things (if you're into it)

***** Am broken by fic. Not just blocked, like, cockblocked by fic. Irony as fic features women. Shame. Because it's due today, motherfucker.

Awesome that I can't write for shit. Really helpful. Don't have any other ficathon deadlines popping up or anything, nooooo.

***** I can't stop watching this. Someone must rip this into an mp3 so I can put it on my iPod.

Or keep me from clicking the song to start up everytime it ends so I can start it up again.

If you want me to, I will take off all my clothes for you
I'll take off all my clothes for you, if that's what you're into

***** Cooking makes me feel better except when I get major shoulder strain and it is very not fun. Made zucchini fritters for a BBQ at a coworker's house, they came out well and it looks like I'll have some leftover by the time The Cuppy and my Mom come home later tonight. I also made panninis of joy and hung a bit with Sister K and her boyfriend.

***** Why can't I write good stuff? Why must I suck? Boo-urns.

How 'bout him, in the nude, if that's what you're into, in the nude in front of you, is that what you want to view?

Flight of the Conchords is love. And has canon slash and threesome offerings. Godbless.

because I am writing that damn Buffy/Faith fic as I am dying

Fic Snippet time, if only to force myself to make this not suck.

It'll be called Mercury Girls and it's another story set in Florida. I am on a Florida kick for some reason.


*


Faith worries her bottom lip, bruise shadowing the outside, looking like a girl who'd just gotten into her mother's makeup and smeared purplish lipstick all over her mouth. Or maybe it's thanks to overripe fruit, hastily swallowed when they'd made a quick stop off the Interstate, backtracking their way, believing that things could've been different.

"She knew the risks," Buffy says, working the ash in her mouth.

A hand going up, nails filed down, the fun polish of blackberries dotted with reckless lime spots has been stripped off. Before it stays too long in the air, that old agression that they knew so well, Faith curls her fingers in Buffy's hair, whisper of callused knuckles at the shell of her ear.

"The hell she did."

Buffy hadn't met Mr. Wall with her face, like Faith had, but it feels like it, Faith's bruises become her own when the kiss almost stamps out Faith's rage. It's screaming this, opening hollow spaces that Buffy's yanked open, forced Faith to understand that their line of work is always about these kinds of sacrifices. Collateral damage.


*


*continues to stab at the fic*