(no subject)

[apocalypsos]

Okay, as of this post, I'm officially cutting off anime submissions for the next Pairing List That Ate Fandom round. I wouldn't do it, it's just that I think we've hit an anime quota. Actually, I think we've hit several anime quotas.

As for other submissions, I think I'm going to change to cut off point to tomorrow night. Quite frankly, you people make quite an impressive list in less than a week, and besides, considering how many names I've already got, it's going to take me a week just to pair 'em up and type 'em out.

So, you know ... go. Submit. Go crazy. (Not necessarily in that order.)

Comments

[apocalypsos.livejournal.com]

Yup, you kinda drove me over the edge. (In a "Jeez, I want to write something, too!" kind of a way.) All this anime was making me feel left out. Then again, now I know how some of the people who've read the previous lists feel.

And you know, you could just write that anyway. *drops hints like anvils*

because I wuv ooo

[octopedingenue]

un-beta'ed, un-edited, and probably destined to be disowned


(note: this is comic-book Mary Jane, during the time in which she was working as a model on the West Coast during her marital separation from Peter.)



Left Behind

It shouldn’t be hard to dial the phone number she’s had for years. MJ’s fingers hover over the keypad, as they have for the past ten minutes, as she recites the area code in a numbing loop in her head. Peter doesn’t know she’s in D.C. for a photo shoot, but he could drive from New York in half a day. The dial tone buzzes insistently at her.

She has a career now, one that she chose. Her own life.

The ends of her fingers are going numb.

MJ hooks the receiver back onto the wall and wanders back into the mostly deserted bar. The bored-looking man behind the bar flicks an inquiring glance at her, and she’s about to pull back a chair to sit down in front of him when she sees that the chair next to her is occupied.

A small, delicate-looking woman is sprawled asleep onto the bartop, her head pillowed on one arm and her glasses askew. She’s brunette and pretty--but wrong clothes, very wrong makeup, the professional side of MJ’s brain notes dispassionately. But pretty. Very pretty.

MJ gently shakes the woman’s shoulder. “Are you waiting on someone?”

“Jake?” the woman mumbles sleepily. Suddenly her head snaps up and she stares at MJ, fully awake and turning pale.

“You’re waiting on your boyfriend?” MJ says.

Some of the color returns to the woman’s face, a hot flush that creeps up her neck. She ducks her head awkwardly. “I’m not really-—he’s not-—we don’t-—I guess I fell asleep,” she finishes lamely. She looks at her wristwatch and her face goes white again.

“Is he running late?” MJ tries to keep the edge of familiar bitterness out of her sympathetic tone.

“No. Didn’t show,” the woman corrects her. There is no bitterness in her voice, only resignation. “Out saving the world, I guess.”

MJ’s breath catches raggedly in her throat, and the woman’s head snaps up at the sound. Her eyes are glittering, enormous with the magnification of the glasses and the tears.

She has her own life. Isn’t that what she wanted?

MJ puts her handbag on the bar and slides into the chair.

Re: because I wuv ooo

[apocalypsos.livejournal.com]

*applauds, then shags you silly*