Artificial flowers cannot die for life within them is illusion.
Since Taylor told me that I need to post things, I have been searching for something to post about. I did have one with some weird stuff I've drawn, but since my NYC have come in, I'm going to include them in that, so it's going take a while for that to come up.
In the mean time, I pulled out my trust fact book and used some facts to write some one shots, two House ones came of it, I'm afraid. Then I just chucked in one I had hanging around.
It Takes Two to Tango
The tango originated as a dance between two men for partnering practice.
The tango is oft described as storytelling. More oft it allows the thoughts of the ones doing the dancing to creep in over the story.
It's easy to bend Wilson, lead forcefully and with no regret. Step on his feet or his pride and not give a second glance. And, irate, he pushes back, but never enough to quite lead and never enough to avoid getting his feet trod upon. It's Wilson who is too kind, too accomodating when in motion, he will reflect the opposite of his partner, rather than move in a more perfect synch with them. Nevertheless, he returns to spar time after time.
It's Chase who's softer though, easy to fluster and force into submission because Chase never fights back. He takes the aggressive movements, the heavy footwork because he believes, rather firmly, that doing this now will ensure his safety later. There is not much joy for him as he looks ahead rather than what is in front of him. He sees miserably further dances, more humiliation, but still he searches for his turn to lead. And so, he begins again.
Foreman is inflexible. He refuses, point blank to be forced to perform, theatrics and grandeur are not his mediums. He knows fact and he knows truths, though he does question them, in slight, the more he is forced to move his feet, to shuffle across the floor against his will with all eyes on him. He'd prefer to stay out of sight, but he knows, for it is now fact, that when the music picks up, there is only so long he can keep his seat.
But, indeed, ah, though this dance was meant for two men, it is indeed a woman who can dance it. Be as forceful and as vicious, taking all and giving none. Be bitter and nip at the toes with her heels as she jerks her partner along. She can be sour, but still have better intentions under that. Her moods are sometimes fake, they are to get what she wants, she will do what she has to do to get that item. She will give in sometimes, allowing herself to be steered a touch, knowing, in the end, she will be the one with the victor's spoils. Or maybe not. She will take that risk.
He plants her feet on her desk, defiance best inspires her, and quirks an eyebrow. Ready to tango again.
Note: I had to try that. I swear it's shipping! I swear! But, in all honesty, it's such a badly strung together description of them all. Oi vey.
Toothpicks
Maine is the toothpick captial of the world.
Chase liked things in his mouth. Honestly! His last girlfriend had told him he's got an oral fixation -- he just couldn't go that long without something in his mouth. And not in a sexual manner before someone starts saying he's gay. Again. That's getting old too.
But not as old as the remedies people seem to come up with for his love of objects in his mouth. The first one, in middle school, had been replacing his pencils with gum. Chase had gotten the sneaking suspicion that his teachers were eager to stop having to give him pens because he'd eaten his pencil. He'd chewed on the pens too and gotten a mouthful of ink for his troubles.
High school brought about his first girlfriend cramming his mouth full of gum so he would stop being so intent on sucking her tongue right out of her mouth. In the end, she dumped in for he was too taken with blowing bubbles bigger than her breasts (something he said, not her) to pay attention to her anyways.
College had been the Time of Great Things, being a med student and surrounded by other med students. He'd agreed to a study of his love of a full mouth and had nearly wound up in some uncompromising situations, half of which nearly ended in seing on how well he would be able to suck...things. Was it in fact better than said student's girlfriend? Chase had immediately switched dorms.
Now there was work and he was again turning pencils into snack time as he had so many years previous. Though, now he seemed to have depleted the supply closet of its marvelous Ticonderogas, and was left merely with a pocketful of toothpicks swiped from the cafeteria.
He didn't like toothpicks. They were too skinny and so easy to --
Foreman leaned over and gave Chase a generous wallop to the back.
"Try not to inhale the toothpicks."
