Oops, I Did It Again

A very happy belated birthday to bookishwench--I think you were my very first friend on LJ. I always look forward to reading your posts. Here's to the best year yet!

National Quote From Your Own Fic Day

nwhepcat has declared National Quote From Your Own Fic Day. So, OK. 'Cause it's more interesting than packing.

From All Set Down (a Giles fic):

The funeral is held outdoors, late in the afternoon. The mourners cluster around the pair of caskets, listening to the murmurs of the cleric but deriving little comfort from his words. Willow weeps in Tara’s arms, while Xander leans heavily on Anya’s wheelchair, his face a mask of stoicism. Giles lingers behind them all, unacknowledged and unwelcome to participate in their grief. He has played no part in the arrangements; none of them has spoken to him since the night at the tower.

As the sun swings towards the horizon, two figures materialise silently in the shadows of the nearby trees. The larger stands immobile, his head bowed, while the other moves in constant restless agitation. At a motion from the cleric, there is a faint whine of machinery and one of the caskets begins its slow descent into the ground. Its brass fixtures glint in the sunlight. Moments later, the second casket begins its final journey. Giles’s throat tightens as the coffins and their inhabitants disappear from view. With no one left to watch, and before the vampires are released from their shady confines, he turns away and staggers towards home. His chest heaving and his anguish nearly blinding him, he stumbles across the threshold, gasping for air that cannot fill the void within, and crumples to the floor.


And, on a lighter note, from Bell of the Ball, for which I was ghostwriter for the inimitable spikeizsohawt:

THE PROM WAS IN THE JIM WHICH USUALLY WAS A REALLY FUGLY ROOM ALL STINKY AND SMELLING LIKE SWEATY FEET AND DIRTY SOCKS. DAWN HATED JIM CLASS CUZ WHO DOESN'T??? IT MESSES UP YOUR HAIR AND IT ALWAYS TAKES 4EVER TO FIX YOUR MAKEUP AFTERWARDS. THE JANITORS HAD CLEANED THE JIM UP PRETTY GOOD THO AND TONITE IT LOOKED LIKE A FANTISY WONDERLAND. IT WAS SORT OF DARK BUT NOT TOTALLY BECAUSE THEIR WERE LITTLE LITES TWINKLING LIEK STARS ALL OVER THE CEELING. AND THERE WERE LOTS AND LOTS OF STREEMERS AND FLOWERS IN VASES AND ROSE PETLES ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND GLITTER FLOATING IN THE AIR AND IT WAS JUST BREATHTAKING AND MAGICLE. SPIKE SQUEZED HER HAND TITE AND THEN TWIRLED HER AROUND IN TIME TO THE MUSIC THAT THE BAND WAS PLAYING AND LOOKED AT HER LIKE SHE WAS AN ANGLE. NOT ANGLE LIKE THE BROODMYSTER-ANGLE BUT A REAL ANGLE YOU KNOW THE KIND WITH WINGS.

(A/N: Ooops forgot the caps lock was on but I don't feel like typing that all over again so just deal!!! HEEEEE!!!)


I know it's pathetic to laugh at your own jokes, but that "you know the kind with wings" sentence makes me snicker every time.

Gah

My apartment is a sea of boxes. Navigating from one end of the 'living room' to the other requires both a sextant and a strong tailwind. Just about everything I own is packed (I have exactly one pair of shoes to wear from now until I arrive in Peterborough and actually find the box with all my other shoes), and everything I've had in storage for the past few years has been added to the pile. I've bought smelling salts to revive any movers who might be overcome by the vapours upon seeing the stack of boxes that reaches nearly to the ceiling.

It is a mark of my current state of mind that I started typing "sealing" instead of "ceiling" in that last sentence.

Send help. I'm begging you.

Life necessities that will remain unpacked until the last minute (i.e., tomorrow evening):

• underwear
• a handful of teabags and my kettle
• bag of 'Two-Bite Brownies'
• my rapidly diminishing stock of wine
• the cat
• laptop, highspeed modem, and router
• TV, DVD player, and VCR
• House Season 2 and Buffy Season 6.

At least I've got my priorities straight.