November 16th, 2004

brad sex

ds Fic: You & I Are ____ (Rayk/Fraser)

Title: You & I Are ___
This is a Pearlra/Nif-O Joint. (Translation: it's by me and pearl_o)
Summary: Words fail.
Pairing: Rayk/Fraser
Post COTW.
Rating: Very NC-17. (Pearl-O and I shouldn't be unsupervised. It just ends up too slutty.)

A/N: Thanks to lyra_sena for being an amazing beta and putting up with more nonsense than usual. Also, I want to just say that pearl_o is a rock star, y'all. This girl is fuckin' amazing. She's patient with even the most crazy of co-writers, and funny and great and I'm getting ferclempt, I really am. Talk amongst yourselves.

Or, better yet, read the fic either here or

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  • Current Music
    Private Dancer - Tina Turner
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If I was beautiful like you

Somedays you just have to own the fact that you are, in fact, a total loser unfit for any kind of real responsibility whatsoever. You have to sleep through your class, wake up and realize that you still haven't written that one paper (despite the fact that you've written five million others!) and it definitely needed to be written years and years and years ago. And you don't have enough time, if you're going to actually hand it in when you're supposed to.

So then you have to own the fact that your schemes make Lucy Ricardo's look feasible (you contemplate setting something on fire in your room so as to make the firemarshals come out to your house and then decide the fall out from having the sprinklers turn on is just too much even if this plan does carry the potential upside of sexy firefighters come to put out your shoe fire, and so then you start trying to figure out if motor vehicle related problems are still passable excuses), but at the same time, what choice do you have? None. Not a one. So you just scheme and scheme and plan not to go to class, and then use that as a reason (a bad one) to go ahead and procrastinate *more* because you resent the fact that one late paper is still important after all that other work that's been killing you for weeks.

And yet, somehow, it is.

*sighs heavily* Whatever, man. Two tears in a bucket, motherfuckit. November is a syphalitic whore.
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    hey pretty-Poe-Haunted
sinner ioan

I may be an alien.

Okay, so here's the thing: I take everything at face value. I mean, I really do. This doesn't make me naive, but it also means that I'm just not suspicious. If someone says something to me, I don't try to think of what it really means. I more or less just accept it, and go on with my life.

Because that's how I operate. I say what I mean, like 95 times out 100. Sometimes I couch it in as diplomatic terms as possible, but I always feel weird about that and then end up blurting out my raw opinion like so much word vomit.

I figure that if people want to talk to me, they'll talk to me, and that if they don't they won't. And that's cool, that's the way things should work. What you see is what you get. That's more or less just my assumption about the world more often than not.

And so if you're new to this journal, or if you've been here for a while, let me tell you: this is what you get. I am just this giddy and crazy and cracked out and stressed and weird.

I also want to apologize if I've ever been weird or dismissive to anyone -- or if you've felt that I have been. Because it's really not meant that way. It's *truly* not. I am just -- you know. Easily distracted, crazy, the like. But I'm also really straightforward, and I try to be as honest as I can be. Or, I feel like I do.

Also, there's nothing that's prompted this. I've just been thinking for a while, and I feel weirdly like my personality is kind of oddly unsuited for LJ and AIM and that kind of thing. I am a dish best served in person. But, yes -- I just wanted to say that. So, you know. Your PSA is over, back to your regularly scheduled whatevers.
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    My Beautiful Defence-Thea Gilmore