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[a Tuesday in May.] |
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mood |
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Three bucks says the three hotshots of the lecture are Ducklings next season at PPTH...I mean, they're listed in the credits as "Caring Student" (Cameron, anyone?), "Rebellious Student" and "Keen Student". Oi. Spell it out a little louder, cheerleaders.
(I digress; I cried when Jimmy, Allie, Bobby, Ricky and Lisa all filed in slowly to listen to what we all knew we'd hear one day.)
And please note - was Stacy cheating on her husband with Wilson, or was that just my understanding?
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[a Wednesday in March.] |
This week's episode of House had me tied in knots on the floor with the whole knock-down-a-duckling game.
i consider it in this manner, for easier, less biassed opinion:
if one of the CSIs were to go, which would it be?
the answer is easily Nicky or Warrick. Equal in playing ground, though they'd each be missed sorely.
how does this help decide which duckling House will let go (if, and I doubt he will, he does let one go.)
If House is the equivalent to Grissom, Willows to Cuddy since her 'promotion' in season 5, then Sidle is like Cameron, and Chase is like Sanders in that they are both slightly lower-end (due to Chase's intensive care position - don't get me wrong, I'd see him gone last of the three without batting an eye.), leaving Foreman and Wilson as Brown and Stokes (respectively, since Wilson and Stokes have similar heroic-persona tendancies) and thus, Brown and Stokes being the most likely candidates for pink-slips, and Stokes' House-equivalent not being a duckling and thus not being an option, Foreman is (by my estanged deductive logic) the one who will be going.
But, who am I kidding? 'Rick's not leaving Vegas anytime soon.
Other trains to hijack:
1. Foreman's already threatened to leave. Threatening him to leave is slightly redundant. 2. Chase commited an offence against House. Naturally, House should fire him. Audiences don't like predictability. Conclusion: Cameron's going.
And, what, leave only one woman on the show? It's doubtful. So back to the CSI theory.
My head's spinning.
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| ryndy ficlet, A |
[a Wednesday in January.] |
I had sort of a weird conversation tonight, and then, while watching the OC, Sandy told Ryan he looked good with a shiner, and...you know what? It would have strangled me had it not gotten out.
And those two thoughts were so unrelated they take eight degrees. *chews nails* Hope you like it, damnit.
Furthermore, I shall get you back, you know who you are, and I'll confuse you SO terribly you'll forget your name - both of them - and just let me think of a Plan and Get Back to You. *evil grin*
Decimal, Quiet and Scheming.
You had him in handcuffs – bad, in a good way – and his tanned, muscled body looked so undone beneath you.
( &c. )
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[a Tuesday in January.] |
Perhaps the reason I love poetry is because I can be as transparent, as see-through, as naked as I like with my thoughts and still, those words and imageries will mean something else to everyone. This thing I wrote a handful of nights back...it isn't a favorite, but it's a thought-through sort of cute.
( Trial )
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| three poems, K |
[a Friday in January.] |
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music |
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WHEN THINGS WAS CHEAP!!! - Mike Mills <333 |
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I've never posted poems here before. These aren't morbid or about stupid or cheesy things, however, so I figured I may as well show you. There are three - one and three are related, the second is about something else entirely. Thank you, REM, for the contribution of 'cartoon smile' to the second. They're all short, by the by, more so than normal. Yes. I hope you enjoy them.
( Foxhunt, Your Fashion )( One-oh-Three Frequency )( Not a Love Poem )
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| ryndy ficlet, K+ |
[a Tuesday in January.] |
I can’t listen to Aftermath and do anything else, function; this song, it makes me cry, dear lord I want to marry you, Michael.
Needlevoice (The Links Deleted Ending)
Sandy, still a little drunk, had woken to find his wife asleep beside him. Three in the morning; he yawned groggily and opted for a salted bagel. It was in the kitchen that he’d found Ryan, sitting at the island with his head in his hands.
He’d tried to be stealthy, tried not to make a noise, but he’d tripped on his feet and Ryan had looked up with a start. His eyes were tired, and slight imprints of fingertips on his cheeks and forehead told everything. “Hey,” was all he said, and even that was tired, scratched but hoping.
Sandy was in no state to consider seriously the effects of his comments. One goofy grin, slight tilt of the head, “Hey, Ryan, love,” and the younger man knew he was drunk; he got up to make his way to bed when Sandy pushed up back down to the chair and stood next to him.
“You,” and again Ryan thought Sandy’s speech was surprisingly clear, “look like you need a good fuck.”
Ryan almost smirked, almost said, “Yeah, well, my girlfriend’s off doing just that with Oliver,” but he didn’t. He stared. And Sandy grinned a little wider, little more feral. “Let’s get you into bed.”
When Sandy leaned down, kissed the corner of his lips so lightly Ryan could have imagined it, all the fears and troubles and angers flashed before him and later, when Ryan thought back on this moment, he would swear it was the aftermath of such hotwired emotions that attributed to his next move. He hated Marissa for not hating Oliver; hated Seth for having Anna and Summer; hated himself for hating Kirsten for being married to Sandy and as he thought this he was kissing Sandy, fingers gripping his shirt and tearing at the older man’s lips.
