Grand Central Station

In A Month Of Sundays

2010-08-06T18:04:24Z

Title: In A Month Of Sundays

Pairing: Usutu/Matt

Rating: Pg-13

Word Count: 4001

Summary: Matt just wanted to start a peaceful, quiet life on the farm. So he doesn’t understand why someone who barely speaks to him can get his feathers so ruffled all the time.

A/N: This fic was requested by an anon at the Summer Matt-a-thon. I hope it was what they wanted. Thank you to my awesome beta kethni for going over this for me.

The road to the Petrelli farm had sunflowers growing alongside it, tall and bright and welcoming to the eye. They waved to the stranger walking past, a golden-yellow howdy-do that made him smile and tip his hat. The man’s shoes were caked in dust and hard travel; his clothes looked like they’d seen more than one rough wash in a creek, his bag of belongings had a few decades of wear and tear, and his hat seemed held together by sheer stubbornness. No one would call him handsome per say, but there was something in his large frame and warm brown eyes that could draw a body in, like a simmering stew on a cold winter night.

As the sun drew up to full noon, the sound of a wagon caught the man’s attention. He turned around to see a two-horse rig and cart plodding up the road behind him; his thumb stuck out in a hitchhiker position like a reflex. The cart pulled up beside him soon enough, revealing a dark-skinned man with impenetrable eyes looking down at him from the driver’s seat.

“Morning! You heading near the Petrelli place by any chance?” The driver stared at him for a moment, nodded once, and motioned for him to climb aboard. The stranger gingerly plopped his bag in the back and clambered up next to the driver with a thankful “Much obliged, sir” that made the driver’s eyes narrow imperceptibly. With a click of the mouth and a slap of the reins, the cart started off again.

“Stroke of luck, you coming along. Didn’t think I’d make it before sundown, rate I was going.”

“…”

“So uh, guess you’re from near a ways?”

“Mhmm.”

“Aah. Name’s Parkman. Matt Parkman.”

“…”

“I was hoping the Petrellis might have work…”

“Mmm.”

Since it seemed to be getting him nowhere in a hurry, Matt decided to give up on conversation for the time being. The driver had this air about him, like only his body was truly occupying the space and his spirit was somewhere very far away. He wore no hat, and the sun gleamed dully from his bald head. He was shorter than Matt, and much thinner to boot, but the way he held himself whispered that he was certainly no pushover.

Matt twisted his hands together in his lap and suppressed the urge to crack a joke or two to ease the sudden tension. The silence continued to hang heavy for the rest of the ride, sending goosebumps along Matt’s skin. The driver only looked ahead; Matt watched him sidelong and swore the man hardly blinked. Even the friendly sunflowers seemed to be looking away from them as they passed by.

Just when Matt considered walking the rest of the way, the cart crested a hill. Sure enough, the Petrelli farm sprawled over most of the valley, a shining testament of plenty. Matt couldn’t help but grin. All he had to do now was get a job and he could finally start anew.

The cart rumbled on as late afternoon sunlight gently illuminated the fields in front of them. As they got closer, Matt could see men and women working, hoeing corn, weeding rows of carrots, and herding livestock. They laughed and called out to each other, seemingly happy in their work. This was just what he wanted: simplicity.

“Are you truly making the right choice?” Matt found himself startled out of his revelry by the sound of the driver’s voice. His voice was accented, from somewhere Matt couldn’t place. It carried the grave warning of a guide from a fairy tale or a ghost story, all at once protective and frightening. The goosebumps returned full force, and it took him a moment to gather his wits enough to reply.

“I, ah, well yes. It’s honest work, and I…” Matt cursed himself for faltering. The driver glanced over at him, his gaze weighty and piercing. When he looked away, Matt released the breath he’d been holding. They pulled up to a small whitewashed building with a simple screen door and sounds of life coming from the inside. A few men sat on crates outside, and they all showed a keen interest in the stranger in their midst.

The driver pulled to a stop. “This is your destination, Matt Parkman.” Matt tipped his hat, reached back to grab his bag, and hopped off the cart. Before he could say so such as a thank you, the cart pulled off again, leaving him unsure if he somehow made the man angry or if he was that brusque with most people. With a small shrug, he turned to the building, waving hello to the gentlemen eyeing him up.

