Es gibt einen Auslander im Parkenlos.
That *should* mean "There's an alien in the carpark" in German, although I got it from a fic so I don't know how reliable that is. I did an assignment today, I'm very proud of myself but then realised it was only 500 words long. I can write a 500 word assignment in my sleep. Hell, I just wrote a 700 word fic in a few minutes. I also did some driving, and called Tom, but that's about the extent of my excitment for the day. Oh yeah, one of my sister Clare's friends likes my hair, even though it's all flippy and seems to have regressed a bit to more green. I felt special.
I may have a slight oral fixation. I have a very odd thing for mouths. I tend to recognise people by their mouths, and have a fascination with which mouths are nice and which aren't. It's weird. I realised this while reading Smile by Gabby Hope. It's good, I liked it.
Here are a couple of fics that I wrote, hope you enjoy :S they were written very fast. The second one, I can't find an archive to put it in. It's annoying, but what can you do? I might actually change the characters. I've got 2 CLex ones going (have no fear, they are still my ultimate OTP) but they're longer and more complicated, and need more time. I'm sorry to non-RPS fans :S These were short and easy.
Easy
It scared him, how easy it would be.
There’d been dozens of times, countless times when it would’ve been so easy. Too easy. So easy it had almost happened. He’d be sitting around in Feet, and Dom would lean in towards him to tell him a joke, and he nearly close the gap and gave in to temptation. Nearly kissed him. And sometimes, they’d be wrestling, and Dom would be laughing above him, with his beautiful, funny face, and he caught himself from bringing Dom’s face down to meet his just in time. Once even in the middle of doing a scene, when Dom had looked at him with concern written all over his face and said “Frodo?” and he’d only just remembered in time that they were filming, and that Dom wasn’t worried, and that he didn’t need to give him a quick kiss to reassure him.
He sighed audibly, now, as he watched Dom’s face contort with real concern. Billy had fallen, he was being seen to by the on-set doctors, and Dominic was scared. Merry separated from Pippin, worried and alone. Sean was tuned in to his tension, of course. Heard him sigh. Leant over, with a hand on the arm and an inquiring glance.
“It’d be so easy,” he whispered to Sean, eyes still on Dom, on his closed face.
“What would, kiddo?”
“Dom.” And suddenly, suddenly Sean understood, and he looked away for a moment so Elijah wouldn’t see the smile flicker across his face. When he turned back, he looked serious and contemplative.
“So why not do it?”
”I can’t. I can’t screw things up.”
“What things?”
”Everything.”
”Is any of everything worth not taking the risk?” Elijah looked up into Sean’s patient eyes, and realised that he was right. As always, he was right. He sighed again.
“But once we start, it’ll be so hard.” An arm snaked around his shoulders, a chin on his shoulder. He turned to see Sean’s face centimetres from his, facing Dom, eyes slightly crinkled in a typical amused-Sean smile.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. It can be easy. Go,” the last said with a shove, and Elijah was on his feet. Another sigh, and before he knew it, he was in front of Dom. He crouched down to look up into the worried green eyes.
“Lij.” A nod. And then lips, warm lips on his own, and Lij pulled back and smiled. He smiled, too, and ran his hand through Elijah’s hair, and pulled him back up for another kiss.
Five minutes later, Billy came out to find two of his best mates outside his door, tongues in each other’s mouths for all they were worth. Shot an amused glance at Sean, who had looked up from his magazine as Billy emerged. A quick check to make sure the bandaged wrist wasn’t causing the eldest hobbit too much pain. A shrug. Billy tapped Dom on the shoulder, and then the four of them walked off together, laughing and joking, with Dom and Lij sending each other tiny smiles.
And Lij thought, it was easy. Just like that.
Down
Down a street, another, his heart thumping against his ribcage, suicidal butterflies breaking their wings against the lining of his stomach. He stops, glances to the left, slightly behind him, down a narrow street whose tall white buildings loom over pedestrians, the bright sun bathing the whole scene in painfully bright light. /shouldn’t have drunk so much last night./ His feet sputter to life and soon he’s racing on, past glaring buildings and bemused pedestrians. Comes around the corner, still running through the terrifyingly foreign streets, desperately searching for something familiar. Wishing he hadn’t left the familiar behind.
