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Here are some of my responses to various comment-memes on lj.
A Dead Girl's Guide To Dating A Shifter (Jessica, True Blood)
"Well, first of all, they exist. Trust me. But ummm, dating a shifter..... in a lot of ways it's just the same as dating a regular boy, except for a couple things:
1.) They make weird noises when they sleep.
2.) Their blood tastes really good - kind of tingly and sharp - so you have to be really careful not to drink too much, or you'll end up having to feed them your blood while you drive to the hospital and then you'll have to try and explain what happened... well, just trust me, you need to be careful.
3.) They're almost as strong as vamps, there are a lot of games you can play were you don't need to worry about holding back - not like that! I mean like, playing tag and kick the can.
I guess... I guess that's all."
Moving Sideways (Ted/Robin, HIMYM)
If Ted didn't know better, he'd think that the fact that he is having more fun with Robin, a dead AC unit, and the worst heat wave of the year than he's had on his last eight dates put together is a sign.
But he does know better.
So while it may look like he has a wide grin on his face as he lies on the kitchen tiles with Robin, eating through the contents of the freezer before the ice cream melts while Robin bitches about the idiots at the power company who didn't realize that maybe when temperatures were spiking every damn person in New York would have their AC cranked and he's telling her it's too hot to rant and fighting for his share of the mint chip, really he knows that this is just part of his period of struggle. Ms Something-hyphen-Mosby is sure to be just around the corner, on the next date, in the next bar, and looking back this will be a lonely little moment before the satisfaction of finding The One.
Robin rolls her eyes and digs out the last bit of cookie dough ice cream with a scrap of Eggo waffle.
This is a low time in your life,Ted reminds himself, leaning over to steal a bite. It may FEEL like the best, but that's just because you haven't met the mother of your future children yet.
Ted has been wrong about things before but that he's sure of. Very, very sure.
A High-Toned Woman Will Make You Walk The Line (Jesse/Rachel, Glee)
Rachel is a talker. A Chatterbox, really, and when she isn't talking, she's singing, and when she isn't singing, she's probably asleep, although even that isn't a sure bet (her adoptive daddies swear she'll sometimes sing while she's dreaming - Broadway standards, mostly, a little Miley Cyrus, and always, always in perfect pitch).
But sometimes, for some things, Rachel can manage to shut up. And if there is ever a time to do so, it would be now, Jesse pressed flat on the bed, his hands gripping the headboard, while she thrusts into him nice and slow.
She'd researched and compared brands and prices and styles, interviewed a selection of lesbians for feedback on their personal preferences before purchasing her dildo and she was quite pleased that she'd decided against one with a vibrator in favor of the sleek, gold silicone one she was wearing now.
Admittedly, she didn't have direct clitoral stimulation, but she couldn't have stood having anything interfere with the sounds Jesse was making, the way he choked for breath, the little gasps he couldn't keep behind his teeth when she twisted her hips.
She stroked his back, admiring the way her nails looked against the sweaty skin of his back. Since the moment Jesse had pulled that book of sheet music down and entered her life, as bold as brass, he'd been leading their dance, guiding their duet. But when they were doing this, when she was making him groan, when he was on prone before her... then the spot light was on her, and she was up-staging Jesse St James.
That Teenage Feeling (Saetan/Sylvia, The Black Jewels Trilogy)
Sylvia was not a girl.
She had ruled for nearly a decade, she had birthed two wonderful, exuberant boys, she had chosen a handful of consorts and learned the mysterious territory of a male's body. She was not a girl.
Yet the more time she spent in Saetan's presence the more she felt herself reduced to a girlhood, dizzy with infatuation for a older man who was not –could not possibly– reciprocate her interest.
At the end of a shopping excursion with Janaelle, Sylvia caught herself leaning towards towards him, just a shade too close. Janaelle was already upstairs, overseeing the placement of the paintings she'd bought from a hole-in-the-wall art gallery. The dusky summer twilight pooled around the open windows, the breeze causing the parlor's curtains to gently sway as she tilted her body towards the High Lord of Hell while they chatted of her search for a new tutor for her youngest, a subject he must have found impossibly inconsequential.
Sylvia realized what she was doing with a start and jerked away from him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to try to cover the motion.
"I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time," she began.
"Do I frighten you?" he asked abruptly, the rudest he'd ever been in her presence.
She blinked at him in shock and then forced her spine straight, lifted her chin. She felt her queen-face settling on her skin, as if she about to pass down an incontestable judgement.
"Quite the opposite, High Lord," she said primly. It took him a minute to realize what she meant. Saetan's eyes widened behind his spectacles.
"Sylvia," he breathed, voice so husky that she felt her legs buckle.
She had a speech all ready, an assurance that her emotions would not cause him any inconvenience but he reached out, brushed her cheek with his long nails, and she quite lost the thread of her thoughts.
"Sylvia," he said again, eyes fixed on her lips and she damned the consequences and grabbed the lapel of his jacket. She tugged him towards her, rising on her toes, her free hand going behind his neck, and kissed him with all the lust that had kept her tossing late into an embarrassingly large number of nights.