“Afternoon, sirs. Where would I go to inquire about a job?” Matt did his best to look humble and friendly, in case he rubbed these people off the wrong way as well. To his relief, they all had a smile for him. One young man with a bundle of enthusiasm and an abundance of hair bounced up to Matt, looking for all the world like an excitable puppy.

“Hey, no need to be so formal! Don’t let old Turtle scare you; he’s always kinda quiet and spooky. You’re looking for a job? Come in and see Bennet, he’ll fix you right up. My name’s Peter. What’s yours?” Matt let Peter lead him inside, but he held up a hand for silence.

“Name’s Parkman, Matt Parkman…who’s Turtle? Was he the one driving the cart?” Peter nodded and was about to launch into another burst of chatter when a man in spectacles walked into the main room.

“Afternoon. I’m guessing you’re here to see if we’re hiring, since I’ve never seen you before and you don’t come off as a salesman.”

“Yes, sir. Would you be Mr. Bennet? I’m—”

“—Parkman. I heard. Have a seat, yes, over there. Ever worked on a farm before?”

“Only once, during the summer. An orange grove. But I’m no stranger to hard work. You show me what needs doing and it gets done.”

“Got any family?”

“…no, sir.”

“Know anything about livestock?”

“I…no,sir. But I learn fast.”

“I see.” There was pregnant pause. “How did you get here?”

“Walked mostly, but then…Turtle? He gave me a lift the rest of the way.”

“Oh. Did he? How much did you pay him?”

“I didn’t sir. He let me hitchhike.” This drew a shocked grasp from Peter, but he clapped a hand over his mouth. Bennet stared at Matt like he had two heads, and he wondered if he said the wrong thing.

“The pay’s not much. Forty cents a day, meals free and a bed to sleep in.”

“What more could I need?”

“The Petrelli’s don’t tolerate drunkenness or rowdy behavior.” Peter snorted at that, but a sharp glance from Bennet quickly quieted him. “Sunday is a day of rest, but there’s no pay for that day either, understand?”

“Does this mean I’m hired, sir?”

“On a trial basis, but if you work as hard as you claim, it’ll be a breeze.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first week on the farm was a blur of muscle aches and strange odors. Matt never knew that it could be so difficult to learn the difference between herbs and weeds, or the proper way to milk a cow. For some reason, he had the impression that cows were placid, stupid things. Nearly getting trampled two mornings in a row taught him differently.

Fortunately, on the third morning of milking duty, Matt noticed that Turtle was bailing sweet hay in the stalls for the cows to eat. At least if one of them kicked him to death there would be someone there to collect his corpse.

“Morning! You’re Turtle, right?

“Most call me that.” Matt blinked in surprise, not really expecting a multi-syllable answer.

“I wanted to thank you. For giving me a lift the other day.”

“Today is not appropriate. I will let you know when.”
Something about that made Matt’s stomach clench, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. The way he said it was so matter of fact and blunt that Matt couldn’t decide if he was being rude or not. Turtle’s face was inscrutable as ever, so Matt did the only logical thing he could do.

“…woah. What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt crossed his arms, giving the shorter man a stern gaze. For some reason, Turtle just looked over his hostile stance, shook his head a little, and went back to work without missing a beat.

“What it means, Matt Parkman, is that I have done you a favor. If you wish to thank me, then I will let you know when I want the favor returned. Is this not how it is usually done?”

“Uh…yeah. It is. I just wasn’t sure what you meant. Sorry.” Matt deflated, suddenly a little embarrassed by his defensiveness. A farm was no place for impulsive behavior, and he genuinely wanted to get along with everyone if he could. With a short sigh, he plopped himself down on the milking stool and dragged his bucket underneath a cow udder.

“Let’s get on without a fuss this morning, ‘kay Bessie girl?” The cow gave Matt a very unimpressed look. Matt wasn’t more than a few squirts in when he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Turtle standing behind him; without a word he crouched down and pulled Matt’s hands away from the udder and replaced it with his own.

“That grip will deform the cow. Two fingers, from the top, pull firmly.” Turtle demonstrated, producing a steady stream of milk into the bucket. Matt watched with rapt attention. “Your way,” Turtle gripped the entire udder and tugged, “makes air in the tip and makes the cow angry.”