They almost made it to the poolhouse, it was close, though at the time perhaps they were thankful they didn’t drown themselves in the pool by accident. Clothes were thrown into the flowerbeds, the water, the bushes, and Sandy, thinking back on this night, would always wonder where Ryan had learned to take it so very well.
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| ryndy ficlet, K+ |
[a Monday in January.] |
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music |
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favorite writer -- rem |
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I think I've avoided posting this long enough...For Hank, because she makes me love shows I refuse to let anyone else know I love in the first place. You either bring out the best or worst in me, I haven't figured it out, though judging by last night, I have an inkling it's the latter...*snerk* Anyway, I'll ditch the melo act, and here's the RYAN/SANDY!!! ps. No one else has a right to tell me that's I've fucked the original script. I know that, don't you worry. pps. Hi Mike. You're so the reason I'm in over my head, here, love, you and your Orange County childhood.
Things of Wonder
Ryan flipped through the pages of Sky Captain; walking to the kitchen, he was glad he wasn’t on his way to the cotillion. Opening the door, he saw Sandy – relaxed and at ease, food in hand.
“I though you were going,” he heard Sandy comment; all he could stutter was, “Yeah. No.”
The other man smiled warmly. “Me neither!”
“Follow me through the forest,” Sandy was instructing urgently, and Ryan smiled, thinking how involved the Cohen boys got into their video games. They were lost for a while, battling and enjoying newfound company.
“Didn’t feel like going?” It was said in unison. Ryan grimaced, “Not really for me,” and Sandy was nodding, smiling almost shyly. “What?” he kidded, “Waltzing and orchids? What could be more you?”
Ryan laughed and turned to look at the man – their faces were now closer than he’d meant to bring them. His laughter faded and his smile turned awkward; he bit his lip. “Uh – Sandy.” And suddenly he was terrified: looking into this man’s eyes, someone who’d done so much for him, he was sure and unsure all at once, and he almost looked away but found courage to steady his gaze until the courage grew, and then he found his lips against Sandy’s, gentle and strangely unwavering.
It was two seconds before he realized just what he was doing, and started to pull back until he felt lips moving, certain, against his own. It was hard not to freeze up, gasp, or pull away; he wanted this, felt right; he dropped his game controller to the ground and pushed roughly on Sandy’s chest. The movement startled them both, pleased them both – Sandy chuckled into the kiss and Ryan slid his tongue into his mouth, it was a thing of wonder.
They broke apart with Sandy’s fingers tangled in Ryan’s hair, Ryan grabbing Sandy’s undone shirt. Eyeing each other, they smiled, and Ryan leaned in again.
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| house/wilson vignette, K |
[a Wednesday in December.] |
Mentions of a conversation from Fidelity; Wilson gets caught lying.
Something Orange
“Ah. Another new tie,” commented House, and Wilson wasn’t quite sure when he’d looked up from the chart long enough to notice. “Did you have lunch with the nurse again?”
Wilson just looked at him, confused; “What nurse?” and then he remembered the story he’d woven to get House to stop questioning him last week. “Oh,” he said, “the, the nurse. Yeah, we-“
House looked up at him with such a searching look he stopped talking, and couldn’t remember what he was going to say anyway.
“You’re a terrible liar,” House was shaking his head, putting away the chart. “And I’ll figure you out, you know. You can’t hide from me.”
“I await the day,” murmured Wilson, turning to follow House out of the clinic.
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| REM and Hank and Spe ficlet. K+ |
[a Tuesday in December.] |
Originally, only posted on rem100, but liked it well enough to post here, too. It was Hank's idea, lovely as it was, and it's about she and I and out adventures backstage with REM.
Flutterboard, I Carried Songfelt Language
( 1. )
( 2. )
( 3. )
( 4. )
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| HP - SoEU crossover, K |
[a Tuesday in December.] |
Finished.
Seesaw
"I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice bubbled repeatedly after knocking over one poor Klaus Baudelaire. He looked up to see a girl dressed in a simple grey skirt and an oatmeal cardigan, much of which you couldn’t see through her waist-length, bushy brown hair.
He was startled when she stuck out her hand.
( &c. )
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| snack drabble, K+ |
[a Tuesday in December.] |
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music |
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crush with eyeliner -- rem |
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Yes, this story is all over Crush with Eyeliner. And a little bit of it is for Steph, because I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me dressing Sirius up in makeup. Though my secret theory is, this song was written by Mike. For Michael. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.
Maybeline Eyes
Severus. Whether he’s laid out on his bed, fingers laced under his head, legs dropped carelessly over the sides of the mattress, gazing down at a crinkled color photograph; or he’s looking out over the frozen lake, it’s January, and he’s eavesdropping on Potter and Black’s muffled conversation; it never fails to sting.
It was all over school, that Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin once more this year. “Have you seen that boy with eyeliner?” mumbled a Ravenclaw in passing, “he’s the real thing.” Severus licked his lip unconsciously.
In his mind he smiled, Cheshire-like, and planned his unnecessary, meaningless revenge.
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