Aille, if you need another beta, I can take a look.

Me too! Profile's good.

(Well, actually, there's a chin or two more than is seemly, and something a bit Hitchcock-esque, full-figure. But my profile email address, however, is fine.)

Oh, how I crave validation. Insent to both of you, you lovely people.

eta: Beverly is fuh-nee, and I'm sure your profile is lovely.

Writer's block?

Drabble-Matic!

It's automagical.

OMG, that is fucking hilarious!

I took this away, cause I think this is the wrong place?

Office/ Homicide (funny AU) MUNCH: I do not believe we are driving out to Scranton because some guy in a warehouse died.

KAY: Well, think of it as doing Brodie a favor then, huh?

MUNCH: I think the career he got with the emmy is quite favor enough, you know.

KAY: Maybe...I didn’t have anything better to do.

MUNCH: Really? Your asceticism wounds me, Sargeant Howard.

KAY: I hope you’re not gonna chew on that dictionary the whole way.(Changing the subject): What do you think Brodie takes pictures of in a paper factory, huh?

MUNCH: It’s not a factory..that schmendrick Scott told me that much. At some length, I might add. They just sell it there, or order it or something. I have to tell you, I kinda tuned out. Have you met with Scranton Homicide yet?

KAY(snorts): Absolutely amateur hour.

MUNCH: Are you sure you want to say that with the camera on?

KAY: Yeah...it’d be sad if I didn’t get work in the middle of nowhere again.

So this vic, Roy, worked in the warehouse. He has a fiancee that he planned to marry for three years.

MUNCH: That doesn’t mean anything.

KAY: Look who I’m telling, huh? Why are you assholes all alike?

MUNCH: I don’t expect to be found dead in the middle of a warehouse for years yet, Kay.

KAY: Glad to hear it, Munchkin.

MUNCH: Dunder- Mifflin. Sounds like a sexual disorder.

KAY: You think everything sounds like a sexual disorder
. MUNCH: You knew when you met me that I was romantic. Speaking of, maybe Roy was getting it on the side.

KAY: Maybe she was, whoever she is. It can be awfully hard to get in the mood if you don’t feel appreciated.

MUNCH: Is that a hint?

KAY: Now, that’s something I don’t wanna talk about with the damn camera on. Sometimes I wish I still scared the crap out of Brodie.

Chiming in to say that I haven't dropped the fic exchange idea. I've just been hella busy. If all goes well, and the light I'm seeing at the end of the tunnel is not a tac nuke, I'll start finalizing details this weekend.

An old plot bunny hopped back in. I think it's better this time. Buffy/ Six Feet Under
“Hey, gotta light?” The woman’s voice is husky and mysterious.

Henry is instantly intrigued, though he is divorced and old enough to know better. He tries out his old flirty voice.” You know, those things will kill you.”

”You know,” she replies, touching his arm,moving in closer(back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, this was known as a good sign. He’d better draw back on the Smoke Nazi thing; it might make him seem judgmental.)”I doubt it.” Some other sucker who probably would give his left nut to be Henry right now, breathing in this woman’s proximity, rushes forward with his lighter, and she takes a puff. She is so perfect, Henry doesn’t see her breathe.

”I kind of like it that you smoke, though,” Henry says, “Fuckin’ L.A. Everyone’s so damn health conscious, I just wanna puke.” The woman says nothing. Even in the short time she’s been here, she’s learned it’s common for even the most awestruck recent arrival to affect great disdain for the beauty of this place and the silly dreams it represents.

“I like you, too,” she says, putting on like she’s had more to drink than she’s had so he’ll know that the coast is clear. Alcohol doesn’t affect her like it used to. Of course, she’s been through some...changes since she came here on the bus from Omaha. But she wanted a whole new life, right? Of course, this wasn’t what she had in mind...

She play-“stumbles” and bumps into Henry, who is awkward and shy looking at the glint of her tongue-stud and expensive new haircut. Which means he will faint when he sees the tattoo on her ass, but it won’t be long after that anyway...the things a woman does to eat in this town.”My roommate isn’t home tonight,” she whispers.

HENRY WILSON

1967-2000

David Fisher had to admit it. The best part of his day(at work, anyway) was before the grisly stuff started, rearranging all of his gleaming instruments and making sure they were just so.

”Good Lord,” Nate told him. “Are you anal!”

”I’m sorry?”

“What? Is that in bad taste now? Since you came out and stuff?”

”Ha, ha.” David replied. “Maybe you’re just sloppy...have you ever thought of that?”

“If I did, what would you bring to these conversations, David. Besides your sunny disposition?’

Nonetheless, Nate helped to slide the body, Mr. Wilson on the table. Mr. Wilson looked so perfect that Nate expected him to open his eyes and say “Made you look!”

“Huh,”

“He looks kind of perfect doesn’t he?” David asked. “It’s bizarre. I almost can’t see a reason why he should be dead.”

”Happens to everybody,” Nate offered, and then thought “God, that was stupid.”

Whenever David faced something he couldn’t understand, he became flustered and irritated. “I *know* that. You can spare me your Seattle cookie-cutter philosophy. I meant physically.”

”I don’t see anything either,” his brother admitted. “Except for these marks on his neck.”

“So what?” David said. “He’s got a hickey. I hope I’m that lucky when I die.”

“Except for one thing...they’re puncture wounds and they’re way too deep. I know you’re discovering the love that dare not speak its name and everything, but I hope to hell you’re not into that.”

”Maybe he used drugs. Maybe he tripped on a barbecue fork. Whatever. It’s really not our problem now.”

“A barbecue fork,” Nate repeated. “Don’t you think you sound a little crazy right now?”

”Considering we buried a guy that took a lunchbox to the head, I don’t think so.”

”*Are* you into that?” Nate teased. He knew his brother would never answer such a personal question, but watching David blush and squirm like a teenager was always loads of fun. And distracting. Because those marks made him think the impossible.
"No!"

”So, seriously, if Matt Damon wanted to suck your blood, you wouldn’t let him?”

”Where did you come up with Matt Damon?”

“Because I think he could play (continued...)