So I'm Anal
If you have ever noticed my delicious.com tagging system for my webpage, you might notice it gets complex when I'm stupid enough to login there and like, decide to change a tag and end up adding fifty more. It--happens. *waves hand* Anyway. Notable to me are the thematic similarities; there are certain ideas I return to pretty consistently fandom by fandom, or hell, in the same pairing if I hit thirty or more stories. No, not just rain, though yes, I do have a thing for getting everyone wet and naked, and it's not like I'm stopping that anytime soon. But, okay, they're there, and it's kind of cool, but the oddest ones, to me, are the ones I never go back to and do again, even if I love them or they hit my kinks. That's because of a little known codicil to the Law of Squicks--a certain combination of squicks applied to a certain pairing in certain conditions becomes a bulletproof Uberkink that I will crawl across the desert to read or write. And it's weird and uncomfortable and hideously attractive and that is why it works for me. And I'm not sure kink even applies to the concpet, really--maybe the UberNonSquickAwesomeness.
No, I don't mean typevoring necrophiliac skullfucking here as a cross-species of kink mastery (And look at those words together; that's just beautiful)--it's just, sometimes, things I hate can be combined into things I kill for, and while talking to shinetheway the other night, I was thinking about the fact my Uberkink I've written exactly once, because it's difficult to write without squicking myself in the process of writing. I've talked about freezing when I'm writing, and this is one of those times, and it has to be written fast, because when I sit down and look at it in components, I seriously cannot even edit it unless I can do it in whole and I continuously edit while writing.
This has nothing to do with anything but the fact I went back today to not-look at MSWord and edit something I'm working on and realized it's like, a two-third of my Uber, which means I'm squicked once I get past page ten. So suffice to say, I need alcohol to finish.
(It's not even a real Uber. It's like, an Uberlite. I haven't been able to recreate the exact conditions of pulling Uber off since Smallville, but it probably helped that thete1 was prodding me, and for her, yeah, typevoring necrophiliac skullfucking would have been on the table. My hero worship issues are ongoing and plentiful; astolat looks hopeful and I end up with twenty-one--twenty one pieces of commentfic without any clear idea of wtf just happened. With potentially twenty-one more to go, which--hey, what is the commentfic record? I can try to break it. Why not?)
I feel like such a delicate flower right now. Oh, my creativity is trying to cut its throat under the desk in a fit of moral indignation! What shall I do?
preromantics, if you see this, would you IM me? My LJ IM is--being weird today and won't let me send or something, or maybe it sent and just didn't record, or maybe I hallucinated it, who knows? I need a very small, and by that I mean I will lie because I'm desperate, favor. If you have time to look at something for me.
It has been one of those weeks. Seriously, that I'm using polysyllabic words here is a small but intensely surprising miracle.
ETA: Okay, WTF Seagate? Are you too good for my computer? YOU EXIST STOP SAYING YOU CANNOT BE FOUND. I DO NOT CARE OF SEATOOLS HAS ISSUES. I am never going to get this cloned.