A quick glance over his shoulder and the thundering echoes in his ears confirm his fear. Screaming, flocking crowds, seemingly made almost entirely of teenage girls with military training follow closely on his heels. They screech like vultures as he turns another corner, down another footpath, dodging and swerving in desperate attempts to escape. No time to look around now, or find his bearings; the hard tarmac rises to meet the soles of his abused feet. It’s all he can do to keep from breaking, sobbing, but the moment won’t allow it. He presses on, panting so hard he imagines he can feel his lungs try to push their way through the needles in his throat and out his lungs with every breath. Nearly runs headlong into a car, swivels to miss another car, he’s in the middle of the road. The lines beneath his feet are white, but the cars take no notice, their headlights like cruel eyes, bumpers like taunting mouths, laughing as they pass.
A pair of hands grabs his shoulders from the front, and he gasps as he’s wrenched into a car, thrown casually across the back seat, touched tenuously by another pair of hands. Instead of the vultures’ claws, pulling at his hair and clothes and scratching his smooth, processed skin, these new hands are soft. Gentle, and probing, and familiar, and he finally risks a glance up; into huge yellow-green eyes creased with fear and concern.
“You okay baby?” a voice mumbles, and tears leak out the corners of his eyes before he can stop them. Now the soft, warm hands are on his back, stroking, comforting, and his face his crushed against a strong chest, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care as he weeps and grabs at the sleek green fabric of his rescuer’s shirt and buries his face as far as he can; everything’s soft, and warm, and caring, in a big, dark limousine with a big, dark bodyguard looking on as inconspicuously as possible. It seems like hours in the same position, until finally his eyes drain of water and there are no more hoarse sobs from his voice. A hand moves to his face, gently insistent, and pushes away as the deep eyes again meet his.
“I’m sorry, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean it. You shouldn’t’ve…” He lifts his hand to the offending mouth and covers it, then raises his own head to meet his saviour’s in a soft, light kiss. He lowers his head to a soft green shoulder; the comforted becomes the comforter, and the hands on his back are now clinging rather than calming. Mumbled apologies muffled by his hair and jagged breaths become the only sounds. One muted “I love you.” Silence.
An hour later Lonnie woke up both sleeping stars as they pulled in at their hotel, Justin spread on top of Lance, long arms entangled and Justin’s head snuggled in the crook of Lance’s neck. He opened the door for them and Justin found himself swept into two pairs of arms as he tumbled out. Joey and JC nearly crushed him; Joey’s big arms suffocated and JC’s bony fingers gripped his hip. Looking over Joey’s shoulder he could see Chris, staring down at his own shuffling feet. He ducked under Joey’s arm he walked over to Chris, tucking a finger under Chris’s chin. Chris’s face was red and blotchy, but still angry. Justin bit his lip, hard.
”I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was arrogant and stupid, and you were right. I’m sorry.” Chris listened, astounded. Justin never apologised, never. He looked to Lance, who just shrugged. Sad realisation dawned as he touched a long scratch down Justin’s arm; they’d hurt him. They’d hurt their golden boy.
“Yeah, me too,” he conceded, giving Justin a rough hug and smacking his lips once to the boy’s, fast, before handing him over to Lance.
”Go, take care of him,” he ordered sternly, ignoring the prickling in his eyes. He waited for the rest of the band to go through the large glass hotel doors before following them in, shoulders stooped, head down.
Well, that's that done. Link of the day is Evil Overlord, Inc. This is where all cheese sandwiches go to learn the tricks of the trade.
Pics of the day are these two from the (don't quote me on this) Sydney premiere of the first LotR movie. And funnies.
( Read more... )
I must answer the alluring siren song of my bed,
Green Queen
PS. This kinda makes all sci-fi fans think, doesn't it? I mean, in our favourite movies or books, we believe the main character but nobody else does...and when this kind of thing happens in real life, we mock them.