Matt could feel himself flush, but a niggling part of his brain said it wasn’t entirely from embarrassment. He copied Turtle’s method, and was delighted when he also got a good result. His teacher nodded once before getting back on his feet. The cow made a low mewling noise, and when Matt turned around to thank him for the lesson, Turtle had disappeared again. For some reason, Matt was a little disappointed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It took until Matt’s second Saturday on the farm before he finally found his rhythm. He was on his way to the slophouse for dinner when he felt someone jump on his back. He stumbled to the sound of good-natured laughter and found himself surrounded by a group of men and women. The jumping culprit was Peter; with him were Gabriel, HiroandAndo (Matt only heard them referred to in one breath, as though they weren’t actually two separate beings), Daphne, and Elle.

“Hey, getting supper? Join us Matt, always room at the table for one more.” Peter flashed him a sunny grin and slung an arm around his shoulder. Elle watched the exchange with a fair amount of interest, making Gabriel roll his eyes at her.

“Course he’s gettin’ supper, dimwit.” Daphne skipped ahead of the group, walking backwards as she talked. “Why else would he be going to the slophouse? He ain’t Hiro, goin’ in just to take a gawk at pretty lil’ Charlie.” Hiro turned a mottled shade of red and stuck his tongue out at her, a move that she swiftly copied.

“You’re still welcome, if you don’t mind sitting at the children’s table.” Gabriel smirked and adjusted his glasses, earning a chorus of protests and a smack on the arm from Elle. Matt laughed, feeling more at ease than he had in a very long time.

The slophouse was packed, workers dragging themselves in with the dust of the day on their skin and smiles on their faces. The smell of simmering chili and fresh cornbread floated in the air, making more than one stomach rumble in appreciation.

Three serving girls stood behind the counter: Claire, who Matt was told from day one was Bennet’s Daughter And Off Limits, Period. That didn’t stop Peter from making moon-eyes at her, Matt noticed. Next was sweet redheaded Charlie, and Matt could see why Hiro turned into a fool whenever she was near. And finally there was Monica, as skilled as she was beautiful. She always snuck Matt a little extra something with his food, and her shy smile always made him feel less tired than when he walked in.

“Wow! My favorite! I’m going to eat three bowls worth, I’m starving!” Peter rubbed his stomach in appreciation as he made his way through the line.

“Dunno why you’ve got such an appetite,” Claire teased as she ladled hot chili into his bowl. “You don’t do nothin’ round here but get underfoot, no how.” There was an uproar of laughter in the line, as it was no secret that Mr. Petrelli’s second son only played at farming, never getting into the really heavy labor. The butt of the joke scowled, but was placated by an extra serving of cornbread.

“Next Sunday’s the social.” Monica passed Matt his meal, looking up at him through her lashes. “Don’t rekon you’ve anyone to go with, since you ain’t been here long.” She smiled, and Matt discovered that the one he gave in return was a trifle strained. As he took a moment to scramble for a reply, there was a crash behind him as Hiro dropped a bowl on the floor; Ando promptly scolded him in rapid-fire Japanese. Matt took the moment to slip away and head to a seat.

As the folks around him chattered about the growing heat, the lack of rain, and the Huckleberry Social, Matt snuck a peek back at the serving line, feeling low-down and yellow for sneaking of without giving Monica a proper response. She was younger than him, true, but she wasn’t Janice for God’s sake, and she seemed genuinely interested. There was no sane reason why he should feel antsy around her. Looking back he could see her chatting with someone else. A mysterious, taciturn, and fascinating someone.

Matt was shocked to discover that not only was Turtle listening attentively to Monica’s animated chatter, but he was smiling. Even from this distance Matt could see the gleam of his shiny white teeth. That one brief smile transformed him from an impassive, apathetic man into a mythical being, a force of nature wearing the skin of a human.

He was suddenly reminded of Br’er Rabbit tales, and he thought perhaps Turtle was a misnomer. With an aura like that, he should’ve been Lion. By the time he realized that his eyes were following Turtle instead of staying on Monica, he understood why he slunk away. Monica’s smile was gazelle-beautiful, but it didn’t make his heart do backflips the same way Turtle’s did.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For all that the Huckleberry Social was meant to be a family-oriented event, when the sun went down and the old folks and children went home for the night, the atmosphere took a decidedly sharp turn. The fiddlers upped the tempo, porcelain jugs appeared out of nowhere, and the younger crowd really started to kick up their heels. Matt had a grand time, allowing people to sweep him from one square dance to another until he got slightly dizzy. Even Nathan Petrelli, a.k.a Bossman Jr., knocked back a few tin cups of bathtub gin with his employees.

