Ramblings of a total Zack girl

Placeholding until this can be backed up and deleted

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinally got my computer fixed omg even if it is fucking Windows 8 it has a WORKING KEYBOARD and I have missed talking to all of you SO MUCH.



Hihihi!

Stolen from my beloved arsenicjade:

Please ask me questions about my OTPs in the comments! Any questions! All questions! Deep questions! Silly questions! Ship questions. (It doesn't even really have to be OTPs. Basically, anything you know I have ever shipped.) I will write a drabble-ish length fic/scene that responds to the question.



(Fandoms I have known: Harry Potter, SGA, Supernatural (pre-s5) and Supernatural RPF (ditto), BSC, Big Time Rush, NCIS, Avengers, Bandom, Big Bang Theory, Black Books, Buffy, Community, Demon's Lexicon, Dresden, Eureka, Fringe, Gilmore Girls, Good Wife, Greek, H50 (S1), How I Met Your Mother, Cougartown, Friends, Korman, Leverage, Parks and Rec, Psych, Rizzoli and Isles, Shameless, Vampire Diaries, Veronica Mars, Warehouse 13, West Wing, White Collar, Wodehouse, Bunheads, Downton Abbey, Once Upon a Time...and if there's anything else you can think of I haven't mentioned but you know I watch/read/ship, feel free to ask!!)

Hey, does anybody have any Natasha fic recs? I was putting together a list of Awesome Avengers Ladies fics, some Peggy, a lovely one about Maria-who-became-Maria-Stark, lots of great Darcy, some AMAZING Pepper and...one fic in which Natasha is the central point.

ONE.


That is NOT RIGHT, people, THERE HAS TO BE MORE OUT THERE

Originally posted by missmollyetc at All U.S. Internet Providers will be policing downloads by July 12, 2012


FUCK

Signs you were in Harry Potter fandom too long:

seven years later, you read a Hogwarts AU in another fandom, where the author's note reads "Character does not have fond memories of graduation" and your brain immediately snarls, "THERE IS NO WAY HOGWARTS HAD GRADUATIONS."


(See also: my obsession with canon-correctness. Now that I am trying to write in a COMICS fandom, this is driving me quietly mad)

And the thing is, my hair has needed cutting for MONTHS, but I had a groupon for a place that I cleverly failed to notice is a half-hour drive away from where I ACTUALLY LIVE, so it had to wait until I could get there. I'd never been before, and will never go again--half an HOUR's drive, I am such a moron--but the guy who cut my hair was. Um. Just. Totally whackjob entertaining. In the course of washing, conditioning, cutting, and styling my hair, he told me:

~about the contact high he got at a concert last week that apparently made him crave mass amounts of Mexican food

~about his friend who owns a moving company and who is like, the Best Dad Ever, and taught his budding engineer son how to create a six-tree tree house with pulley-system ziplines between trees and working electricity from cords he made himself out of junk from the hardware store

~about this guy he knows who honestly believes in the zombie apocalypse, and lives in a pseudo-military compound with eleven billion guns and a specially designed military-issue vehicle designed to run on a special kind of fuel. He keeps enough of that fuel ON HAND to drive to Seattle, where he has a boat, which is always kept fueled enough to get him to the island he OWNS off the coast of Seattle. The specially-designed vehicle has a scoop on the front with robot arms that will cut off zombie legs, and all the windows are three inches thick except for the holes at the top where you can stick the guns out to shoot at the zombies

~about the sheriff in the small Montana town where his grandmother lives, who never arrested anybody for underage drinking, just took their keys and made them come pick up their cars at the police station with their parents the next morning. Similarly, the sheriff never troubled a man who had trained his horse to carry his dead-drunk self all the way home from the bar and lock the gate behind it.

~about his second, part-time job being the mascot for the Utah hockey team. I'm trying not to see it as a sign that I really will fall for hockey RPS. I'm...mostly failing.


MOST. BIZARRE. HAIRCUT. EVER.


(Actual HAIRCUT part...eh, okay. I wish I knew why all hairdressers, especially the ones I tell how I want my hair to curl/wave, think I should be flatironed to hell and back. I mean, it really only affects me until I get in the shower, it's no big deal, it's just...why???)

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Not much, this year; my baby sister pounced on a Black Friday deal I was interested in and made me go pick it up, and my parents are doing cash, and there's nobody else much to give me presents. :D (It's okay, it's a low-key year in a lot of ways.) In an ideal world, though, Andrea Gibson CDs, Agatha Christie's autobiography (and her memoirs and her husband's autobiography), the knowledge that my employers will like their Christmas presents (I don't know, not for certain), travel anywhere (but especially Chicago or Canada), and a membership at the Bikram Yoga place. And, as always, since I was fourteen, a pair of


sugargliders.

They're SO CUTE.

Well, the first I heard about it was Sarah tweeting the FB notice that Brendon was ill.

EXCUSE ME, WHAT SHOW IN SALT LAKE? I demanded, and spent an hour trying to force my phone to admit it knew how to have internet so I could confirm it wasn't all some kind of weird practical joke. At that point I saw the malaria update, the Oregon Trail joke (bless you, Spencer Smith) and Zack's call for karaoke-ers. "I know the words," I said to myself, "but it would take an offer to COMPLETELY PAY OFF my student loans before I agreed to try and sing them in front of a thousand people."

A little bit after that, I got a text from the_randomist, who said she had been picked to go on stage. I shuddered at the thought, but hey, if she thought it would be fun, I was happy for her. Then she said that they hadn't been able to find...something...and so the band was having some of the frontpeople from the local bands who'd been playing all day sing a few songs each, which is indeed what wound up happening.


So I, meanwhile, had dashed to the plaza to purchase a ticket, and dashed home for clothes I wouldn't FREEZE TO DEATH in, and dashed back down on the train. I mostly sat on the ground, in the spot that I have learned, during past festivals in this venue, to latch onto and defend like grim death. Unless you get there early enough for actual barrier (which, if I'd KNOWN THEY WERE COMING, I would have, but what can you do?), you have to stand on a slightly-elevated bit of pavement with juuuuuust the right angle to see around the sound engineer's tent; there are only two of these spots. I like Neon Trees, but they were playing on a different stage, and I don't like them enough to lose that spot, so I wasn't really watching the music bits till they got up there.



( ANYWAY, the stuff y'all care about:  )