When you're done, I offer you the finest muffins and bagels in all the land. And possibly Dean Winchester to bring them to you on a silver platter. You know, if the jerk would ever answer my calls.
Take a breath, do a headstand against the wall for new perspective, and get to it, lady. Remember, it's just words. *G*
HOMG, I just clicked on Chappy Nine of Blind Spot to see which chappy that was and YES. Oh dear GOD, that chappy nearly killed me.
WTF? And weirdly? For much the same basic reasons this one is killing me, too. Huh.
BUT. I just got the first half of this bitch pretty much approaching beta-ready. Which means I have my head straight enough now to tackle the second half with some sort of CLUE.
*\o/* But ye gods, I has to give up and go to bed now. My eyelids feel like sandpaper that has been rubbed in hot peppers.
And it should be "match," not "math," because "math" just makes it weird, you're right. "Every time I lose a wrestling match, I get a funny feeling that I won."
When Show is being a bad, bad Show, it's best to just shove it over into a corner and throw a tarp over it. Otherwise it turns your brain into that tar-like stuff that's in the bottom of the coffeepot when you forget to turn the burner off.
We are here with pie and encouragement. Words can gel together a little at a time. Although it makes me a little sad about the overall state of ficcing hereabouts. Talented, thinky people are having a lot of trouble with their chappies. Keeps me busy running around sending out good vibes, because I don't want certain ones of y'all to follow Big Pink off into "Don't write no SPN no mo'" land. :(
dragons - I NEED the next chappie of the Lee...I'm stuck at home with an foot infection, a sore throat and cramps - my life suks today...the only thing that might make me feel better is knowing that you whump the living poo out of Dean - way worse than I could feel. Help me obi-wan-dragons, you're my only hope.
WTF? Foot infection? How do you get a FOOT infection? *is afeared*
You're prolly not gonna get the chappy in time to solve any of those ills, but let's just say Dean would prolly be more comfortable sipping margaritas in Ibiza than here. *points to middle of chappy nine*
That is exactly what I asked when said Dr pointed out "well, it's an infection." I though it was poison ivy, even though I couldn't figure out how I got that on my foot during fall in new england - not really a sandal-wearing season, y'know. To be honest, my sore throat hurts way worse than the foot - so somehow, that's got to be good news?? right? Goes to re-read more Dean whumpage...
Maybe if you wait until you've seen the next ep, you might forget all about last week's and be able to remember why you DO want to watch/write/speak SPN!
You know what? I got fucking spoiled yesterday about this epi. Which...*kicks things* I'm pretty pissed off about that. And spoiled in a massive, annoying way that was only half my fault.
I'm withholding anticipatory glee. If I know Kripke, he'll find a way to make everything good about that concept mediocre. *birds him*
But let's not discuss that any further, in case my spoilerphobe flisties are eavesdropping. *is kind to the spoilerphobes*
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Take a breath, do a headstand against the wall for new perspective, and get to it, lady. Remember, it's just words. *G*
Happy writing!
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This is going to be my personal motto henceforth, until this chapter is done.
*\o/* Never were truer words spoken. Thank you for that.
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Didn't chappy Nine of Blind Spot also give you nightmares? Maybe you should just skip it, and go right to Ten. *nods*
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WTF? And weirdly? For much the same basic reasons this one is killing me, too. Huh.
BUT. I just got the first half of this bitch pretty much approaching beta-ready. Which means I have my head straight enough now to tackle the second half with some sort of CLUE.
*\o/* But ye gods, I has to give up and go to bed now. My eyelids feel like sandpaper that has been rubbed in hot peppers.
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*snert*
Okay, yes comment.
Other girls are coy and hard to catch,
But other girls aint havin any fun.
Every time i lose a wrestling math
I have a funny feeling that i won!
I'll just keep Dean company over here while you . . . right . . .
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Stop quoting weird shit at me and snerting. I is so straight me not tired think.
*hides under doona*
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Ado Annie, from Oklahoma! "Cain't Say No."
And it should be "match," not "math," because "math" just makes it weird, you're right. "Every time I lose a wrestling match, I get a funny feeling that I won."
*turns off light, tiptoes from room*
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What?
When Show is being a bad, bad Show, it's best to just shove it over into a corner and throw a tarp over it. Otherwise it turns your brain into that tar-like stuff that's in the bottom of the coffeepot when you forget to turn the burner off.
We are here with pie and encouragement. Words can gel together a little at a time. Although it makes me a little sad about the overall state of ficcing hereabouts. Talented, thinky people are having a lot of trouble with their chappies. Keeps me busy running around sending out good vibes, because I don't want certain ones of y'all to follow Big Pink off into "Don't write no SPN no mo'" land. :(
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You're prolly not gonna get the chappy in time to solve any of those ills, but let's just say Dean would prolly be more comfortable sipping margaritas in Ibiza than here. *points to middle of chappy nine*
Does that make you happy in your happy place?
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I'm withholding anticipatory glee. If I know Kripke, he'll find a way to make everything good about that concept mediocre. *birds him*
But let's not discuss that any further, in case my spoilerphobe flisties are eavesdropping. *is kind to the spoilerphobes*
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