He responded immediately, hands sliding over her hips to cup her backside, press her more firmly against him.
The drawing room door opened.
"Lady Sylvia, would you like some refresh...." the butler trailed off as she and Saetan jerked apart like two teenagers caught necking by a parent.
"I'll assume not," Beale said after a scant second and then closed the door behind him.
Ain't Too Proud To Plead (Jesse/Rachel, Glee)
He wakes up in the middle of the night with her voice running like a loop in his head, lyrics overlapping, a duet with only one voice.
And tell you time and time again / I've gotta fly once / and still I dreamed he'd come to me.
She's gotten under his skin and Jesse does what he always does; he pours everything into his work and for the first time, it doesn't work. He doesn't get parts, he doesn't excel, and even he knows why:
His vocals are too passionate, his acting too wooden, and his good looks, well. It's hard to look young and charming when he's living on black coffee and red bull.
He does home for Christmas and Shelby stops by to catch up, cute little baby in a holster across her chest.
"You look like hell," she tells him, and three days later Rachel herself shows up on his door.
When he answers, she looks him up and down, and a small pleased smile crosses her face.
"Did you come here to gloat?" he asks. (Trite dialogue, he thinks.)
"Don't be trite, Jesse," Rachel says, looking smug and virtuous. "My reasons for coming are twofold: as a favor to my biological mother and because I've decided to give you a chance to win me back."
She lifts her chin.
"You think I want you back?" Jesse sneers, and finally, finally he nails it: his voice is amused and cruel and sexy.
Rachel sticks out her chin, gives him the beat of silence, and Jesse steps forward, belts out the opening lines of "Ain't Too Proud To Beg."
And they said that a Vocal Adrenaline boy couldn't pull off a soul number.
Unspoken (Neville/Ginny, Harry Potter)
They have their codes.
Ginny lays three stripes of bacon across her toast and Neville knows that tonight they will be sneaking into the Carrows' office to wreck havoc at three a.m.
Hannah wears her hair in four plaits and he knows that there are four more people interested in the DA.
No one can figure out what Luna's codes are, so Neville keeps an eye on her as much as he can.
Ginny isn't the best at this part of resisting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She sees, but she doesn't understand. To her, the fact that Neville makes sure she always has dittany in her bag is just Neville being a good friend, she doesn't comprehend that it's his way of saying, be careful. She knows that whenever she gets a detention he'll wait for her in the common room until she comes back, no matter how many hours Snape has her scrubbing the tables in his former-classroom, but she doesn't understand that it means, I love you.
A Dead Girl's Guide To Dating A Shifter (Jessica, True Blood)
"Well, first of all, they exist. Trust me. But ummm, dating a shifter..... in a lot of ways it's just the same as dating a regular boy, except for a couple things:
1.) They make weird noises when they sleep.
2.) Their blood tastes really good - kind of tingly and sharp - so you have to be really careful not to drink too much, or you'll end up having to feed them your blood while you drive to the hospital and then you'll have to try and explain what happened... well, just trust me, you need to be careful.
3.) They're almost as strong as vamps, there are a lot of games you can play were you don't need to worry about holding back - not like that! I mean like, playing tag and kick the can.
I guess... I guess that's all."
Moving Sideways (Ted/Robin, HIMYM)
If Ted didn't know better, he'd think that the fact that he is having more fun with Robin, a dead AC unit, and the worst heat wave of the year than he's had on his last eight dates put together is a sign.
But he does know better.
So while it may look like he has a wide grin on his face as he lies on the kitchen tiles with Robin, eating through the contents of the freezer before the ice cream melts while Robin bitches about the idiots at the power company who didn't realize that maybe when temperatures were spiking every damn person in New York would have their AC cranked and he's telling her it's too hot to rant and fighting for his share of the mint chip, really he knows that this is just part of his period of struggle. Ms Something-hyphen-Mosby is sure to be just around the corner, on the next date, in the next bar, and looking back this will be a lonely little moment before the satisfaction of finding The One.
Robin rolls her eyes and digs out the last bit of cookie dough ice cream with a scrap of Eggo waffle.
This is a low time in your life,Ted reminds himself, leaning over to steal a bite. It may FEEL like the best, but that's just because you haven't met the mother of your future children yet.
Ted has been wrong about things before but that he's sure of. Very, very sure.
A High-Toned Woman Will Make You Walk The Line (Jesse/Rachel, Glee)
Rachel is a talker. A Chatterbox, really, and when she isn't talking, she's singing, and when she isn't singing, she's probably asleep, although even that isn't a sure bet (her adoptive daddies swear she'll sometimes sing while she's dreaming - Broadway standards, mostly, a little Miley Cyrus, and always, always in perfect pitch).
But sometimes, for some things, Rachel can manage to shut up. And if there is ever a time to do so, it would be now, Jesse pressed flat on the bed, his hands gripping the headboard, while she thrusts into him nice and slow.
She'd researched and compared brands and prices and styles, interviewed a selection of lesbians for feedback on their personal preferences before purchasing her dildo and she was quite pleased that she'd decided against one with a vibrator in favor of the sleek, gold silicone one she was wearing now.
