Author's Notes: I have the vague feeling something should go here, but I hope it shall pass. The important thing is, I am able to write (even if I am not able to focus on NaNoWriMo as I had once hoped...)
~ ~ ~
"Sometimes, I think I could almost envy him," I said the words half to myself as I watched the little creature slumbering on my finger.
John heard, of course, and gently returned the little fellow to its place. "You envy him? I don't know I've ever heard anything so ridiculous."
"Society is so innate in him. It is his whole life. And it comes easy... and without it, he would die... but it does not worry him. I... I have never known what it is like to belong."
"You said yourself without it he would die. And he is not even a thinking animal. Could you really trade your lot for his?"
"Of course I could not. But sometimes I wonder. It seems... It seems to me that human society is not so different from his. A bustling hive of intrapersonal connection in which every man knows his role but me."
"Walk with me." John said, and I readily acquiesced, taking his arm and following him down to the small pond.
The pond lay between three seperate properties, belonging to none, but the walk that led down to this segment of the bank was ours. Across the little pond was our nearest neighbour, a farmer with several swans in addition to his ducks and chickens. There were at least three swans, and had at one time been four, though for some time I had not observed the last. Today, two were on the water, the largest of the group and his mate.
"Ah, good, they're out. Do you know much about swans?"
"I'm afraid not, aside from being familiar with Mr. Kettering's."
"I'm not asking for a monograph on the subject." John laughed, not unkindly. "You have a basic familiarity with the things?"
"Yes."
"They mate for life."
"Then in that respect, they are better than most men."
"Hush, you. They live in pairs, quite simply, but as far as I know, swans are every bit as happy with their lives as bees."
"Moreso, I imagine. I am not sure of the capacity of bees for true happiness."
"My point is, not all men are bees. Some people are swans, content not to flit about sociably, but to limit themselves to the truly important attachments."
"It is a fair point."
"I'm glad we saw this pair." He pointed. "I spoke to Mr. Kettering the other day, down the shops, he was telling me about them after I expressed a friendly interest in his waterfowl. That big one, the largest, went rather too far afield once. He thought he'd lost it for good. After a fortnight he was sure it had come to a bad end, and after three months he was certain he would never see it again. It got itself lost the night before a big storm and spent those three months penned up on another farm, until the other farmer, a friend of Kettering's, discovered a bird that was not his and returned it."
"Ah." I said. I was not sure what else there was to say. I doubted he wanted me to comment on the correlation between the swan's sense of direction and the weather, though that seemed to me to be the most remarkable facet of the story.
"That whole time the swan was missing, his mate mourned him."
I turned, somewhat sharply, to find John staring out at the water intently. His gaze did not follow the swans. It did nothing but avoid my own.
"Three months seems a long time for a swan."
"It would have done so its entire lifetime." He assured me.
I grasped his wrist gently. "Lucky its mate had not really died."
"Yes." His voice was tight. "Lucky."
"A poor swan, knowing he would be mourned and staying away so long."
"He was in a pen."
"How do you think a swan apologizes, for a thing like that? Is a swan's capacity to hold a grudge proportional to his capacity to mourn?"
"Her capacity."
"Yes. Of course. I meant, well, in a general sense."
"I am sure that her joy far outweighed any sense of being hard-used. Perhaps she was presented with some particularly fine duckweed."
"It's beginning to get cold. Come back to the house with me."
We trudged back up to the cottage in silence, though not an oppressive one. The silence remained as I prepared tea-- with fresh honey-- and he stoked the fire in the front room. Settled in together, I rested my head over his heart.
"It seems as though I am not cut out to be any creature at all."
"How fortunate it is that we are human beings, then." John smiled, his fingers carding through my hair.
"Very fortunate."
"I forgave you years ago, you know." He took the cup from my hand before it could drop, placing it alongside his own on the low table.
"I always suspected you of being too good to me."
He kissed the top of my head. "Never too good. I think we are just good enough. I think we are far better for being together than we might have been without... and I think that now, it is time for bed, and in the morning your mood will have changed completely, and there shall be no more of this curious depression."
I rose and followed him to our bed. I could not be certain until the morning came, whether or not he would be right, but I held out some hope, and that in itself was a strong indicator.
~ ~ ~
~Finis~
~Glas
- Music:When I Grow Too Old To Dream/Remember- Mandy Patinkin
I've got some stuff to get around to.
- Music:When The Foeman Bares His Steel- Pirates of Penzance
Because when I see a meme, sometimes I just can't help myself. Sometimes I can help myself, but now is not one of those times. (and now I'm reminded I still need to dig up and post a couple more way-belated vacay-blogs...)
1. Are you a male or female?
A Man And A Woman (... I could NOT resist using this one here!)
2. Describe yourself:
Rock and Roll Hero
3. How do you feel:
Special Girl (see, good things happened because I didn't use it at number one...)
4. Describe where you currently live:
Where Angels Sing
5. If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Good Girls Go To Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)
6. Your favorite form of transportation:
Crazy 'Bout A Mercury
7. Your best friend:
Dead Ringer For Love
8. Your favorite color is:
Unsaid
9. What's the weather like:
Hot Summer Night
10. Favorite time of day:
Nocturnal Pleasure
11. If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Love, Death, and an American Guitar
12. What is life to you:
Life Is A Lemon (And I Want My Money Back)
13. Your current relationship:
I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)
14. Looking for:
Paradise By The Dashboard Light
15. Wouldn’t mind:
Wasted Youth
16. Your fear:
The Monster Is Loose
17. What is the best advice you have to give:
Sieze The Night
18. If you could change your name, you would change it to:
Priscilla
19. Thought for the Day:
I'll Kill You If You Don't Come Back
20. How you want to die:
Left In The Dark
21. My motto:
Amnesty Is Granted
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KJ-Glspw
This is them, the mad people. *grin*
Also, you may be able to spot Glas herself, looking like a boiled lobster in grey and green and doing absolutely nothing in the background. (all my work at preserving the anonymity of my relatives, and I go and put up the video. But hey, one of them had to post it first...)
<object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gBPSJgSTaVE&hl=e
Erm, if that works, that's from MitM. Holy crap, there is no place you can pause that video that doesn't look completely mentally incompetent... Hopefully it's okay in motion!
As is this (which, if it works, is a lot better):
<object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QFINLGPVK4g&hl=e
So that's the vid-ness.
- Music:Do-Re-Mi
I used to have a huge sticker on my hat, a big heart that said 'Liberty, Justice & Marriage Equality MARRIAGE EQUALITY USA marriageequality.org., but it came off in my cousin's car en route from the airport. I think it's stuck on the inside of the door. She'll enjoy it if she finds it.
I went to Meet In The Middle, the one time a major rally came to my neck of the woods (I live about an hour from Fresno, which in addition to being a punchline, is about smack dab in the middle of California). I saw Dustin Lance Black and Cleve Jones speak! MitM is where I got the sticker and put it on my hat.