That *should* mean "There's an alien in the carpark" in German, although I got it from a fic so I don't know how reliable that is. I did an assignment today, I'm very proud of myself but then realised it was only 500 words long. I can write a 500 word assignment in my sleep. Hell, I just wrote a 700 word fic in a few minutes. I also did some driving, and called Tom, but that's about the extent of my excitment for the day. Oh yeah, one of my sister Clare's friends likes my hair, even though it's all flippy and seems to have regressed a bit to more green. I felt special.
I may have a slight oral fixation. I have a very odd thing for mouths. I tend to recognise people by their mouths, and have a fascination with which mouths are nice and which aren't. It's weird. I realised this while reading Smile by Gabby Hope. It's good, I liked it.
Here are a couple of fics that I wrote, hope you enjoy :S they were written very fast. The second one, I can't find an archive to put it in. It's annoying, but what can you do? I might actually change the characters. I've got 2 CLex ones going (have no fear, they are still my ultimate OTP) but they're longer and more complicated, and need more time. I'm sorry to non-RPS fans :S These were short and easy.
Easy
It scared him, how easy it would be.
There’d been dozens of times, countless times when it would’ve been so easy. Too easy. So easy it had almost happened. He’d be sitting around in Feet, and Dom would lean in towards him to tell him a joke, and he nearly close the gap and gave in to temptation. Nearly kissed him. And sometimes, they’d be wrestling, and Dom would be laughing above him, with his beautiful, funny face, and he caught himself from bringing Dom’s face down to meet his just in time. Once even in the middle of doing a scene, when Dom had looked at him with concern written all over his face and said “Frodo?” and he’d only just remembered in time that they were filming, and that Dom wasn’t worried, and that he didn’t need to give him a quick kiss to reassure him.
He sighed audibly, now, as he watched Dom’s face contort with real concern. Billy had fallen, he was being seen to by the on-set doctors, and Dominic was scared. Merry separated from Pippin, worried and alone. Sean was tuned in to his tension, of course. Heard him sigh. Leant over, with a hand on the arm and an inquiring glance.
“It’d be so easy,” he whispered to Sean, eyes still on Dom, on his closed face.
“What would, kiddo?”
“Dom.” And suddenly, suddenly Sean understood, and he looked away for a moment so Elijah wouldn’t see the smile flicker across his face. When he turned back, he looked serious and contemplative.
“So why not do it?”
”I can’t. I can’t screw things up.”
“What things?”
”Everything.”
”Is any of everything worth not taking the risk?” Elijah looked up into Sean’s patient eyes, and realised that he was right. As always, he was right. He sighed again.
“But once we start, it’ll be so hard.” An arm snaked around his shoulders, a chin on his shoulder. He turned to see Sean’s face centimetres from his, facing Dom, eyes slightly crinkled in a typical amused-Sean smile.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. It can be easy. Go,” the last said with a shove, and Elijah was on his feet. Another sigh, and before he knew it, he was in front of Dom. He crouched down to look up into the worried green eyes.
“Lij.” A nod. And then lips, warm lips on his own, and Lij pulled back and smiled. He smiled, too, and ran his hand through Elijah’s hair, and pulled him back up for another kiss.
Five minutes later, Billy came out to find two of his best mates outside his door, tongues in each other’s mouths for all they were worth. Shot an amused glance at Sean, who had looked up from his magazine as Billy emerged. A quick check to make sure the bandaged wrist wasn’t causing the eldest hobbit too much pain. A shrug. Billy tapped Dom on the shoulder, and then the four of them walked off together, laughing and joking, with Dom and Lij sending each other tiny smiles.
And Lij thought, it was easy. Just like that.
Down
Down a street, another, his heart thumping against his ribcage, suicidal butterflies breaking their wings against the lining of his stomach. He stops, glances to the left, slightly behind him, down a narrow street whose tall white buildings loom over pedestrians, the bright sun bathing the whole scene in painfully bright light. /shouldn’t have drunk so much last night./ His feet sputter to life and soon he’s racing on, past glaring buildings and bemused pedestrians. Comes around the corner, still running through the terrifyingly foreign streets, desperately searching for something familiar. Wishing he hadn’t left the familiar behind.
