they're all blood, you see

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Hello, Stranger, be my friend.

Masterlist of Crossover Fic

Masterlist of Non-Crossover Fic

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Author: pprfaith
Title: she’s liable to grow up mean
Summary: Carter has always had an eye for deadly things and the blonde on his dancefloor fits the bill.
Word count: 3.3k
Disclaimer: The Buffy and Fast and Furious franchises belong to their respective creators. Title is stolen from a Poe song.
Warnings: Minor violence, minor angsting, off-screen crimes being committed.
A/N: I was trying to figure out a hasn’t-been-done-yet way of introducing Buffy to the FF franchise. This is the outcome.

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( Buffy is eighteen when she stops running, and that’s really only because she’s standing with her toes dipping in the Atlantic, all out of country to run across.Collapse )

Can we talk about the new Iron Man, because that was a big, steaming pile of Not Okay.

>>SPOILERS<<

I mean, if watched isolated from all other Marvel movies and if you don't know shit about the 'verse and if you have no clue what Extremis is and are okay with the Mandarin being a prop and Pepper getting pimped and everything being very funny and not much else and Tony deciding that this whole superheroing business was just his ego out of control (which, okay, it is) and that it's time to get that fixed, then yeah, you're golden.

I am not golden.

They broke my favorite superhero.

Worse, actually. They fixed him.

>>SPOILERS OVER<<

I'ma cry in my pillow now.

Question:

Why do people associate ruffles with romance?

I've been trolling the Crafts&DIY section of pinterest and everything with ruffles on it is declared 'romantic'.

Darling, I don't care how much he loves you, no-one man, dog or plant is going to find an old t-shirt upcycled into a yellow, ruffled dress romantic. Comedic, yes. Possibly cathartic, due to the tear-inducing laughter, but not romantic.

Ruffles make me think of baby bums and lacy doilies, flower-print patterned curtains, button-on collars, Sundays with grandmother and women with a tragically-aged-before-their-time taste in fashion. Also, pink. In my mind, all ruffles are always associated with pink, because of reasons. This is possibly a horrible stereotype, but you have to ask yourself, what if it isn't?

Nothing, but nothing about any of that that screams, "Light the candles so you can see my ruffles and then ravish me."

Okay, so nothing is ever going to so much as whimper that on a dying breath, probably, especially not to me, but it's the principle of the thing.

Ruffles. Are not romantic.

Cute, maybe, but only to other, similarly inclined females. Not to your boyfriends, who're probably only hoping really hard that there's an instruction manual that goes with that dress because layers. Layered ruffles.

The horror.

...

That is all. If you want to share your views on ruffles, feel free to do so. If you don't, then let's pretend I didn't just make an entire post out of... ruffles.

Oh, ye gods.

Today, I told roughly a dozen people to not listen to a word I say because I'm fucking toxic. Pretty much in those exact words.

Because I am so stressed-out and pissed off that I've actually given myself a headache with it and I can't decide whether to punch a wall, or huddle against it and cry and fuck my life.

And what happens after my very explicit, very loud disclaimer?

No less than three people come up to me and tell me that I'm in a mood.

Really? When did redundancy become fashionable and why didn't I know about it? I have spent something like fifty hours a week penned up like cattle with these people since last September. You'd think by now they'd know me a little better.

Also, screw all this for making me use this journal as a real life rage dumping ground. I used to ramble on about funny things, I think. And imaginary things, most of all. Lately all I do is whine. I even whine about how much I whine.

Buuuut I'm having a barbeque on Friday, which should be hilarious. So maybe that'll pick me up.

And hey, all this aggression is good for the muses. I might post something later tonight. If, of course, I can manage to wriggle out from under the pile of essays I have to correct until Friday.

So while we're at it, is there anything I absolutely must write a next chapter/sequel to? Because I'm pretty much in the mood to write whatever and I can never decide. Someone pick for me.

... Or I could go write auction fic, I guess.

And last but not least, Happy Birthday, baby sis. You're officially 'mid-twenties' material now. Weep!

Author: pprfaith
Title: how to Terminator your way through the end of the world
Summary: The world ends. Hannibal kind of hates it.
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Language, so much language. This is every bit as bad as the movie. As in, I actually used the c-word, which I hate, but this is Hannibal King talking and he insisted. Also, gore, genocide, murder, blood. Come on it's apocafic.
Rating: Super hard R
Disclaimer: Things I do not own: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Blade Trinity, The Terminator franchise I quote shamelessly.
A/N: I feel like everyone should have an apocafic they can point at and say, "I kind of think I should regret this, but I don't." This is that fic. Also, ten years of writing fanfic and this is the first time I've turned Buffy into a plot device.

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( Hannibal kind of feels like he should have seen that one coming.Collapse )

Yes, please?

Try to correct spelling and add missing commas to random texts, even books.

Having to be available for work via e-mail 24/7 is the kind of psychological warfare that Cold War Era folks dreamed of.

That is all.

Author: Faithunbreakable/ pprfaith
Title: Some You Lose
Rating: soft R
Summary: Para Liaison Summers, meet the Losers. Crossover with the 2010 movie. Drabble-fic. Yet again.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
A/N: I think I need to find an end for this...

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( In which breakfast is being had and Cougar-y thoughts are being thought.Collapse )

1. Alcohol tolerance goes down really fast.

2. If you watch Riddick and Blade (all parts) in turns long enough, your brain comes up with some really whacky stuff.

3. Growing out a quarter-shaved head of hair looks really weird.

4. I have reached the point where annoying bosses have stopped making me feel dumb and useless. Now they just piss me off.