(Later, a guy who didn't spot it slapped another one on my chest in passing. I figure, if I'm going to get my chest touched by a random man, a gay marriage rights rally is the best place for this to happen.)
Anyway, videos from MitM later.
Still the Best Reunion Evar. Went to Powell's Books (HUGE!) and met up w/ yet another cousin. We looked at comics and talked about random stuff, and quoted 'The Legend of Old Gregg' at each other. Hint: If you say 'D'you want to go to a club where people wee on each other?' while your cousin has just taken a bite of something, your mother will not find it nearly as amusing as you do. Just getting that out for posterity.
Still not a baby holder (NOTE FROM THE PRESENT: NEVER DID HOLD B
By the by, kids? They love my sister right back. My cousin's older two went to her for every game, showed off purchases from the Lego store, drew with crayons and washable markers together... she was a fast favourite of the latest generation.
Little Batman-loving girl, by the way? Got Harley & Ivy at Powell's. I was jealous, but totally squeeful. Always want to encourage the next generation of bat-fans, you know. And my femmeslash OTP (although, I see that aspect of the duo being completely unnoticed, by her and her folks.) (I got Fox Bunny Funny and Penn & Teller's How To Play With Your Food)
Oh, and I believe I mentioned the Lego store? Yeah, we also went to the Lego store! (in the local-est mall). My fellow Bat-fan's older brother (and my younger brother) were in HEAVEN. Everyone found something fun to look at there, but those guys are the biggest Lego-maniacs. Also, in the build-a-Lego-person bins (this is a thing that exists), I built a Lego Howard! He has a painted-on moustache, a horrible shirt (stripes, they didn't have green, beige, hawaiian, or anything tweedish), and a push broom for cleaning up after wild animals or clumsy shop customers. <3! Someday I hope to find the bits necessary to build a Lego Vince (maybe a Naboo as well?)
- Music:cricketscricketscricketsDISHWASHERcricketscricketscrickets...
It's been/is continuing to be so much fun with everybody.
I'm not a big fan of children-- they're loud and sticky and cruel-- but I love my cousin's kids. The older two (technically stepkids, but the family blended so unbelievably well that I will be heretofore dropping the 'step') are fairly quiet, smart, sweet li'l things. The boy reminds everybody of my brother at that age (uncanny, not being blood related, but seriously, very much alike) and the girl has begun to remind me quite a lot of my childhood self. We're both obsessive Batman fans (Catwoman rules!) who love playing charades and drawing kittens. We also both have purple glasses (though my childhood glasses were blue, and not nearly so cute, so on that level, she wins).
And the baby. The BABY! I am not a baby person, either. I have a couple of friends who had a baby, and it's cute, and I'll tickle it a little when I see them, but I always feel awkward around a baby. Not so, this baby. I still won't hold her-- what if I drop her? Scary! What if she poos? Icky! (she's really good at going for distance... my cousin is in the market for a better diaper in the meantime...)-- but the other night I kissed her little head, the first baby I've kissed since I was six years old and my brother was a tiny blue blanket burrito.
She's very alert, and strong, and she's ahead on those early month developmental steps, and she looks so much like her mom's baby pics. She has gotten so many prezzies in just the first two days! (I know we went a bit overboard when we saw a sale...) Luckily, we've all remembered big brother and big sister gifts as well (being an oldest child, I can attest to the importance. You need something to occupy your time when NO GROWN-UPS are paying attention to you!) (actually, there are so many 'grown-ups' cousin-once-removeds and aunts and uncles and grands that they get mucho attention)
Also, the baby is not a big cryer. She'll get fussy, but she's very polite about it. She smiles a lot.
More from my trip later!
- Music:Chowder
I've got to sleep, because in the early AM, I've got to drive a couple hours (well, *I* don't drive, but I don't really sleep in the car, either, so at best I'll be in a semi-trance in the car for a couple of hours, it's weird) to get to an airport, hang out there for about an hour (hopefully not too much more! We just want to get there early enough to check in with plenty of time), fly for a couple of hours...
Eugh.
Anyway, at the end of all that, I'll be in Oregon (not too far from Portland) for the big family reunion and writer's conference. Though, this year I'm not going to most of the conference-- I'd like to at least go to the pre-conference author's faire to look at books and such, and if I'm lucky I'll be able to go to the awards banquet to cheer for my sister, but that one's a long-shot. We don't know how many comp tickets are involved, and the tickets are kind of pricey for food that I'm sure is very good, but every meal has at least one ingredient I can't eat... I still would like to go, because A) my sister took first for screenplay and that's exciting, and B) the key note speaker is Chelsea Cain, and I really loved her first book.
Anyway, family reunion will be fun-- it isn't every one of my mom's relatives, just my maternal grandparents' four kids and all their kids (and now, grandkids, because my oldest cousin just had a BABY! Which I'll be seeing for the first time, since the little chili pepper lives in Utah. She also has two step-kids who are precocious and not sticky and annoying the way most children are. I like them.)
It kind of makes me realize I'm not a kid anymore... I mean, on the one hand, I *feel* like a kid when I get together with all my cousins, since the most time we spent together was when we were all young and the whole clan lived in southern California so it wasn't so hard to get together. But now two of my cousins are married, one of them a mother. One of my cousins is going to school to become a doctor. I mean, everyone's being impressive now except me. Including the 'little kids' (ones younger than me)...
My problem is, I *should* be comparing myself to people on the autism spectrum and saying 'well, I'm actually pretty high-functioning', but instead, because I have Asperger's and not "full-blown autism", I'm comparing myself to the 'normal' people and saying 'Woah! How come my life isn't going anywhere, why can't I get it together, what's wrong with me?'. I know this is my problem. I know if I just shifted my perspective a little bit and looked at my situation realistically, I would feel so much better about myself. But do I? Rarely.
Woah, I got kind of off-topic there... The point I wanted to make was, I should go to bed soon, I'll be going out of town for about ten days, I don't know if I'll be getting online at all while I'm up there, so I may be catching up on everything when I get home.
- Music:Putting On The Ritz
On two fronts this time.
Okay, so it's been a long weekend of accompanying mum and sis shopping, which has been mostly fun. As I've said before, I 'shop like a man' and prefer to look at books and DVDs and lose my patience in the clothing section (and let's face it, Glas is... not svelte. It gets boring looking at cute clothes you can never hope to wriggle into), and if I have a list, then heaven help us, Mr. Allison, I will breeze through that store like a man on a mission! Or, woman on a mission. Catgirl on a mission. Anyway, missions are involved. I don't mess around (unless there are books, of course...)
But anyway, I've had fun this time because my sister does fit into quite a few cute things, so there's some shopping-by-proxy, and even though we don't even wear the same size shoes, scarves/wraps I can always borrow off her in future. So today we're in Target (Tar-zhay if you like the snooty french pronounsh, Turgit if you're Kristen Wiig), and on redonkulous clearance, I find... The Hat.