Matt was helping himself to just one more sliver of pecan pie (he danced pretty hard, so he deserved it) when Nikki sauntered over, batting her eyelashes hard enough to whip up a tornado. Peter and the gang seemed to be backing her up, and there was a malicious glint in Gabriel’s eyes that made Matt distinctly nervous.

“Parkman! Old buddy old pal, I need your help with something.” She slid in close, murmuring in his ear in order to be heard over the music. “I got a bet going, see, about roping skills; bet the Petrelli brothers that I could truss a full grown man in under ten seconds. They won’t let DL be my partner; they say it’s a cheat.” Matt took a step back, blinking in surprise.

Before Matt could properly protest, he was surrounded by a mob of his slightly drunk coworkers calling for him to be a good sport, there was money on the line. He allowed Daphne to pull him along. It was all in good fun after all, and Nikki was fit, but strong enough to take him down? Probably not. Daphne led him to a patch of grass surrounded by a hooting human corral, and Matt took a few good stretches to clear the dregs of alcohol from his brain.

Nathan brought over a slender, well-dressed man with curls turned into a riotous mess by the heat; Matt wondered if he really thought the Doc was gonna be necessary, a nervous feeling piercing through his stomach. Doc shook his head, pulled out a handkerchief, and said the game would begin on the count of five, his crisp British accent rolling over the assembled. Matt’s instincts kicked in. He widened his stance and kept his eyes trained on Nikki at all times.

So it came as a complete surprise to him when she came at him like greased lightning, not even giving him a chance to sidestep as she sweep his feet out from under him. Matt hit the ground in a resounding crash, the wind knocked out of him, and Nikki pounced. Rope slipped around his ankles, and when he thrashed she gripped him with surprising strength. Matt arched his back, preparing to flip over and knock her off, when a figure caught his eye.

Turtle was watching him, the only quiet, unmoving figure in the entire crowd. Time slowed; Matt could feel every fiber and crease in the rope, the blood pumping in his veins. He was flabbergasted as he felt himself suddenly aching and nervous, like the unworthy human sacrifice to some ancient god. Just a few feet closer and Turtle could be towering over him, bringing him to ecstatic heights with a mere touch.

The moment stretched thin, and just when Matt wondered if he would be frozen under the weight of Turtle’s gaze for eternity, Nikki made the final knot around his wrist and yanked.

The tension broke with the whoops of the crowd. Nikki was lifted in the air as cash was passed back and forth; Peter shot Matt a disappointed glare as he counted bills into Nathan’s hand. Matt writhed in his bonds, but when he looked up and saw that Turtle was still watching him, he stilled.

There was a twist to his lips, a smile of secrets whispered in the dark, like he *knew* what was lurking in the back of Matt’s mind. Matt decided that it would be better to lie face down in the dirt until he was freed; he was less likely to embarrass himself that way.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
“If you would like to speak with me, please do so. There is no need to lurk.”
Turtle continued to hang up the harness and tack as though the idea of Matt loitering outside the barn was of little consequence. The moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the few stragglers stumbling into the bunkhouse after a rowdy Saturday night. Matt waited for hours in the dark, watching for Turtle to come back with the last cartful of intoxicated workers from town. But one sentence, and all the words Matt nurtured over the week deserted him.

“Evenin’. Thought maybe we could jaw a spell. I won’t get in the way.” Matt could’ve kicked himself, he sounded like Peter and that was not the impression he wanted to give. Turtle didn’t reply, and Matt wasn’t surprised. The horses whuffled softly as Turtle patted one of them affectionately on the nose.

“You did not wait for me at this hour to make small talk. What is on your mind?” Matt flashed back to that secretive smile, and the warm temperature in the barn got rather noticeable.

“Can’t a guy just stop by for a chat? I’ve been here a month, but we hardly talk. You’re a really mysterious guy, and I’m naturally curious.” Matt plopped on a nearby bale of hay, busying his hands by twisting a few strands together.

