Earlier, I started a post with "Ow ow ow. Badfic is bad."
Several hours and side trips to eat dinner, reread bits of My Friend Flicka* and annoy Casper, I'm on chapter twelve.
...They're long chapters.
I'm so ashamed. It has an OCC and it's a girl and Paul McDermott declares he wants to have her babies.
Yes, really. Chapter twelve.
Please don't unfriend me. You have every right to but please don't; I need people to cling to when the realisation hits that my life is over and pretty soon I'll be reduced to leaving reviews on the Pit of Voles saying "OMG this is liek teh bestest! Plz post more!!!! And plz review my AWESOME DAAS FIC BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME LOL!!!!!eleventy!!"
...That actually hurt. Maybe I'm not a lost cause.
I will be unless someone stops me reading though. This fucker has FORTY-FOUR CHAPTERS. SOMEONE CALL THE FIC POLICE ON ME NOW. HELP.
(I can't believe I'm wasting my now-precious freetime on this. Oh god. I need someone here to take the laptop off me. This is a cry for help flisters. TELL ME TO STOP. BADFIC WILL ONLY HURT ME IN THE END.
Except, fuck me, it actually has some lines that're funny. Just enough that when I want to close the window and scream and throw Harry II across the room, I actually laugh and forget it's awful.
I'm a lost cause. 'scuse me; I need to go cry somewhere. Preferably somewhere without internet access.)
*I sorted my kids books out, remember. I'd forgotten how much that series gives even my thoughts a soft American drawl.
edit the pathetic: Oh my god she just referenced an article from The Forgetting of Wisdom. And I only know that because I was reading it yesterday. How can someone who can drop in sneaky references to a celebrity's obscure out of print book write forty-four chapters for self-insertion Mary Sueage?
Yes, it's over an hour later and I'm still reading. None of you jumped in to dissuade me from this casual disregard for my sanity. I hate you all.*
*Not really. I'm still hoping someone can drag me away from this before I actually lose sleep to it.
Several hours and side trips to eat dinner, reread bits of My Friend Flicka* and annoy Casper, I'm on chapter twelve.
...They're long chapters.
I'm so ashamed. It has an OCC and it's a girl and Paul McDermott declares he wants to have her babies.
Yes, really. Chapter twelve.
Please don't unfriend me. You have every right to but please don't; I need people to cling to when the realisation hits that my life is over and pretty soon I'll be reduced to leaving reviews on the Pit of Voles saying "OMG this is liek teh bestest! Plz post more!!!! And plz review my AWESOME DAAS FIC BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME LOL!!!!!eleventy!!"
...That actually hurt. Maybe I'm not a lost cause.
I will be unless someone stops me reading though. This fucker has FORTY-FOUR CHAPTERS. SOMEONE CALL THE FIC POLICE ON ME NOW. HELP.
(I can't believe I'm wasting my now-precious freetime on this. Oh god. I need someone here to take the laptop off me. This is a cry for help flisters. TELL ME TO STOP. BADFIC WILL ONLY HURT ME IN THE END.
Except, fuck me, it actually has some lines that're funny. Just enough that when I want to close the window and scream and throw Harry II across the room, I actually laugh and forget it's awful.
I'm a lost cause. 'scuse me; I need to go cry somewhere. Preferably somewhere without internet access.)
*I sorted my kids books out, remember. I'd forgotten how much that series gives even my thoughts a soft American drawl.
edit the pathetic: Oh my god she just referenced an article from The Forgetting of Wisdom. And I only know that because I was reading it yesterday. How can someone who can drop in sneaky references to a celebrity's obscure out of print book write forty-four chapters for self-insertion Mary Sueage?
Yes, it's over an hour later and I'm still reading. None of you jumped in to dissuade me from this casual disregard for my sanity. I hate you all.*
*Not really. I'm still hoping someone can drag me away from this before I actually lose sleep to it.
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