Okay, not THE hat, I'm a hat person, an unabashed hat addict. There are many hats, at Target and beyond, that I lust after, openly and mostly not-sexually. But this hat? I wish I had a picture. Eventually, I will get a picture. For three bucks and change, I found this AWFUL straw hat, a beige and orange monstrosity, a trilby-like creature of such fashion-challenged jazziness that looking upon it made me squeal, and wearing it made my eyes go shifty and my heart start to scat.
I found a Howard hat.
It makes me so happy. They have a few, in both mens and womens hat areas, that make me think of Howard, but this, this was the king of jazzy-hats-of-which-Vince-would-not-appr
Anyway, onto the REAL Boosh news, the boys on Chelsea Lately. I don't generally watch Chelsea, though I suppose I find her mostly amusing when I do. Anyway, my reactions-by-number
1) Again, I want Noel's shirt. I want it bad. Ruffley shirt lust kicked in in full gear, baby. Urnghmmm, it looked so soft, too...
2) Much less Julian participashe in this interview. Ah well, it's enough for Ju to be eye candy. It's not as though he was a statue throughout the whole thing, he was just much quieter.
3) I loved the boys' reaction when she asked which one was friends with Courtney Love. They exchanged these glances like 'um, who does she THINK?'
4) I can't remember one of the things I loved that happened. I think it was something cute Noel said, I just don't remember what... He was adorable, but the specific is escaping me right at moment. It might have been about only ever seeing a drawing of a bush... although I also went mad over their story about stealing a golf cart to chase down Gene Simmons...
5) LOVE LOVE LOVED the moment where, on the subject of clothes, Julian plucks at Noel's sleeve to illustrate, but when he first takes Noel's arm, they are off-screen and the camera is on Chelsea, who just says 'Why are you touching him like that?'. My mind went someplace COMPLETELY different.
Not as long/good as the Fallon interview, no crimping, they really didn't get to talk much about the show except in a rush at the end. But I was happy to see them anyway. Same clip got shown of Legend of Old Gregg. Still found it amusing. A bit surprised Chelsea didn't get them on the topic of Gregg's mangina, actually...
Title: Boosh In Wonderland
Rating: Hm, PG-ish for mischief
Summary: As requested by df_2nd_diary, Vince as the White Rabbit... leading us on a journey through time and space down the rabbit hole...
Disclaimer: Not mine. The Boosh fellas (and fiends) belong to Noel and Julian, Wonderland to... I imagine the estate of Charles Dodgson.
Author's Note: In return for the lurvely icon you see here.
Vince sauntered through the wood, in no particular hurry. He had a pocket watch, which was unusual for a rabbit, but had never really learned to read it, which was less unusual. He imagined he had plenty of time to get where he was going, barring the unforeseen. And honestly, punctuality wasn't something he was bothered with. He was late all the time, and he never got in trouble. Who could possibly begrudge a cute little white rabbit a few minutes to get his whiskers in order and his tail extra fluffly-wuffly?
Through the trees, there was a soft rustling sound, then a less soft rustling, breaking branches, a glimpse of pale blue fabric, and then a great crash, the wearer of the blue fabric falling through the nearby foliage and landing face down at Vince's feet.
"Bunny-boy!" The man gasped.
"Um... Look, I'd love to stay and chat," Vince eyed the stranger warily. He looked fat, and mentally challenged. And he had a gleam in his eyes that Vince didn't like at all. "But as you can see here, I'm a very important rabbit with a waistcoat and a pocket watch, and I'm late for a very important date, so, later, yeah?"
And with that, he took off at a run. Left, right, right, left, right, under the low branch, over the wild strawberry patch, behind the hill, and down, down, down the safety of the very rabbit-sized entrance into Wonderland. There! That bunny-happy stranger couldn't possibly follow him here!
~~~
"Bunny? Bunny!" Bob Fossil stumbled through the forest after the strange bunny-man. He'd seen other animals in the forest before-- coatrack-hat-guy, flying head-spinny lady, tiny tree bucktooth boy... but the bunny was the first one he was really comfortable with. Plus, he was pretty easy on the eyes.
Squeezing down the rabbit hole took a lot of work, and he had to strip down to his underpants to get through, but finally he made it, into a strange place he'd never been before. It was kind of like the forest, only underground, and a little bit... tilted. In funny colours. He heard a giggle and spun around. There under a tree was a little red man with the black sockies and bottlebrush tail. Also, he had a hand full of needles.
"Hi there. Would you like to hear my story?"
"Not now, I'm looking for a bunny."
"You got no trousers on." The little red man giggled.
"So? You're a animal!"
"Hm... If you're looking for a bunny, you wanna be going to the Hatter's tea party, he got a March Hare."
"Okay. Where is that?"
"I'm going to hurt ya bad now."
"I don't know where that is."
"Can't you read the sign?" The little red man scowled, then giggled, then tapped a sign. 'DEADLY FOREST', it read. Then, underneath, 'HATTER'S THIS WAY', and an arrow.
"Thanks!"
~~~
Howard shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his tea. It was a little off. He didn't think the giant teapot in the corner had been used to brew it-- it seemed mostly decorative, and of course, housed the sleeping Bollo. The Hatter claimed Bollo was a dormouse, but he looked more like a gorilla to Howard.
Howard lifted the lid on the nearby regular-sized teapot. It had tea in it, yes, but swimming in that tea was an eel. Feeling sick, he pushed his cup away.
"What's the matter, squire?" The Hatter asked, leering through his large, minty eye. "Not thirsty? Need a fresh cup?"
"No, sir, thank you. I'm just wondering... how long am I expected to stay here?"
"This is my unbirthday party!" The Hatter cackled. "Hoy! You'll be here 'til it ain't my unbirthday anymore."
Howard sighed. "And how soon will that be?"
"Well... let's see. You've got one birthday every year, but minus that, I'd say my unbirthday goes on for the other three hundred sixty-four. Looking a little green around the gills there, boy. Sure you don't want another cup of tea?"
His eyes darted to the eely pot. "I'm sure."
Just then, Vince bounced into the small garden. He grinned widely and bounced into Howard's lap. "Howard! How's my favourite hare?"
"Oh, you know. Living a life of abject terror."
"Welcome, to my unbirthday party!" The Hatter welcomed Vince. "Have a cup of tea, have a cup of tea."
"BUNNY!"
Vince slid off Howard's lap. "Uh, can't, gotta go!"
And he dashed off, leaving Howard to the rest of the worst tea party in the world. Oh well... at least he got away from the animal offenders... it was completely ridiculous his being in there in the first place! He wasn't a truant piglet, or a murderous walrus. He was just an ordinary, normal March Hare, and if he happened to be in the Red Queen's garden with a pair of binoculars, that was ordinary March Hare behaviour!
Suddenly, a fat man clad only in little blue pants crashed into the garden. He glared at Howard. "You're not my bunny-boy!"