Admittedly, she didn't have direct clitoral stimulation, but she couldn't have stood having anything interfere with the sounds Jesse was making, the way he choked for breath, the little gasps he couldn't keep behind his teeth when she twisted her hips.
She stroked his back, admiring the way her nails looked against the sweaty skin of his back. Since the moment Jesse had pulled that book of sheet music down and entered her life, as bold as brass, he'd been leading their dance, guiding their duet. But when they were doing this, when she was making him groan, when he was on prone before her... then the spot light was on her, and she was up-staging Jesse St James.
That Teenage Feeling (Saetan/Sylvia, The Black Jewels Trilogy)
Sylvia was not a girl.
She had ruled for nearly a decade, she had birthed two wonderful, exuberant boys, she had chosen a handful of consorts and learned the mysterious territory of a male's body. She was not a girl.
Yet the more time she spent in Saetan's presence the more she felt herself reduced to a girlhood, dizzy with infatuation for a older man who was not –could not possibly– reciprocate her interest.
At the end of a shopping excursion with Janaelle, Sylvia caught herself leaning towards towards him, just a shade too close. Janaelle was already upstairs, overseeing the placement of the paintings she'd bought from a hole-in-the-wall art gallery. The dusky summer twilight pooled around the open windows, the breeze causing the parlor's curtains to gently sway as she tilted her body towards the High Lord of Hell while they chatted of her search for a new tutor for her youngest, a subject he must have found impossibly inconsequential.
Sylvia realized what she was doing with a start and jerked away from him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to try to cover the motion.
"I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time," she began.
"Do I frighten you?" he asked abruptly, the rudest he'd ever been in her presence.
She blinked at him in shock and then forced her spine straight, lifted her chin. She felt her queen-face settling on her skin, as if she about to pass down an incontestable judgement.
"Quite the opposite, High Lord," she said primly. It took him a minute to realize what she meant. Saetan's eyes widened behind his spectacles.
"Sylvia," he breathed, voice so husky that she felt her legs buckle.
She had a speech all ready, an assurance that her emotions would not cause him any inconvenience but he reached out, brushed her cheek with his long nails, and she quite lost the thread of her thoughts.
"Sylvia," he said again, eyes fixed on her lips and she damned the consequences and grabbed the lapel of his jacket. She tugged him towards her, rising on her toes, her free hand going behind his neck, and kissed him with all the lust that had kept her tossing late into an embarrassingly large number of nights.
He responded immediately, hands sliding over her hips to cup her backside, press her more firmly against him.
The drawing room door opened.
"Lady Sylvia, would you like some refresh...." the butler trailed off as she and Saetan jerked apart like two teenagers caught necking by a parent.
"I'll assume not," Beale said after a scant second and then closed the door behind him.
Ain't Too Proud To Plead (Jesse/Rachel, Glee)
He wakes up in the middle of the night with her voice running like a loop in his head, lyrics overlapping, a duet with only one voice.
And tell you time and time again / I've gotta fly once / and still I dreamed he'd come to me.
She's gotten under his skin and Jesse does what he always does; he pours everything into his work and for the first time, it doesn't work. He doesn't get parts, he doesn't excel, and even he knows why:
His vocals are too passionate, his acting too wooden, and his good looks, well. It's hard to look young and charming when he's living on black coffee and red bull.
He does home for Christmas and Shelby stops by to catch up, cute little baby in a holster across her chest.
"You look like hell," she tells him, and three days later Rachel herself shows up on his door.
When he answers, she looks him up and down, and a small pleased smile crosses her face.
"Did you come here to gloat?" he asks. (Trite dialogue, he thinks.)
"Don't be trite, Jesse," Rachel says, looking smug and virtuous. "My reasons for coming are twofold: as a favor to my biological mother and because I've decided to give you a chance to win me back."
She lifts her chin.
"You think I want you back?" Jesse sneers, and finally, finally he nails it: his voice is amused and cruel and sexy.
Rachel sticks out her chin, gives him the beat of silence, and Jesse steps forward, belts out the opening lines of "Ain't Too Proud To Beg."
And they said that a Vocal Adrenaline boy couldn't pull off a soul number.
Unspoken (Neville/Ginny, Harry Potter)
They have their codes.
Ginny lays three stripes of bacon across her toast and Neville knows that tonight they will be sneaking into the Carrows' office to wreck havoc at three a.m.
Hannah wears her hair in four plaits and he knows that there are four more people interested in the DA.
No one can figure out what Luna's codes are, so Neville keeps an eye on her as much as he can.
Ginny isn't the best at this part of resisting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She sees, but she doesn't understand. To her, the fact that Neville makes sure she always has dittany in her bag is just Neville being a good friend, she doesn't comprehend that it's his way of saying, be careful. She knows that whenever she gets a detention he'll wait for her in the common room until she comes back, no matter how many hours Snape has her scrubbing the tables in his former-classroom, but she doesn't understand that it means, I love you.
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Lovely writing, as always! :D
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