A quick glance over his shoulder and the thundering echoes in his ears confirm his fear. Screaming, flocking crowds, seemingly made almost entirely of teenage girls with military training follow closely on his heels. They screech like vultures as he turns another corner, down another footpath, dodging and swerving in desperate attempts to escape. No time to look around now, or find his bearings; the hard tarmac rises to meet the soles of his abused feet. It’s all he can do to keep from breaking, sobbing, but the moment won’t allow it. He presses on, panting so hard he imagines he can feel his lungs try to push their way through the needles in his throat and out his lungs with every breath. Nearly runs headlong into a car, swivels to miss another car, he’s in the middle of the road. The lines beneath his feet are white, but the cars take no notice, their headlights like cruel eyes, bumpers like taunting mouths, laughing as they pass.
A pair of hands grabs his shoulders from the front, and he gasps as he’s wrenched into a car, thrown casually across the back seat, touched tenuously by another pair of hands. Instead of the vultures’ claws, pulling at his hair and clothes and scratching his smooth, processed skin, these new hands are soft. Gentle, and probing, and familiar, and he finally risks a glance up; into huge yellow-green eyes creased with fear and concern.
“You okay baby?” a voice mumbles, and tears leak out the corners of his eyes before he can stop them. Now the soft, warm hands are on his back, stroking, comforting, and his face his crushed against a strong chest, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care as he weeps and grabs at the sleek green fabric of his rescuer’s shirt and buries his face as far as he can; everything’s soft, and warm, and caring, in a big, dark limousine with a big, dark bodyguard looking on as inconspicuously as possible. It seems like hours in the same position, until finally his eyes drain of water and there are no more hoarse sobs from his voice. A hand moves to his face, gently insistent, and pushes away as the deep eyes again meet his.
“I’m sorry, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean it. You shouldn’t’ve…” He lifts his hand to the offending mouth and covers it, then raises his own head to meet his saviour’s in a soft, light kiss. He lowers his head to a soft green shoulder; the comforted becomes the comforter, and the hands on his back are now clinging rather than calming. Mumbled apologies muffled by his hair and jagged breaths become the only sounds. One muted “I love you.” Silence.
An hour later Lonnie woke up both sleeping stars as they pulled in at their hotel, Justin spread on top of Lance, long arms entangled and Justin’s head snuggled in the crook of Lance’s neck. He opened the door for them and Justin found himself swept into two pairs of arms as he tumbled out. Joey and JC nearly crushed him; Joey’s big arms suffocated and JC’s bony fingers gripped his hip. Looking over Joey’s shoulder he could see Chris, staring down at his own shuffling feet. He ducked under Joey’s arm he walked over to Chris, tucking a finger under Chris’s chin. Chris’s face was red and blotchy, but still angry. Justin bit his lip, hard.
”I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was arrogant and stupid, and you were right. I’m sorry.” Chris listened, astounded. Justin never apologised, never. He looked to Lance, who just shrugged. Sad realisation dawned as he touched a long scratch down Justin’s arm; they’d hurt him. They’d hurt their golden boy.
“Yeah, me too,” he conceded, giving Justin a rough hug and smacking his lips once to the boy’s, fast, before handing him over to Lance.
”Go, take care of him,” he ordered sternly, ignoring the prickling in his eyes. He waited for the rest of the band to go through the large glass hotel doors before following them in, shoulders stooped, head down.
Well, that's that done. Link of the day is Evil Overlord, Inc. This is where all cheese sandwiches go to learn the tricks of the trade.
Pics of the day are these two from the (don't quote me on this) Sydney premiere of the first LotR movie. And funnies.
( Read more... )I must answer the alluring siren song of my bed,
Green Queen
PS. This kinda makes all sci-fi fans think, doesn't it? I mean, in our favourite movies or books, we believe the main character but nobody else does...and when this kind of thing happens in real life, we mock them.
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