"I am most certainly not, Sir." Howard drew himself up. "Howard Moon is a proud March Hare, sir, and nobody's bunny boy."
"I don't like you." The man said plainly, as if Howard's identity was somehow his own fault.
"More comfortable chairs, squire?" The Hatter stood. "Come on, everybody move down! Hoy!"
"Come on, Bollo." Howard lifted the lid of the giant teapot. "Let's go find Naboo."
~~~
After being forcibly ejected from the tea party by that nice green hat guy, Bob Fossil wandered Wonderland searching for his bunny friend, but was distracted by a giant one of those guys with spots and legs, sitting on a giant toadstool, and smoking a hookah pipe.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"I'm Naboo, that's who." The guy with spots and legs blew smoke at him. Suddenly Cheetos sounded really, really good. And pie.
"I'm looking for a bunny-boy, can you help me?"
"Ugh, I didn't need to see that... Yeah, I can help you." Naboo pulled out a book and chanted something that made the air glow.
"Wow, I got all my clothes back on!"
"Yeah, you're incredibly welcome for that. If you want Vince, he's supposed to be working for the Red Queen and King, but he's probably slacking off somewhere."
"Vincey the bunny?" His eyes lit up. "Where can I find the Red Queen, she's got my bunny-funny-Vincey-poo?"
Naboo made an odd face. "Just... follow the yellow brick road, it's on loan from Oz, we only got it through the end of the week, so don't dawdle."
~~~
The Red Queen blinked at Howard. "I'm sorry?"
"Howard Moon, your majesty. The March Hare? We used to work together before you became queen? In the King's menagerie? You were in the reptile house, I was head of the aviary?"
"Were you one of the animals in my husband's menagerie?"
"No, one of the keepers! Look, nevermind, your majesty. Have you seen His Highness' shaman?"
"Naboo? No, I haven't. Ah, but you're a friend of his familiar's!"
"No, your majesty--"
"We not friends." Bollo yawned. "But Vince like him."
"Ah, a friend of Vince's." She smiled. "He's setting up the croquet."
Howard left Bollo to sleep under a suspiciously drippy rosebush, and left the queen to find Vince.
~~~
"Howard!" Vince jumped up. "Guess what, me and Pete Neon've been talking about what's in an' I reckon--"
"Vince, I don't care about what Pete Neon says, he's a croquet mallet." Howard said, his grumpy face in place. "Have you not set up anything at all?"
"Well... it sort of takes care of itself eventually." He shrugged, only slightly guilty. He slid his hand into Howard's. "Come on, I got something to show you,"
Howard started to protest, but Vince pulled him into a nearby secret warren and stroked his ears until he became a compliant, gibbering fluffball. "All right, Howard?"
"All I see is satsumas." Howard blinked, regaining the power of speech.
"Yeah. It's for a new game I come up with. It's called 'Pelt The Rabbit'. Basically we chase each other around in our pants and throw satsumas, because if the rabbit catches you, he gives you a vigorous bunny bumming."
"... I beg your pardon?"
"Satsuma fight, then sex?" Vince asked hopefully, his tail twitching in anticipation.
Howard swallowed. "Well... You and me?"
"Mm-hm." He was bouncing in place now.
"All right..." Howard said slowly, but the moment Vince relaxed his guard, Howard was grabbing up an armload of satsumas.
"Hey, no fair! You can carry more'n me!" Vince laughed.
"Better beware I don't catch you, then!"
~~~
Bollo woke up to see Naboo stretched out next to him, pipe in hand.
"What Bollo miss?" He asked.
"Oh, you know. Vince made up some kind of game so he and Howard could bum like bunnies. That weird American developed a sexual fascination with King Bainbridge, so he summoned Dennis to chop his head off, but instead he got a blind man... kind of weird. Standard day, really."
"Naboo got more hash?"
"Sure. Come on, then."
~~~
Howard smiled and cuddled up against Vince, feeling the soft fur of one long white ear trapped against his cheek.
"You know, it was my unbirthday too." He said quietly.
"Mm." Vince kicked a little in his sleep.
"That's okay." Howard kissed his head. "I got the best present."
~~~FINIS~~~
~Glas
- Music:Phantom of the Paradise
First, the anecdote-- went to a real mall (my town has... it's nice and all, but miniscule) with sister to help find awards banquet outfit. Since we were already at said mall, we dropped into their Hot Topic. Last time I was in a Hot Topic, they didn't have acid green garters. They do now. If I wasn't trying to save money, I would've had to get me some, because mmm, garters? And in acid green. Anyway, my sister points out that they have a little crinoline skirt to match. And hanging a couple racks over is the standard pink 'tutu' model.
So I say "See, now whenever I see the regular pink tutu-crinoline-skirt-thing, I'm going to think of The Legend of Old Gregg.", just as the loud-ish music stops. And a girl passing by heading to the other end of the store looks at me, out of the corner of my eye I see hers go big and round, and she giggles, grabs her boyfriend, and hisses 'She said Old Gregg!'. As they headed on their way, we heard her say more, but another song started up, so I'm not sure what it was, it sounded sort of like 'That's the thing I like'.
My sister later said 'That's the giggle I associate with girls with Asperger's. Older girls, where you maybe should have outgrown giggling, but when you hear someone mention the thing you like, you do it.'
Fair enough. I squeal and flail whenever my obsesh gets mentioned by someone. Or if I see something tangentially related in a shop... After the girl and her boyfriend moved on, I said 'Of course, I don't want the tutu any less. I still *want* it.' (Plus, when the thing you're into is cultish or an import, and hasn't hit it big yet, you squeal/giggle twice as loud when a stranger actually knows it, because hey, come on.)
Anyway, my e-mail's weird and acting up and whatnot, so I want to get some unbeta-ed fic up on my personal journal now, but hopefully when I get back home after Oregon, I can get it finished, beta-ed and posted on the haven. I just don't have quite a week before I go...
Title: Emopress
Chapter The First
Rating: I'll say R to be safe, though chapter one not so much.
Summary: Howard discovers the reason for Vince's recent behaviour.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nothing is.
Author's Note: Set just post s3. Concrit is greatly appreciated on this one, since as I mentioned, this is the un-beta-ed trial run (which I haven't actually done before) of a fic I would like to have polished before submitting to the comm, but may have to wait until I get back from hols to be able to send it off and have it actually go through.
( chapteronechapteronechapteroneoneone... )
- Music:W*O*L*D- Harry Chapin
Fandom: Number Three
Pairing: Pairing Three
Summary: As always, guess the couple/fandom for fabulous prizes! (erm, or something.) Clearly I've given up on cuts at this point...
Disclaimer: I can't tell you who they belong to, but I can tell you I'm not it
I hate to see him down. Down is a place I'm well accquainted with. Down in a gutter, usually, and more often than not with a bottle in my hand. Sometimes a sandwich in the other hand. Sometimes I wake up and a dog is eating my sandwich. Where was I?