Height Difference
Inhale, inhale slowly before that temper get the better of me. Exhale. Good, good; must stay composed. Must stay calm. Must remember that it's not anyone's fault. Must not scream or say anything or make a scene. Though, I am rather good at that. I make scenes like nobody's business.
Just because it's no one's fault doesn't mean that it still isn't fair. All the same, I look at that ridiculously happy redhead paired off with the fly-off-the-handle-at-a-moment's-notice girl and it's just not fair! Even that stupid boy with the bush on his head is only a slight bit taller than that odd, cracked woman who seems to pop out of nowhere. They say they despise the other, but that's anyone's guess.
I, on the other hand, at best, on my tippy toes, with my back ramrod straight, couldn't even get my eyes past the third tie on his shirt. God damn! Maybe next time I'll jump and see how tall I'll be then and maybe pigs will fly and he'll find it funny and then scrunch down a bit so I can finally throttle him for being so tall.
Note: Ha ha, Misao's the shortest in the entire series. I won't say Yahiko 'cos he's not done yet.
Hannya thought it proper for me to become a man, in the most seedy sense of the phrase, and the expedition turned into a catastrophe. This would also be the same night that we all discovered Shinomori Aoshi will never be a great drinker. -- Sundial I love cracked Aoshi. Actually, I love of the evilish characters on Kenshin. Saitoh is my new hero -- because he is that cool and you know it.
Okon and Omasu look at me like I am crazy. Which, I suppose, is a fair assessment of my current mental state. I move aside, nodding at the person I spent all afternoon to fetch.
"Ladies," Hiko Seijuro announces, blustering past me with the aplomb of an Emperor entering his court, "I've come bearing the best medicine there is. Sake, sake, and more sake."
Hiko-sama!!!" Okon and Omasu both squeal.
"Say now, Shinomori said you were both beat up. Sounds like you should hire a certain Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu master and accomplished potter as a bodyguard."
Okon and Omasu are still squealing as I quietly slide the shoji closed. I don't know what those two see in that man. -- still Sundial
All aside, Sundial is kick ass and beautiful in this slightly disturbing way.
In the mean time, I pulled out my trust fact book and used some facts to write some one shots, two House ones came of it, I'm afraid. Then I just chucked in one I had hanging around.
It Takes Two to Tango
The tango originated as a dance between two men for partnering practice.
The tango is oft described as storytelling. More oft it allows the thoughts of the ones doing the dancing to creep in over the story.
It's easy to bend Wilson, lead forcefully and with no regret. Step on his feet or his pride and not give a second glance. And, irate, he pushes back, but never enough to quite lead and never enough to avoid getting his feet trod upon. It's Wilson who is too kind, too accomodating when in motion, he will reflect the opposite of his partner, rather than move in a more perfect synch with them. Nevertheless, he returns to spar time after time.
It's Chase who's softer though, easy to fluster and force into submission because Chase never fights back. He takes the aggressive movements, the heavy footwork because he believes, rather firmly, that doing this now will ensure his safety later. There is not much joy for him as he looks ahead rather than what is in front of him. He sees miserably further dances, more humiliation, but still he searches for his turn to lead. And so, he begins again.
Foreman is inflexible. He refuses, point blank to be forced to perform, theatrics and grandeur are not his mediums. He knows fact and he knows truths, though he does question them, in slight, the more he is forced to move his feet, to shuffle across the floor against his will with all eyes on him. He'd prefer to stay out of sight, but he knows, for it is now fact, that when the music picks up, there is only so long he can keep his seat.
But, indeed, ah, though this dance was meant for two men, it is indeed a woman who can dance it. Be as forceful and as vicious, taking all and giving none. Be bitter and nip at the toes with her heels as she jerks her partner along. She can be sour, but still have better intentions under that. Her moods are sometimes fake, they are to get what she wants, she will do what she has to do to get that item. She will give in sometimes, allowing herself to be steered a touch, knowing, in the end, she will be the one with the victor's spoils. Or maybe not. She will take that risk.
