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*slinks in*

Hiiiii.

Not dead, if anyone wondered. I was sick, prompting wallowing and avoidance of the internet and also people and life and the eating of many unhealthy foodstuffs, but I got better (in spite of my pathetic self-pity).

So, yeah.

*shuffles awkwardly*

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Bah.

Yeeesh. People on Tumblr are freakin' vicious. Good lord.

Also, hi LJ. I'm not quite dead yet.

The foodocalypse

Player 2 has moved back into the flat, and went grocery shopping, despite my saying 'hey dude, eat my food, I have lots.' He laughed. I didn't know why. Now I do. I did not have lots of food. NOW we have lots of food.

I truly had no concept of how much a professional rugby player eats.

It's.... mind blowing. I can't even wrap my head around it. 3 dozen eggs. 3 DOZEN. FOR A WEEK. WHAT EVEN. I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MUCH PASTA IN MY LIFE. HOW WILL THAT EVEN FIT INSIDE YOUR BODY. HOW DID YOU FEED YOURSELF BEFORE - WHEN I MOVED IN YOU HAD 1 FRYING PAN AND A COLANDER.

I'll just go back to staring in wonder and horror at my pantry and fridge now.

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Spacefic

SPACEFIC WHY DO YOU KILL ME/CONSUME MY LIIIIIIIIIIIFE???

21K and they've just stopped hating each other. NOT EVEN CLOSE to sexy fun time. Between, you know, a human and a spaceship. Oh god, my life.

21K and I feel like it's either REALLY TERRIBLE NO ONE SHOULD READ IT EVER AND I SHOULD JUST GO CRAWL IN A CORNER or it's okay-ish. I DON'T KNOW WHICH.

21K and BOTH MY BETAS JUST KIND OF DISAPPEARED WEEKS AGO SO I HAVE NO ONE TO RANT TO AND MAKE ME SANE AGAIN AND REASSURE ME THAT IT'S EITHER A) NOT A STEAMING PILE OF CRAP OR B) GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS ON WHAT TO DO TO MAKE IT NO LONGER A STEAMING PILE OF CRAP.

21K and I have to write at least another 5 by the end of the day.

21K and I kind of don't even know what the ending will be. Like I have ideas but these things never coalesce for me until the actual writing and it's due TODAY with at least summaries for missing scenes and I don't knooooow.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIL

/DEAD

ETA: also HOW TO SUMMARY?!?! waaaaaah. Meltdown, I say.

What even. The return.

I accidentally philosophy. All over my Avengers In Space fic.

It's not going to stop either.

There is also Godwin's Law happening. Kind of. But, it's, um, okay? Because Steve actually fought Nazis? Right?

It's times like this I question my life and life choices.
For hollycomb / formerdinosaur. Hope this satisfies the craving a little.
Rating: T for language
Gen/Pre-slash Stan/Kyle

Summary: It's been ten years and a thousand moments since Stan has seen it, but he'd recognise that Jew-Fro anywhere.

If you stay right here tomorrow (you'll be fine)Collapse )

So guyyyyyys......

Say, anyone wanna beta some spacefic? You know you cannot resist! The doc is literally named 'Avengers in SPACE!' C'mon, you know you wanna.

.... anyone?

In other news, South Park fic. I'm having withdrawals. Taking requests.

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What even.

Suddenly, Space-fic!

I blame Firefly and this line: "My sister's a ship. We had a complicated childhood."

Which of course my brain has turned into: "Tony's a ship Howard built to find Steve. They have a complicated relationship."

I don't even know right now. There's 3K already and oh my god I am a terrible person. How I am going to write human/space-ship romance is beyond me currently. The porn will be terrible.

Also, Teen Wolf. I have been watching. I have been enjoying. Tumblr didn't lie: Stiles is indeed the best thing ever in the history of things. Also Scott is annoying and Allison's actress is TERRIBLE. CRIIIIIINGE. But very pretty. They're all very pretty. Lydia needs to run everything and be the HBIC of all the things. Derek needs to learn to blink and possibly use doors.

WOOOOOOOT

So, a week ago I decided, hey, I think I should move. So I look around and oh yeah, most expensive city in the country, WOOPS, oh god rent is SO HIGH I will be eighty before I can afford it, I should just move countries it would be cheaper, good god, *drown sorrows in wine*.

Then, at 4pm, call from mother: "Friend knows someone, we're meeting them at 4:30." Them: Rugby players with stupidly high salary are going back to Sydney for the off season, and need to sublet their place. One left today, one leaving tomorrow, kinda desperate, will take HALF what they pay in rent.

Me: I'LL TAKE IT YES PLEASE.

SUBLET ON THE FUCKING BEACH. IN MY BUDGET. I CAN WATCH THE SUNSET FROM BED, GUYS. FROM MY MOTHERFUCKING BED.

TODAY IS THE BEST DAY IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

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Brain. Why, brain? Brain, why?

So writing right now is like trying to pull off my own fingernails with my teeth. Only more painful. And with less productive results.

Maybe it's because I have no uni right now? So it's not procrastinating? But that's NOT A GOOD ENOUGH REASON because I have a big bang I'm way behind on and a prompt fill that I need to finish asap and then more things in my mind to exorcise that I'm not letting out till the others are fucking done.

IDK. I hate you, brain. JUST LET ME WRITE GODDAMNIT. Stuff that isn't so terrible I shriek in horror and consign it to the depths of the harddrive when I reread it.

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