“I’m only a mystery because you wanted me to be one.” Matt’s head snapped up; Turtle leaned against a stall, looking down at Matt with a smoothly neutral expression. It rattled him, but Matt refused to let it show. “You have been here, made many friends, and are building a life. You do not speak to me unless the job demands you do so. And yet, you watch me when you think I cannot see. Why is that, Matt Parkman?”

“I don’t, that is, well, I didn’t think you liked talking much, so…”

“But here you are now. Something changed your mind.” Matt got to his feet, ready to just give up on the whole thing and walk out, resigning himself to a torturous existence of never-ending sexual tension. What was he thinking, approaching him like this anyway?

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Matt Parkman.” Turtle’s amber honey of a voice stopped Matt dead in his tracks. It was an idiom, it was a challenge, it was the last straw that had Matt whirling around and marching right back inside. He got right in Turtle’s face, using every inch of his height to loom over the dark-skinned man.

“You don’t get to tell me that, god-dammit! You don’t get to look down on me! Yeah, so I avoided you, but it wasn’t like you were rolling out the fucking welcome wagon at first either. What am I supposed to do huh?” Matt raged, poking Turtle in the shoulder with a finger. “You’re no good to me as a mystery, because I live for mysteries pal, and I crack them. Mysteries take over my dreams and haunt me during the day, I obsess over them, and I can’t keep it up anymore. It’s killing me! So I’ll make fucking small talk all day long if it gets you out of my damn head and keeps me from wanting what I can’t have! Got it?!”

The sound of Matt’s heavy breathing provided a counter-balance to the muted shifting of the animals. Neither one of them moved for a very long time; Turtle only spoke when Matt seemed to be slightly more calm.

“That was brave.” To Matt’s chagrin, Turtle seemed completely unruffled by Matt’s outburst. He placed a hand on Matt’s chest. “I’m going to give you a gift. I think that you deserve it for being honest.”

“…what?” It was an ineloquent response, but Matt was genuinely confused and more that a little frightened. Why on earth he let that escape from his heart and out his lips he’d never understand, but Turtle kept him off-balance all the time. This proved to be no exception.

Turtle cupped Matt’s face in his hands and lowered it close to his own; their lips nearly brushing each other. Matt went wide eyed, and the fact that he was taller didn’t matter a lick, because the look in Turtle’s eyes made his knees want to buckle anyhow.

“Usutu.” It was a feather-brush whisper against Matt’s mouth, something he could very nearly *taste* on the tip of his tongue.

“That is my actual name. It is my gift to you.”

“Why? Why tell me now?”

“I want to hear it fall from your mouth when I’m inside you.” There it was, laid bare as a windswept plain. It dropped Matt to his knees, too stunned to respond when he was patted on the head. The truth hit him with the force of an oncoming train: he wasn’t dealing with a fictional character, a myth, or a god, but a man; it made his whole body shake, because he’d never dealt with anyone like him before.

“Look forward to it, Matt Parkman.”

Prompt: Matt's the nervous newbie farmhand who's head-over-heels for the resident expert, Edgar/Usutu/Mohinder/Gabriel (author's pick), but too shy to do or say anything. The other figures it out but gets Matt to open up about it before revealing that he reciprocates. Bottom!Matt would be awesome. With a secret bondage kink even better.

An apologetic update

2010-07-22T12:15:22Z

For people who don't have Twitter (and those who do), I have a bit of explaining to do.

Since the end of June, I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping. Even when I did finally pass out, I wasn't getting any rest. So I've been going to the doctor's, having sleep studies, and getting labwork done, etc. I also went out on short-term disability. A few days ago I went back to the doctor's for a followup.

They found growths in my thyroid.

We don't know what it means yet, and I have to wait until October to find out if it is spreading or not. On top of that I have severe sleep apnea that they want me to get surgery to fix, I am either diabetic or pre-diabetic, they want me to have lapband sugery, and they are changing my normal meds and giving me four additional ones to take, including something that is supposed to help me with weight loss and concentration issues.. They also suspect that there may be issues with my reproductive system.

I didn't really take the news very well at first, it was a little overwhelming.

But I do understand that I have to keep my chin up, take it one step at a time, and do what I can so that things don't get worse and I end up having a stroke in my sleep.

I'll just have to wait and see what October brings. In the meantime, I will do my best to catch up with everything and everyone. *bows deeply*

I don't know why I like causing myself pain. I really don't.