He plants her feet on her desk, defiance best inspires her, and quirks an eyebrow. Ready to tango again.
Note: I had to try that. I swear it's shipping! I swear! But, in all honesty, it's such a badly strung together description of them all. Oi vey.
Toothpicks
Maine is the toothpick captial of the world.
Chase liked things in his mouth. Honestly! His last girlfriend had told him he's got an oral fixation -- he just couldn't go that long without something in his mouth. And not in a sexual manner before someone starts saying he's gay. Again. That's getting old too.
But not as old as the remedies people seem to come up with for his love of objects in his mouth. The first one, in middle school, had been replacing his pencils with gum. Chase had gotten the sneaking suspicion that his teachers were eager to stop having to give him pens because he'd eaten his pencil. He'd chewed on the pens too and gotten a mouthful of ink for his troubles.
High school brought about his first girlfriend cramming his mouth full of gum so he would stop being so intent on sucking her tongue right out of her mouth. In the end, she dumped in for he was too taken with blowing bubbles bigger than her breasts (something he said, not her) to pay attention to her anyways.
College had been the Time of Great Things, being a med student and surrounded by other med students. He'd agreed to a study of his love of a full mouth and had nearly wound up in some uncompromising situations, half of which nearly ended in seing on how well he would be able to suck...things. Was it in fact better than said student's girlfriend? Chase had immediately switched dorms.
Now there was work and he was again turning pencils into snack time as he had so many years previous. Though, now he seemed to have depleted the supply closet of its marvelous Ticonderogas, and was left merely with a pocketful of toothpicks swiped from the cafeteria.
He didn't like toothpicks. They were too skinny and so easy to --
Foreman leaned over and gave Chase a generous wallop to the back.
"Try not to inhale the toothpicks."
Height Difference
Inhale, inhale slowly before that temper get the better of me. Exhale. Good, good; must stay composed. Must stay calm. Must remember that it's not anyone's fault. Must not scream or say anything or make a scene. Though, I am rather good at that. I make scenes like nobody's business.
Just because it's no one's fault doesn't mean that it still isn't fair. All the same, I look at that ridiculously happy redhead paired off with the fly-off-the-handle-at-a-moment's-notice girl and it's just not fair! Even that stupid boy with the bush on his head is only a slight bit taller than that odd, cracked woman who seems to pop out of nowhere. They say they despise the other, but that's anyone's guess.
I, on the other hand, at best, on my tippy toes, with my back ramrod straight, couldn't even get my eyes past the third tie on his shirt. God damn! Maybe next time I'll jump and see how tall I'll be then and maybe pigs will fly and he'll find it funny and then scrunch down a bit so I can finally throttle him for being so tall.
Note: Ha ha, Misao's the shortest in the entire series. I won't say Yahiko 'cos he's not done yet.
Hannya thought it proper for me to become a man, in the most seedy sense of the phrase, and the expedition turned into a catastrophe. This would also be the same night that we all discovered Shinomori Aoshi will never be a great drinker. -- Sundial I love cracked Aoshi. Actually, I love of the evilish characters on Kenshin. Saitoh is my new hero -- because he is that cool and you know it.
Okon and Omasu look at me like I am crazy. Which, I suppose, is a fair assessment of my current mental state. I move aside, nodding at the person I spent all afternoon to fetch.
"Ladies," Hiko Seijuro announces, blustering past me with the aplomb of an Emperor entering his court, "I've come bearing the best medicine there is. Sake, sake, and more sake."
Hiko-sama!!!" Okon and Omasu both squeal.
"Say now, Shinomori said you were both beat up. Sounds like you should hire a certain Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu master and accomplished potter as a bodyguard."
Okon and Omasu are still squealing as I quietly slide the shoji closed. I don't know what those two see in that man. -- still Sundial
All aside, Sundial is kick ass and beautiful in this slightly disturbing way.