You know what I mean. You're reading along, and okay, it's not the fandom's answer to Watership Down or anything, and sure, there's a tone to it that makes you kind of wonder, but then it *hits* you and you--twitch. The Twitch has many different manifestations--some people whimper and some people lunge for the spork and some people, say
But yeah. You give me John armed and killing things, unfortunately, it could be frottage with Dumbledore and a mysterious squid from the depths of Atlantis and I'm just--in the so wrong place, because I know it will haunt me later. I *know that*. But I. Can't. Stop.
The Bullet-Proof kink is a dangerous thing indeed. Which is why I'm currently having problems controlling motor function after--well. Never mind. Suffice to say, I am totally on wavelength with Rodney and disgust myself, but I saved it and I'll go back to it, and read it, and hate myself so much.
One day, I keep meaning to write down my bulletproof squicks--the squicks that can make me stop reading *anything*, and I mean, seriously, it *could* be fandom's answer to Watership Down and I'll *still* stop and spend quality time resenting the hell out of the author in a completely irrational, totally ridiculous, and utterly annoying way, for about seven minutes, which is as long as I can focus on anything outside my current hair color.
Speaking of that, blonde is still on the table. I--just--feel like this is one of those human experiences I should have, you know? Like paying taxes and recieving bad penis enlargement spam.
WIP amnesty. I just--can't quite make myself give up on anything yet, even the one that I have cut up so much it looks like a patchwork quilt.
*sighs*
*sends
Oh! OH.
Two new Sheppard icons! God, I added them and drooled over them and completely forgot.
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Seriously. I stare at these far, far too much.