2010-06-04T20:39:38Z

Make Me Suffer Meme

No matter how talented we are, we've all got things we're miserable at. And usually we don't write/draw these things, because we're miserable at them, but delusions of competence are for losers, right? Here's your chance to ask me for something I'd never produce if I had any sense at all.

1) Request something I'm terrible at and usually avoid at all costs! You may get a doodle, a drabble, a whole fic, or a sixteen part saga full of sturm und drang: how MUCH I suffer is up to me.

2) Fair's fair--post this same offer on your journal, and get ready to gnash your teeth and rend your garments! Make sure to include a list of things you're terrible at (perhaps you've hidden your fail well!), AND (this is important!) a list of things you REALLY don't want to write. Making me suffer is one thing--making me rage is something else. only if you want

Go people. Throw it at me. ^_^

ETA: Things I am bad at: pure fluff; pure action, healthy heterosexual relationships...*cough*, violence.

plotbunny_tiff @ 2010-04-23T11:35:00

2010-04-23T15:35:03Z

HAPPY BIRTHDAY genuinelie !

Yeah, I'm late to the game.

2010-04-20T21:51:19Z

So I saw this awesome meme by toestastegood and I really had to give it a shot because it looked like such fun. And then I spent a half hour trying to narrow down my damn list, argh. But I made the final cut, and I'm pretty happy with it. ^_^

Here's how it works:
1. Cut a hole in the box.
2. Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks/themes/tropes to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
3. Go HERE and post a link to your list. Read other people's lists.
4. Write comment-fic (or longer pieces) based off of other people's lists. Post either the fics or a link to the fic in the person's post.

Feel free to keep this PG if you like, or write something that could get you banned from the Internet. It's all good.

Tiff's Kink/Trope list:

Intoxication and altered states (aphrodisiacs; drugs or alcohol; sex pollen/spores; substances or devices that create arousal, affection, or dependency; speaking or showing the truth while intoxicated; visionary states)
Begging or offering (begging or pleading for mercy, for sexual release, to be taken; a character offering himself; neediness)
Claiming or establishing ownership (private or public; by gesture, word, or ritual; with sex; with a collar and leash; with scent-marking or by biting)
Cross-dressing (forced or voluntary; drag queens or transvestites)
~~Fish Out Of Water scenarios/characters~~ Wings (good heavens, how did I forget *that* one?!)

and one more that I just can't leave off the list, as it is icing on the cake:

Noise (screaming or yelling during sex; whimpering or sobbing; purring, growling; slurping or moaning enthusiastically during blow-jobs)

I'm a fan of:

Leverage {Alex/Elliot, Alex/Elliot/Parker}

Firefly {Jayne/River, Mal/Zoe/Wash}

Heroes {Matt/Mohinder, Monica/Adam, Monica/Tracy, Hiro/Ando}

Avatar, The Last Airbender {Zuko/Sokka, Ty Lee/Katara/Suki}

Glee {Mike/Mercedes, Mike/Kurt, Artie/Brittany}

and, well, if you have some OC's I'll read about them as well! I'm not terribly picky, just a weirdo.

Fills:

tiptoe39 - Heroes, Mohinder/Matt rated R

primarycolors92 -Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/Watson rated NC-17

I swear I will post something normal soon. Like maybe later tonight, idk. Off to dinner and then writing for other folks.

Playing with pictures...

2010-03-04T06:00:04Z

This was a fun little meme I snagged from tiptoe39

1. Answer each of the questions below using Flickr Search.
2. Choose a photo from the first three pages.
3. Copy the URL of your favorite photo into this site: bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php
4. Then share with the world.

01. First Name
02. Favorite Dessert
03. Hometown
04. Favorite Color
05. Celebrity Crush
06. Favorite Drink
07. Dream Vacation
08. Favorite Food
09. What I Want To Be When I Grow Up
10. What I Love Most In The World
11. One Word That Describes Me
12. My LiveJournal Name

Don't talk trash if you can't back it up, man.

2010-02-17T03:25:18Z

In which Tiff is a giant pansy.

2010-02-09T17:52:35Z

While I'm waiting for lunch to arrive, I figured I may as well do a quickie update. Where to begin:

1) Snowmageddon Part Deux: SNOMFG.

