that it's killing me softly..

 

with his words.

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Aww. Too much sweetness. I seriously am going to implode and leave sickly sweet kittens in my place.

 

Going back and comparing the two sections, Paranoidish and I have very distinct ways of writing. Similiar but distinct.

Alright, I sent her the e-mail that I have the part up. I'll wait for her.

 

So...we're similarly different? Is this something like same difference? Its a paradox...my mind,it hurts!

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It's like... same difference. Klia may have thought that phrase up.

 

Because I think about what I am going to say.

 

Really I just wanted to show how something could be so similar yet so different. Subtle differences that really add something different.

 

Forget it.

 

Wait no...it's kind of like so close and yet so far.

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You could've said you invented the phrase and charged 20 cents every time someone says it.

 

Klia- So brilliant! Same. Difference.

Person- Well, Dexter is cooler than Jimmy.

Person- Same difference.

Klia- *BAMF* Thank you! *BAMF*

 

Suddenly you're Nightcrawler.

 

I actually had some dream about that power some time back. It made me laugh so hard but I can't remember at all.

 

Dude I would be so rich.

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