Right. I hate to see him down, and I wouldn't have to, if he didn't aim high. You can't aim high. The world ducks every time you do. If aiming high got you anyplace good I wouldn't have this scar on my ass.
I wouldn't have to see him down if I didn't hang around, and I wouldn't hang around if he didn't make me feel nice, happy, wanted, in a way I haven't felt in a long time.
And he's a good lookin' fella, there is that. Tall, dark, and handsome. I'm not particularly short, I mean, I'm respectable in terms of height if not much else. I don't tan, though, which is inconvenient, what with the climes being as they are. I'm nebbishy. It's not ugly, but it sure ain't handsome.
What I am isn't important. I mean, it hasn't been in a while. The only thing I am that's important now is, I appear to be the only friend this poor sap's got, and sure, it's a darn shame, but what are you gonna do? Rome wasn't built in a day.
I wonder if you could build a city in a day?
No, probably not.
And really, under what bizarre circumstances would you really need to?
I mean, maybe the circumstances could come up, but it isn't likely.
Where was I?
Him.
Handsome devil, even if no one much cares to notice but me.
Nice smile, easy laugh. Great guy.
So... I may be sticking around. If he gets kicked to the ground... well, the ground and I are pretty well accquainted, like I said. I don't mind taking the fall with him.
~~~FINIS~~~
- Music:I'm Tired
1) Glas (or more accurately, Glas' sister) got good news today. Her entry in the screenplay category of the Kay Snow writing contest took first. We celebrated by going to The Duke of Windsor. It's a train that's been refurbished into a pub/restaurant. We eat in the back of the caboose. It's right next to still-running railroad tracks, so sometimes a train will roar by the window, and it's got awesome decor and authenticness. Didn't get shepherd's pie this time, probably next time.
2) Of course, because we went out, we had to tape Sad Thursday, so tomorrow we'll watch that. Also tomorrow we need to watch Mental because it's an episode about an autistic girl. Girls are so under-represented, because we make up about a quarter of the people on the autism spectrum, so when someone autistic shows up on telly, it's always a boy.
3) I'm still talking about the Boosh on Jimmy Fallon. My poor family... luckily I've converted them all, if they weren't also fans, they'd be real sick of hearing about it. But I can't help myself. If, unlike me, you have some sembelance of a social life, a love life, even, think about the feeling you get from being around someone you love. That is the feeling the Boosh sets off in me. It triggers that part of my brain instead of the 'I like TV' part.
FIVE THINGS ABOUT GLAS THAT AREN'T TRUE
Okay, here is where I dispell commonly held misbeliefs about me.
1) GlasgowSmiles is British
California born and raised and still-residing-in. But because I grew up with British tv and literature, I tend to speak and spell in a distinctly un-American way. This is not just an Internet misconception, I get it in RL, too. Because I'm a master of dialects? Because I never did the pledge of allegiance in school? Because I actually know history? Maybe a little bit of all of those. I actually kind of didn't want to dispell this one, because I really enjoy being mistaken for a Brit. I think my soul is British...
2) GlasgowSmiles is a man
This one is pretty much just over the internets. It's because the email I almost always use was once a shared account, and for some reason it still says stuff from me is from 'David'. Although I have been told I (and I quote) "shop like a man". Okay, once I was mistaken for a man in RL, but it was hallowe'en and I had a false beard, so at the time I was flattered. I've done guy parts in theatre a couple of times, it's fun.
3) GlasgowSmiles is a lesbian
Obviously this belief is not held by the same people who think I'm a man. It's probably not held by very many people, since it doesn't take a long time of knowing me for people to learn about my love of hot man-on-man action... But because I don't just love the hotness of man-love, but also the social equality thing, one of my friends from theatre invited me to join the campus gay club. Now, I'm not the only straight friend who's been welcomed in, but because I didn't introduce myself by saying 'Oh by the way I'm straight', there's no way for people to tell unless it comes up. Also, for a long time, most of my friends were straight guys, so I had to get used to being able to frankly discuss whether or not certain girls were hot. Since I'm pretty comfortable with myself, I don't have a problem with it, and I'm pretty good at being one of the guys. This one's really not a problem unless one of the girls ever develops an interest in me, in which case I will have to awkwardly explain my sexual orientation. Well, most of the girls I already knew from theatre know. It may never actually come up, in which case, all is cool.
4) GlasgowSmiles is forty.
Or thereabouts. This one crops up online occasionally because I love old TV shows and have a sense of history, including recent history, so I can come off as having 'been there'. Unfortunately, this also crops up in RL. I am forever being mistaken for twice my age. One friend first thought I was middle aged, but the first time she saw me was in the theatre, and I was in old age makeup and white spray-on dye, so she was still taking me for younger than my character, and when she saw me out of makeup, she didn't make the same mistake. But other people think I'm old. If I'm with my dad and my mom's not with us, little old ladies in grocery stores ask if my husband can reach the top shelf for them. NO ONE EVER APOLOGIZES TO ME. If it's the thing with my dad, they say to him 'you should be flattered, you look so young', but they never apologise to me! If I'm with my sister (two years younger than me)/brother (six years younger) and someone mistakes me for the mom, still no apology. They'll say my sister 'looks so young!' (she does-- she gets upset about being mistaken for fifteen. I'd like to have a problem like that...). Or they'll just shrug like 'honest mistake'. No, sir, it is not! I am twenty four, and just once, I'd like someone to realize that.
5) GlasgowSmiles is a functioning member of society
You'd think I'd be pleased about this one. I mean, sure, of course it's nice to be mistaken for functioning, but sometimes the way people do it PISSES ME OFF. Okay, backstory: I have Asperger's Syndrome. Thanks largely to being involved in the theatre for years, I have gained the ability to 'pass', and to read facial expressions, because I learned them in a classroom setting. But people who are meeting me now, who didn't know me in middle school, when they learn that I'm on the autism spectrum, often say 'I couldn't tell! You seem so normal!', and I just want to scream. There is no 'face' of autism like there is with many other syndromes/disorders. And even if I didn't hate the word normal, I hate that it's just... It takes so much WORK. When I go out and speak about what it's like to be on the autism spectrum, and people have, like, Rain Man in mind and I seem like a 'normal' young woman, I understand how that's not what you think when you hear 'autism', but it takes a lot of effort for me to do that, to fake eye contact, to be in a crowd of people I might not know, to have to speak as myself instead of as a character in a play, to not 'look autistic', whatever that means. But being able to 'pass' for an afternoon's panel discussion is not the same as functioning in life, which I cannot do, but because I am so 'high-functioning', it is tremendously hard to get services. I wasn't diagnosed until after I was out of school, but there are kids who are less high-functioning than I was being told they're 'not autistic enough' for services, which is a denial of FAPE, but argh. Anyway.
That's me.