We really do not need any more snow, thank you weather gods. I know I have a bias; I could really do without snow at all. But this is ridiculous, and besides, I kind of went sandwich crazy during my combo surgery recovery/ snow-in, so now I'm running out of bread. This is *tragic*.

2) Wannabefoodiesay WHUT?

Speaking of food, I don't know why, but I got the crazy idea to attempt making a Chinese New Year menu. I blame the blogs, the real foodies just make it seem like so much *FUN* (I have a weird idea of fun, blech) and so I get excited and caught up in it...I don't know if it's going to work with the ADDITIONAL snow we're getting this weekend. But I want to try. Or at the very least, I'll bake a cake or something. Whatever. What I''m trying to figure out is what the hell happened to some of my pans. It's like they vanished, and I'm sure this is not the universe's way of saying I need to buy more cooking hardware. Cause I don't. Nope,

3) Remember, it's only a game.

I proved to be the biggest crybaby wuss on the planet last night. There is a point when you are simply *too* emotionally invested in a character, and I think it comes when the game ends its very last session on a dramatic note, and you spend half the night awake *crying* because your character is heartbroken over the loss of an NPC. What is this, I don't even.

We'll, time to scarf down this food and get back to work.

I feel happy!

2010-02-04T21:20:10Z

Had the surgery on my leg yesterday, everything went well and it was done in a jiffy. Now I'm just letting the oxycodine do it's thing. Life is good for now. Have to go to the store before the massive blizzard thingie hits, cause that would suck balls if we were stuck with no food. Yikes.

The sky is dark, but my heart is light.

2010-01-25T17:16:09Z

I really am a twisted individual. Ran my Scion game last night, which took on the theme of B-movie sexploitation action movie D&D crazyness. I put my poor players in a world filled with cruel Amazonian man-hating spider women.

The males of the party were put in a D&D generated dungeon filled with guards and terrible centipede monsters (which made a sound I described as a weasel being shoved in a turned-on grabage disposal) and tall, magical blue people (the tallest of which they named Papa Smurf, much to my amusement). They had fun action movie times, filled with cursing and throwing grenades at things, as well as ending up an a Magnificant Seven situation.

The sole female of the group was seperated from them, and the poor girl was recruited to join their ranks. She chose instead to win back her male party members as sex slaves through a trial by combat and ended up doing this sort of gladiator fight to the death. All in all, it was pretty awesome.

But made me really warm and glowy inside, is that after the game was over, my players started talking about their characters, and how they felt about things, and things the characters wanted to do. They spoke of writing fics, drawing fanart...I got a little choked up.

They had fun, and liked what I did as a DM. It really brought a smile to my face.

I think I want to try running an independant publisher's game, though I don't know what yet. Misery Bubblegum is the slowest to print game EVER MADE, and I've all but given up on the damn thing. Sigh.

I need to update more often. -_-

Ink in my veins and blood on my keyboard.

2010-01-22T03:14:49Z

I made a Glee drabble/fanmix thing as a backup Santa gift for someone over at the Glee X-mas Exchange. if y'all were interested in reading it, or just downloading some music, it can be found here.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's time to get ready for my Glee V-day fic and my Avatar:The Last Airbender AU Big Bang project.

Oh boy. How do I keep slipping into these things? ^_^;;

I'm posting here because I love you. :B

2010-01-14T18:46:47Z

And I start the new year with a meme. Go me. ^_^

Stolen from jadeprince

Reply to this post, and I'll tell you one reason why I like you. Then put this in your own journal {if you want}, and spread the love.

Let's look at the numbers, shall we?

2009-12-15T16:38:25Z

Pages of heroes_exchange fic finished: 3

Pages of Glee Secret Santa fic finished: 1

Number of holiday gifts purchased: 2 5 6 1/2

Number of holiday cookies baked: 0

Number of cards sent out: 0

Number of days until Christmas: 10

Who, me? Procrastinate? Never.

Some of y'all are getting Kwanzaa gifts. Just sayin'.

ETA: Er, I can't find some actual addresses in my address book. If you would like a card or a little holiday box, please email me at plotbunnytiff@hotmail.com

ETA 2: Can someone explain how I got roped into buying gifts for people I don't even like?? Stupid work Secret Santa. Argh.

A-meer-y-cans need love too, you guys.

2009-12-02T04:24:34Z

Because...yeah. Go us. Whoo hoo.

