Sep. 27th, 2004

hrm...

Sep. 27th, 2004 12:02 am
lyssie: (Buffy last straw)
This inspector is an idiot.

*sad* I hit the nc17 list earlier this night. Someone's already written briefing room table smut between Sam and Jack (and it's close enough to what I've been writing to, well... *sigh*). So. My smut is now tabled for now (furniture puns aside).

Now, if I could just finish something longer than a thousand words....

omifg!

Sep. 27th, 2004 04:38 pm
lyssie: (Cally Smash)
Lemme say that again. Oh my fucking GOD Thank you. Pat, the previous temp was a dumbshit. I am SO sick of finding her crap mistakes.

*shrieks*

She corrected a comment card. Instead of it saying (as the customer wrote it) "You're doing fine!" it now says "Your doing fine."

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuugggggh.

urge to kill so risen.
lyssie: (Sam not good at nice)
and bored.

And going home from work my god in five minutes.

randomsgwunspam

I wouldn't be here.

Sunlight. Children laughing and shrieking and playing. She turns and he's there, but he's not there. He looks younger, here. As if he's had years washed away.

A little girl comes dashing up to him. "Daddy!"

"Heya, kiddo." He picks her up and swings her around. "How are ya?"

"You're here!" The shriek ends in a giggle as he swings her around some more.

"Jack." The woman's voice is reproving.

She doesn't want to look at this woman, because she knows who she is. And who she isn't.

"Aw, c'mon, Sara, you know she loves it."

"Mama!" The little girl squeals as the man swings her upside down again. "Look, I'm flying!"

Sara O'Neill looks younger, of course. Everything looks younger on a day like today. Soft sunlight, warm breezes, laughing children. And Sara O'Neill, blonde, slim and proud. Gone was the wariness and pain and sadness that Sam had seen for that brief moment in the hospital. Even her hair gleams.

It's like looking through a pane of glass, the colors are bright and washed with radiance.

It's almost too much to look at, almost too painful to bear.




"You. You look familiar."
"I believe you are familiar as well." Martouf glanced at Sam. "This is... intriguingly strange."
"You're tellin' me," she muttered, still eyeing the redhead who was downing another shot.




"I've been making some calculations."

He grunted from where he was cleaning the fish. It was kind of cutely domestic. Yeah. The world had ended and she was thinking in cute terms. She needed a life.

"I don't think we're going to survive the winter." The words were matter of fact, but she can feel the build-up of something inside.
lyssie: (aliensexfiend Jool)
Arab Is Love FUCKABLE
The Ladies

Arab Is Love FUCKABLE
The Gentlemen

http://www.livejournal.com/community/fuck_arabs

is the culprit.

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lyssie

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