- Music:some MeatLoaf, some Weird Al, The Devil Went Down To Georgia
My ability to use photobucket for the purpose of crappy photo 'edits' hath wrought this... and that's the extent of what I can do, so I still don't have a Surprise Buttsecks Boosh icon... which I totally need now. But the sparkly text does make me smile... Anyway, if by some bizarre twist of fate someone happens upon this and wants to gank it, they have my full permission to do whatever with it.
- Music:Dance In My Pants- Jim Steinman
On Jimmy Fallon. I died. Seriously, my sister will attest, I was spasming randomly throughout the interview and making strange, high-pitched fangirlish sounds.
1) So cute how, when Julian was doing his 'coming atcha' thing, Noel was watching him with this huge grin that said 'This guy! How can you not love this guy? I am not now and will probably never be tired of this!', adorable!
2) I NEED someone to make me a Surprise Buttsecks icon now. Seriously, Boosh fen, gah! 'We make love, occasionally' 'We surprise each other'?
3) Hee, a few fans in the audience. We loved how some people went wild at the Jacquettie mention. And then Fred Armisen and Jimmy both got in on the act! And, dancing in my seat, singing under my breath, aware that my sister knows I'm crazy, so did I. I'm just glad that I got her into the Boosh, because if she wasn't a fan and I did all this, I'd be in for the eye-rolling of a lifetime.
4) I'm not surprised Jimmy went with Old Greg in terms of clips. Even having seen it fairly recent-like, we LOLed. We also LOLed at Jimmy trying to explain the clip. And then Noel jumping in and adding to the description of Old Greg. Anyone in the audience not hip to the Booshy style must have been quite confused...
5) In a rare, non-Boosh related portion of my reaction to the show, I'm sad that Jimmy didn't make Fred Armisen say 'Bubble Bobble'. I mean, come ON, missed opportunity.
6) I am still on such a high from the Boosh. I want Noel's shirt, I want to wear a shirt like that. I would wear it all the frickin' time. Neck ruffles get me hot. I'm like a romantic poet, except for the whole skill at poetry thing. Oh, and except for the torrid affairs. Okay, I'm a crap romantic poet, but I go moist over blouses with ruffles at the neck. I'm also on said Boosh high because, glee! My local Target's got s1 DVDs.
7) I'm not saying I'd fight a bear for a copy of the book, but I am saying, if I saw a guy in a bear suit carrying The Mighty Book Of Boosh, he might want to start running. What I'm saying is, I'm insane. But I live in an almost-civilized area where there are no bears. I've lost track of what I was saying...
8) Oh, right; I NEED a Surprise Buttsecks icon. Seriously, if someone makes this for me, I will reward them. With fic, I imagine. It's kind of my currency.
And, still on the topic of Boosh, but not at all on the topic of the Jimmy Fallon show, so I'm stopping the whole numbering thing, I've finished one big fic project (at least for now-- I may come back to the noir-verse in future) and am looking at what to do next. I have a multitude of plot-bunnies, and I've started on quite a few of them, but I don't know what I want to pursue...
There's the Thing A Week project, which is mostly drabbles, but eventually there is a full-length fic in that. It's not AU-ish, except for the Mirror, Mirror story that falls in there.
There's The Phantom of The Onion, which is NOT a Phantom of the Opera parody, but is an AU. It has a healthy amount of Bollo. I've got the beginning down.
There's Emopress, which deals with Vince's slide into complete dickishness, and is getting a bit dark but does end with fluff.
There's one with no title that's an amnesia fic. I have bits and pieces written and I just need to string them together and pad them out.
There's a sequel to the depressing AU I did where Vince (and all the adventuring) was largely a product of Howard's imagination (Because I wanted to give him some less depressing closure, and because I am severely in love with my Alternate Character Interpretation of that version of Howard).
And I am working on an idea for another detective adventure, but that's not going to be my next fic.
(Also, eventually, somewhere, in a Boosh fic, I want to use the line 'This is why we can't have nice things, Vince. We are not getting another automatic dishwasher. A fizzy bath bomb is not an acceptable substitute for washing-up powder')
- Mood:
bouncy
Title: Too Darn Hot
Author: Glasgowsmiles
Summary: Um, not sure yet... we'll see what it turns into, I guess. And yes, before you ask, the AC at Glas' has been on the fritz...
The air conditioning was deaddeaddead and the apartment was boiling. Eddie was languishing on the couch (I like that word, languishing), clean cotton sheet spread out to keep him from sticking to the leather. I was contemplating wetting a towel, wringing it out, rolling it up for a pillow and just lying on the stone tile floor of the kitchen. It was clean enough to eat off of, cooler than any of the furniture.
"Fix it." I moaned instead. I would have to get up to carry out the towel and tile plan.
"What gave you the impression I could?" He cracked one eye open to glare at me.
It was a good question. He's never mentioned any sort of HVAC expertise. I don't think he's ever changed a tire, either.
"You do other stuff."
Another withering one-eye glare. "Why don't you fix it?"
I snorted. "I don't fix things. I break things, on occasion. I don't fix things. Besides, it's your apartment."
"I called the super. I left a message. We are in the middle of a heat wave."
"A tropical heat wave?"
A withering glare so fierce as to merit the opening of both eyes and a slight turning of the head. "Don't even start, I am in no mood, it is too hot for this."
"She started the heat wave, by making her seat wave, she certainly can..." I crooned, off-key and lilting, wilting with the heat. "Can-can..."
"Too hot."
"Too darn hot."
He smacked his forehead, hand sliding over his face, smearing the layer of sweat that wouldn't evaporate in the muggy heat.
"According to the Kinsey report, every average man you know--"
"What do you know of average?"
"Much prefers to play his fav-o-rite sport when the temp-er-a-ture is low, but when that thermometer starts to rise and the weather is sizzling hot, Mr. Adam for his madam, is not..."
"When the air conditioner gets fixed, remind me to kill you. Slowly."
"Tsch. Like that could ever happen."
"You don't think I could kill you slowly? I, unlike some people, have impulse control."
"I don't think you could kill me at any speed. For one thing, if you could, you would've done it by now."
"I may have to concede that point." He said.
"Do you ever feel like... like there's a big gaping hole in the world where extradimensional beings watch us the way we watch cartoons and soap operas? Or, do you ever feel like, maybe the universe as we know it is static, and all our conversations are happening in the gutters, and there's no movement at all, just a sequence of images and moments, and the only thing that's real is--"
"No one feels like that." He interrupted. "Ever."
"Squirrel Girl." I said.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I'm going to pretend you haven't said anything today."
"In cement up to your nose," I said. "It's quieter that way. I swear, if you were real, I'd divorce you."
He moaned again and rolled onto his front, then onto his back again. "That's it."
"Coming to kill me?" I yawned, stretched, slid out of my chair and onto the floor. Hardwood, cool and smooth, if not as cool as the tile in the kitchen.
"Stripping." He tossed his shirt off. It hit me in the face. Black, the word 'GUESS' inside a triangle. Slacks followed, these he folded neatly and placed on a chair. "Here, give me the shirt."