5. Did I mention the low alcohol tolerance. I'm still partially hung-over from half a bottle of wine drunk 24 hours ago.

6. The most creative thing I've done all week was make an origami flower out of a napkin. I'm too tired to put any effort into anything.

7. Kevin Hearne writes cool books.

8. Rhona Mitra putting on an American accent sounds like she has a sock in her mouth.

9. Still with the Hannibal Fucking King Appreciation.

Say what you will about the fuckery that is Blade Trinity, but there is nothing more awesome than Hannibal King, anywhere, ever.

I could just squee and flail all day long, no problem.

And then we have another episode of FaithKat's Adventures in Teaching.

Fifth grade, English lesson:

"Mrs. Name?! I don't know that word."

"Which word?"

"That one!" *Points at 'to know', written on the transparency*

Really? Really?

If you want a story from me and do a good deed at the same time, I'm taking part in the AO3 Fundraiser Auction.

For details and bidding, see here.

Go! Buy someone! It oughtta be fun!

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Words For Murder

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- A place for my original fic to nest. Permanently.

(I wrote a selkie story today where the sea is an abusive boyfriend, kindasorta. Oh, ye gods.)

I started a tumblr a while back. (Notice that I find it disturbing that my spell check recognizes 'tumblr' as a word.) It was meant for all my short short stories and I played with it for a while and then I left it to sit for a while, but it didn't hatch, so, in a fit of frustration, I deleted all the posts.

( And this is why.Collapse )

In any case Words for Murder is open for the business of original writing again as of today.

Pimp it and I shall worship you forever. No, seriously. Just name me your pantheon.

So here's the thing.

( I fucked my foot up a while back ,right?Collapse )

There are some days where I can't decide whether to punch someone in the face, or curl up and cry a little.

I hate those days.

Title: Brighter
Author: pprfaith
Summary: At the end of it, Emma wears a star around her neck.
Words: 3k, give or take
Warnings: Surprisingly few, for once. No violence, no gore, no death, no nothing, except a little underage sex involving a sixteen-year-old Emma, which is kinda canon, so.
Disclaim Her: I own diddly squat.
A/N: So much fun to be had with this, for real. Also, does anyone know a decent OUAT community around here?

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( Emma is running out of Time.Collapse )

Okay, so this is gonna sound conceited no matter how I phrase it, so I'll just say it.

I collect short short stories. Like, I've got a document with something like eighty of them, most only a few hundred words long. And I've been kinda-sorta playing with the thought of cleaning them up and publishing them. You know, amazon, self-publishing, kindle blah.

Only the thing is: Would anyone even read that?

I.e.: Does anyone read short short stories?

And also: Would anyone read my short short stories?

Because, let's face it, it's not like I'm much use when it comes to larger story formats.

Please, let it be Friday.

Please, please, please, let it be Friday.

Alternately, let the world end a little ahead of schedule. Maybe tomorrow? Before 7.30 am?

Sincerely,
One Overworked Teacher

Title: Wendy and the Lost Boy
Author: pprfaith
Summary: A yellow but and a hot hobo with a hook. Emma Swan's life is about to get weird. (Pre-series AU)
Words: 4k, give or take
Warnings: Surprisingly few, for once. No violence, no gore, no death, no nothing, except a little underage sex involving a sixteen-year-old Emma, which is kinda canon, so.
Disclaim Her: I own diddly squat.
A/N: So much fun to be had with this, for real. Also, does anyone know a decent OUAT community around here?

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( Wait. Wait. Wait.Collapse )

I need to stop saying things like, 'I'm getting the hang of it' and 'I have my life under control'.

The universe is listening. The universe is always listening. And it likes to point and laugh at me.

(And while we're at 'saying things': jedibuttercup, Happy Birthday, darling!)

Title: Ouroboros
Author: pprfaith
Summary: Abandonment begets abandonment and Lost Boys don’t only exist in Neverland.
Disclaim Her: I do not own Once Upon A Time and most likely never will.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Abandonment, orphans, non-linear story- telling, if you can call it that. Confusion. Backstory. Oh gods. Spoilers pretty much up to current.
A/N: My first foray into a new fandom and I’m writing weird, plotless shit. This was supposed to be about how this series survives on familiar entanglements instead of romantic ones, but mostly it just went sideways.

( TheCollapse )

I spent all day today alternately knitting and writing. My hands are about ready to stage a coup, but, oh, glorious creativity, I'm trying out a new stitch and I'm absolutely certain that I'll actually finish the story I'm writing.

Win all around.

I also splurged on craft supplies, or rather, buttons. Five fifty for two buttons is a bit excessive, but I deserve pretty things. End of story.

And on the work-is-deadly front, there's news, too. Namely, I'm getting used to the workload. I actually manage to fit my life into the cracks now. And last week's whining was apparently successful, because the muses are coming back, too.

All in all I can't stand for longer than five minutes, walking hurts and I'm stuck on the couch, but life is good.

Since I seem incapable of writing any sort of fiction at the moment, I thought I'd try my hand at meta.

Thus I proudly present...

( 12 Spoilerific Reasons to Love 'Once Upon a Time'Collapse )

So, hey, I just got out of doing any work this weekend. All I had to do was fuck a few ligaments in my right foot, which currently looks like I'm smuggling an egg under the skin, and, voila, no work!

Yay!

Can I have my work back, please?