Retirement Suits Me, I Think.

Since I no longer have tedious, boring term papers leeching my will to put finger to keyboard and am no longer obsessed with the certainty that I'm going to be thrown into the street if I'm not the firstest and bestest with the mostest, my plotbunnies have gone into a frenzy. Hence, the next installment of The CSI:NY Alphabet, C Is for Confession, should be up in a few days. I started it months ago, but it was lost in the shuffle of incoming plotkits and the onus of "Detail Man". I rediscovered it after rummaging through the various scraps of unfinished fic saved on LJ. It was ninety percent finished, so I took it out and polished it and decided to finish it. Why not? The fandom needs more Flack fic.

Speaking of fandom, there's new Supernatural tonight. Whee! I just hope it's not a harbinger of an entire season of Sam whining and moaning about how sorry he is, Dean; he didn't know; that damn Ruby bitch tricked him. If it is, I will go on a face-punching rampage, because Dean warned him seventy-five hundred times. Sam flouted the cardinal rule of hunting and trusted a demon because she sucked his cock and told him what he wanted to hear. My utter lack of sympathy, let me show you it.