"Meh, let it go."
"No, give it to me." He padded over to take it, folding it and putting it with the slacks.
"You can't even melt right." I teased. I'd been wearing nothing but my underwear all day. "Too hot to clean."
He flopped back onto the couch.
...
and then possibly I write more later? I never know with these pieces of things. I always say 'Oh, I'm going to expand this!', and then I never do... so I won't say anything for certain.
- Music:The Carny- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds/White Room- Cream
Fandom: Number Two
Pairing: Pairing Two
Summary: As always, guess the couple/fandom for fabulous prizes! (erm, or something.) The other half of number 5.
Disclaimer: I can't tell you who they belong to, but I can tell you I'm not it
"So... I bought a house." I said, feeling unaccountably nervous. Nervous was a thing I tried not to feel, barring the pressure of hellhounds on my trail. Nervous was for other people.
He nodded, noncommital little smile in place, his eyes still on his book.
"You know, a little place." I continued. I absolutely refused to say 'cottage', even if that was what the real estate woman called it. "In South Downs."
"That's nice. I must say, it's hard to imagine, though. Don't tell me you're tired of the city?" He looked up.
I shrugged. "It's got a library. Shelves are all built-in. It's, um... it's about sized for two. I was just thinking, now that you've got that shop girl working and nothing really personal about the place, well, what's tying you here?"
"Was that an invitation?""
"Maybe." I looked away.
I heard his chair scrape across the floor, felt the strange warmth and lightness of him coming to stand next to me. "That's awfully sweet of you, dear... I mean, I'm not really sure..."
"I should mention, the, erm, the built-in shelves... I haven't got too many books at present, but I... thought they deserved something impressive, you know? So I did buy a couple rare editions, you know, classics."
"Well it's very tempting, but I don't know if I could leave the place... even if, as you say,"
"I don't like it." I interrupted.
"Your house? Well, whyever did you buy it?"
"No, you, here. After the-- the fire." My chest felt tight.
He laughed. "Don't be silly, everything's all right. I wasn't even here when it happened. And if I had been, it's not as though--"
"But I thought you were! I thought you were, and I *worried* about you!"
For a moment, he just blinked. The tightness in my chest clenched like a fist.
"Worried?" This time his laugh was more awkward. "About me? Well that's just ridiculous, why would you--"
"Well, I shouldn't!" I stormed over to the other side of the room. "I shouldn't worry, I shouldn't care. I shouldn't think about you every time I go to the theatre or a museum, I shouldn't immediately go to 'our' bench at the park, I shouldn't have an 'our' table, I shouldn't have an 'our' song, I shouldn't even speak to you! There shouldn't be an 'us', but there is, and there's no going back on that after everything that's-- There's no going back on it."
"You know, I go to that bench even when I don't expect to meet you there." His hand fell to my shoulder.
"So do I." I shrugged.
"Tell the truth... are we really lucky every time we get 'our' table?"
"No." I chuckled. "I cheat. You tell me the truth--"
"Don't I always?"
"You're just as bad as me, right?"
"Oh, I'm awful."
I turned. He was smiling warmly, head tilted slightly. He reached up and took my sunglasses. I reached over and took his spectacles.
"Don't know why you bother with these, you don't need 'em." I tucked them in my pocket.
"They just sort of fit with the image."
We stood there like that, looking into each other's naked eyes. If I stared long enough, the glamour dropped, his un-glamourous glamour, so that I saw his eyes as they really were. Every colour and no colour at once, filled with light, with something that broke your heart. It was the nearest thing I'd ever be able to come to going Home again. I touched his face, my other hand going to his waist.
"The shelves are built in, you say?" He breathed.
"Yes."
"I would very much like to move in with you."
I leaned in to press my forehead against his. "You make me... happy." I admitted.
"You make me want to make an effort." He murmured. Our lips brushed. I moved in for the kiss.
Yes... he was like coming Home. He was better.
- Music:Spongebob Squarepants!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcwAymlCB
This right here?
This was probably the birth of a million fetishes. Seriously, who greenlit this as a children's film? I would like to sincerely thank them. I mean, I would have been a messed up little kidling regardless, but mm, honey.
If the voice of Snidely Whiplash ever sends you to your bunk, may I put forth the hypothesis that this is the reason? I just wish we could see all of the costumes name-dropped... still, the devoted cadre of well-choreographed manservants is lovely, even if they don't fit Conrad Horst with a corset or a bodice.
- Music:Do-Mi-Do Day (and some sexy Depeche Mode afters)
Went to see The Wiz tonight. Erm, technically last night. Woah, it got late!
Anyway, it was really good. The guy who played the Scarecrow was dance captain when I was in the chorus for Kiss Me, Kate, so there was someone I knew. Everyone in it was good, a lot of people were great, he was *fabulous*. Then again, the Scarecrow is pretty much the best role as far as dancing goes, and he's probably the best dancer I know. He's at least the best male dancer I know...
It's really weird, but there are a lot of things in The Wiz that are closer to the books than (the film) The Wizard Of Oz. Like the green glasses, the silver shoes, Glinda being the good witch of the SOUTH.
The production I saw had some modern twists, but it kept the old-school funky feeling of the orig., and it was way fun. Well, okay, light and sound could have been tweaked for the better, but performance-wise, costume-wise, makeup-wise, it was all fantastic.
Also, random childhood memory: I'm kinda realizing just how much of an impact the world of Oz has had on me. The original film, of course. A biopic on Baum (made for TV? I don't know... I remember watching it, but... does anyone know what I'm talking about?), Return To Oz had a HUGE impact on me. And of course, having the books read to me at a very young age. It's the books I had the RCM about; I remember listening to the Oz books and in my mind, wild imaginings spinning out from there. Mostly the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. In my mind, it was pretty much all about them. This was before I had any idea whatsoever about sex, and very little concept of romance, but when I look back, it was clearly a proto-romantic relationship I was making up stories about. Was this really my first foray into what would someday become the sordid little world of slash writing? There was a lot of hugging in my stories, and a lot of pulling-each-other-out-of-danger.
I totally 'ship them now. (confession time: still haven't seen Tin Man-- taped it, lost the tapes. Eventually we'll probably rent it at Blockbuster or something) Anyway, in ALMOST every incarnation, I ship them. Don't know about Tin Man 'til I see it. I mean, I expect to, just because, come on. They seem to be my first OTP.
There was a totally slashy little moment in the production of Scarecrow checking Tin Man out, too.
Wow, it was really nice being in the audience... The only times I get to be in the audience, I'm ushering or ADing, or have laryngitis. I never get to just watch for fun. But I wouldn't want to be in the audience too often, I get all itchy to be a part of things.
- Mood: cheerful
- Music:Return To Oz- Scissor Sisters (coincidence, I swear!)
"Poor devil," I pushed his hair back from his forehead.
He glared at me.
