I contain multitudes

Today I.

Stared at my self indulgent love letter to John Sheppard, also known as the "Sunday" coda, which does have a title, though I've taken to calling it ( spoiler )

in my head.

Completely failed to write anything into said coda. The night is young, or so I'm telling myself. I have the notes for scene seven lying around somewhere.

Glutted on One Piece (my favorite pirate anime). I am now on episode 176. I called fashes to squee. Then the next download finished and I had to hang up on her.

lierdumoa: Okay, I should go back to ... doing things.
fashes: You mean doing nothing?
lierdumoa: Yes, that.

I'm on the Skypiea arc in One Piece. Roronoa Zoro is walking around in a form fitting dark blue tank top and ass hugging black ninja pants. Unusually metro for him. Nami keeps taking her shirt off, which I am all for, even if her bikini is kind of hideous. I mean, seriously, where would you even find a paisley bikini? I don't know why Sanji is wearing a pink hawaiian shirt. I don't want to know why Sanji is wearing a pink hawaiian shirt. Zoro killed a (giant flying) eel and started pondering different ways to prepare and eat it. I think he's been spending more time around his boyfriend than he's been letting on. Nico Robin continues to win at everything. Like Indiana Jones. Only with breasts, and mass murder.

I *will* break 7000 words by tomorrow. Goddamnit. As soon as I get to ep 180.

Ooooh. Zoro just got a gaping chest wound. He must be close to winning, then.

I <3 my show.