The More You Know

[maypirate]

I don't really have much to say right now, since I'm actually being studious today and feeling good about it (or I just feel good because I finally have my medicines thank god), but I thought I'd just clear something up with an Important Public Statement.

It may have come across to people that I perceive THE BOONDOCK SAINTS to be the sexiest movie ever.

This is NOT TRUE.

I know this may cause some extreme palpitations, faintness of heart, and gawking, but the truth is, and as you really should have known if you're adept in the subtleties of Amber (or lack thereof) is that the sexiest movie ever, that I am chronically compelled to rub all over my body and which makes me lean against TVs with a happy girlish sigh is, in fact, GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK.

And BDS is a very close second. Like right on the heels. I hope no one has been irrevocably damaged by this information.

I was just listening to the OST for GNGL and I kind of went "Nndsfjdfskdk." Why yes, I do have skewed principles, why do you ask?

So anyway, I'm gonna go back to my reading until around 8 since I am a good little learner today.

Edit: P.S. - for the record, AIDAN. That is all.

Comments

[soda-and-capes.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I haven't seen Good Night, and Good Luck yet! Now I'm curious.

[poisontaster]

(because I am crazy and...possibly a little high on Darvocet right now...)

Jack is falling down the wall.

No. That's wrong.

Jack wants to be falling down the wall, Jack should be falling down the wall, slow, boneless slip-slide, but he is not.

He isn't because Assad is holding him up, a hand across his chest, a knee between his thighs and pinned like this, Jack's got nowhere to go.

He wishes he was less familiar with the sensation.

"I can't..." It's a rasp. A whisper.

"You can." In Assad's voice is all the serene confidence of prophets and madmen. Jack hasn't decided which one Assad is yet. "You are too far out of your flesh now. Driven too much and too far into your own mind. You must come back. You must be mindful of your flesh again."

Assad's fingers tug at Jack's belt. It isn't really Jack's; it's the belt they gave him when he came back. Came back to die. Again. How many times has he died? It's not his belt.

Not his jeans, either, that Assad is tugging apart with rough, impatient gestures, that one arm still banding across Jack's chest.

But it is his cock that Assad holds in surprisingly gentle fingers; holds and strokes and stirs to unwilling life. His cock. Jack's cock.

"I can show you," Assad says and his mouth is so much closer now, hovering right there. Jack thinks how he could bite and tear it from Assad's face and escape this. He think how he could bend and kiss and suck it, open and let it plunder him.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know.

"Yes," Jack says. "Okay."

He leans forward.

[maypirate.livejournal.com]

ksuhdvolsuhegolvbhsildughvlsiduhvlisdugbvsolubh sughvilsug

I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS AND THEN I SAW IT AND I FELL OVER AND AND AND.

NGDGHKD I LOVE YOU ERIN.

I also support these magical drugs you are high on because you are so AWESOME! It's so Jack, too, at his most frustrated and so Assad because he's the one grounding Jack right now. In so many ways.

I am your swoon-puppet. Seriously. *hugshugshugs*

[poisontaster]

*HUGS* And what EXACTLY does a swoon-puppet do? :)

You're welcome. I had...um...a moment of Jackassery. LOL. And now you learn the second part of my reputation (see icon)

[reikah.livejournal.com]

at a guess... swoon?