"You don't have to say anything." I sighed, standing. "I do know a nightmare when I see one, you know, and it's no use making that face. Do you want tea?"
He stretched and rolled his neck, all sinuous movement. "I'd rather wine, if you have it."
"I'm out."
"I'll find some." He growled.
"You won't at this hour."
He gave me an incredulous look.
"Fine, fine. Do what you like. You know, I didn't invite you over so you could fall asleep on my couch and then proceed to make faces at me and spurn my generous offers of tea and sympathy."
He trudged across the room and leaned into me, his forehead on my shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're an angel and I don't know why you put up with me, fine. Now are you going to get drunk with me or not?"
"You know why I put up with you." I smiled. I moved in to kiss his temple, but he snapped his head up, lips meeting mine.
"Ha." He grinned. "Caught you."
"You sneak." I pushed him back over to the couch and put the radio on. "Sit down, I'm making tea."
"There's a bottle of red in your pantry, it's from me."
I let the tea go for the time being and found the wine he mentioned, which I didn't remember him bringing in, but then, 'twas ever his way... He had his knees tucked up under his chin when I came back with the glasses.
"What was it this time?" I asked.
"Oh, you know."
I had a feeling I did. Even if I was wrong, I didn't need to make him say it. Poor dear's damaged his pride enough past couple of days, I suppose. His reputation. Everything, really.
"It'll all be all right." I patted his hand.
"Did you just lie to me?"
"I did not." I huffed. "I don't lie."
He smirked sideways at me before draining his glass.
"I didn't. I mean, it will be. It has to be. Everything will turn out for the best, because that's what things do."
"Not for me."
"Pish tosh. Things are always turning out for you."
"Maybe not this time."
I topped his glass off. "We are living in the best of all possible worlds. It's a depressing thought sometimes, I'll grant you, but in the end, everything goes according to plan."
"Not your plan. Not my plan."
"I don't make plans." I said. "Well, dinner plans, budgeting, that sort of thing, but I don't make big plans." I waved an airy hand. "That sort of thing is just... taken care of."
"Seriously." He put his glass down and scooted towards me, not quite touching. "Why do you put up with me?"
"I told you Saturday last." I felt the disturbing need to blush about this. "I just-- do. I mean, I like you. We get on. We... Things between us are... Comfortable. And you're not really so bad, and I'm not really so, I don't... You know, this isn't so easy when we might not die at any second!"
He threw his head back and laughed. Laughed! After all this fuss and moodiness, he laughs.
"That's true." He leaned against me again. "I don't even remember what I said... I remember it was cool."
I rolled my eyes. "You would remember you said something cool regardless. That's mental editing."
"No, I was really cool."
"Some things... Things like us... Well, we don't really need explaining, do we? Just between us we don't."
"Or can't we be explained?"
"Some things can't be." I said. My voice came out in a sort of a whisper, and I realized our faces were very close again.
The Forces' Sweetheart was on-- we registered the still-playing music at the same time, and to my surprise a small smile curled at his lips.
"Our homeward tread, was just as light, as the tapdancing feet of Astaire..." He murmured.
"I thought your tastes ran more modern."
"This one makes me think of you." He shrugged. "Don't even as me why, all right?"
"All right." I slid my arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.
No, some things can't be explained. And some things don't need to be.
~Glas
- Music:It's All Been Done- Barenaked Ladies
Lovers In A Dangerous Time 4
Fandom: Number One
Pairing: Pairing One
Summary: Found it! Ahem, the other half of the couple began in 3. As always, guess the couple/fandom for fabulous prizes! (erm, or something.)
Disclaimer: I can't tell you who they belong to, but I can tell you I'm not it
Hot summer night... I looked over to the bed, to his long pale body stretched out naked. The sheets provided a tiny swathe of modesty. One arm twisted elegantly up towards the pillow.
The inside of one forearm has a scar, small and pale, a slight curve of raised skin he's never given me the backstory on.
I have one, almost the exact same shape, different place. It wasn't long after I got it a fellow patient likened it to a sickle. A freckle on his arm makes his a question mark.
There are other freckles, one behind his ear, one more on his hip, a triangle on the back of one shoulder and another cluster of three on the calf, just under the knee. His sweat-lank hair flops ack, his face tensed even in sleep. He's always tense when he sleeps, it's entirely possible he's never relaxed in his life. Funny we'd wind up together. I could connect the dots but nothing would come of it.
My dog-eared Archie McPhee catalog lay on the bed, half under the Puzzler Variety, acrostics up for grabs if I want them. There's a domesticity that should chafe, but instead I just think, there's a clean bed and a hot meal if I want it, a place to lie around until I heal up and maybe after.
I remember when I came home, limping heavily, torn off shirtsleeve wrapped around my ankle.
"Dog bite?" He'd asked.
"Something like."
And that's when he'd given me the Puzzler Variety he'd been flipping through and started cleaning up the wound. "Do you like acrostics?"
"Do I what?" I'd had other things on my mindnumbingpain mind. Ankle. At the time.
"I've finished. If you like acrostics, they're yours, or if you don't I can go ahead and fill them in," He'd waved his pen. "Throw the whole thing out. Either way, but I hope you like them, because you'll be staying off this for a while. Seriously, what happened?"
"I went to get some stuff back. From an ex." I grimaced. "Let's just say... ugh, let's just say as little as possible. The words 'sic 'im' came into play." Though it was the accompanying giggles that really gnawed.
"Poor baby. Anyway, here's the acrostics. Sorry I filled out the cryptograms and the crosswords. And the logic squares. There might be a word search, I usually skip those."
"Mm. Do we have food?"
"Stuffed peppers, they'll be ready in a while. I'll get you something to drink and dig up some aspirin."
Stuffed peppers... see, how do you say no to a guy who stuffs food into other food for you? Food stuffed into other food is my favourite!
Over on the shelf, under the stereo, his hoity-toity classical music sits next to the best of Dr. Demento. By the TV, Cube, Pi, and Memento share shelf-space with Bad Taste and The Aristocrats. The bookshelf is worse, incomprehensible titles like 'Godel, Escher, Bach' where I read for fun, light stuff, humour or horror, but nothing mentally taxing. It's looking at our stuff that makes me think we're crazy for this, and then, of course, I look at me and I have to laugh, because of course I am. And then I look at him, and yeah, we're both crazy, good it's not just me. Looking at our stuff side by side makes me wonder what made us think it could be a good idea, this him-and-me, but looking at him... I forget why I asked.
He turned over in his sleep, letting the cieling fan cool off his back. His bare ass turned up, round and white...
"I'd like to sink my teeth into you..." I growled.
"Too hot." He chucked my pillow at me.
I studied the line of his back from my spot on the chaise at the foot of the bed, and put the pillow under my ankle.
"Yeah, yeah. Sweet dreams, cupcake."
Well... might as well see if I like acrostics...
- Music:Mack The Knife- Louis Armstrong
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