Japan needs a girlfriend: Reason #4831

2009-11-05T03:23:15Z

Seriously...what?! I mean really? Politics are all a shojo high school romantic comedy? That...makes a surprising amount of sense. Haaaaaa.

This might be interesting...

2009-10-25T20:30:09Z

Yoinked this from tiptoe39

1. Go through your iTunes/playlist/brain banks and find a song that reminds you of me.
2. Comment with the song name and the lyrics
3. Put this in your own journal to see what songs other people come up with for you
4. ???
5. PROFIT!

Windows Movie Maker really sucks up time...

2009-10-24T23:49:47Z

I thought this would be something interesting to do...and now I *have* to make my word count. ::nod nod::

How To Cook Everything: 10/21/09

2009-10-23T19:31:06Z

This week we wanted to try something with beef since we hadn't yet. Due to time constraints and last minute planning, we decided to go with a quick and easy All-American combo: steak and mac and cheese. Val used her mothers much beloved mac and cheese recipe, while I took on the steak.

The mac and cheese recipe was fairly simple, involving a sauce of milk, flour, and shredded cheddar poured over cooked elbow macaroni and baked in a 350 degree oven for a half hour. The result was homey and filling, something to curl around on a cold night. And unlike my recipe, you can have it more than once a year without feeling guilty. Next time Val wants to try adding some fresh parmesian and breadcrumbs to the mix, and I think that might be a good addition.

I was lucky enough to find some huge rib-eye steak on sale, so I went with those and purchased a nifty spice mix to make a dry rub with (we didn't have enough time to make a marinade). I was a little nervous about cooking this cut of beef since I've never done it before, so I broke down and bought a meat thermometer. The steaks were exquisite, to my surprise, and not dry or tough at all. I think they would go very well with a red wine reduction, and next time I am defintely taking the time to marinade.

On a somewhat related note, chibi_trillianand I went down to vist skyrat13and genuinelie at their new apartment. Getting down there and back was a pain, because Annapolis is laid out like the crayon-drawn treasure map of a dyslexic child on a sugar high. But we made it, and on time to boot.

They did an awesome job of entertaining, it felt like a very adult sort of dinner party. genuinelies put out fantastic appetizers, including a bowl of green olives stuffed with blue cheese. Now I'll admit: I can't stand olives. Never have, although when I think about it black olives might be the things that traumatized my taste tubs at a tender age. Whatever. I was starving, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and give it a try.

I'm so glad I did, because they ROCKED. I just could not stop munching on them; the only thing that would make them better would be a cold glass of beer [ /butchness]. She also whipped up a fabulous batch of oven roasted asparagus drizzled with olive oil and salt. Mmm. It made me really want to make some of my own, with a hollandaise. Dessert was a divine batch of chocolate chip pumpkin scones. Sounds weird, tastes wonderful. Thanks again for having us over, you guys!

The How To Cook Everything Project: 10/14/09

2009-10-19T16:35:47Z

Yes, I am well aware of how late this is. I did that thing where I thought I posted, then realized I totally didn't. Better late than never, eh?

So last week Val and I decided to try making a shrimp marinara with thin spaghetti and a side of challah bread (a little odd, but meh). The marinara was very simplistic, and I was good and only deviated one ingrediant from the original recipie. It breaks down like this:

1 1/2 cup diced tomato (we were lazy and got it from a can)
1/2 dry white wine
1 tablespoon minced garlic
dash olive oil
salt
pepper
basil
parsely flakes
oregano
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
1 pound cooked, cleaned shrimp

Simply heat up some olive oil in a pan, then toss the garlic in and let it sizzle away for a minute. Next add the tomato and the wine, mixing and crushing the tomato as much as you can. Add the herbs and spices to taste, keeping an eye on the sauce and stirring often to prevent burning and sticking.

After a few minutes, use a slotted spoon to mash and strain out most of the huge tomato chunks. Add in the shrimp and let it simmer for another 5 minutes. Sprinkle in the cheese a little at a time until the sauce thickens a bit. Turn off the heat, taste, add more seasoning if needed, and let it cool and thicken a bit. Toss with pasta or rice.

Let me tell you, it was FANTASTIC. And it's even better the next day for leftovers. I give it two thumbs up.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

2009-10-10T07:42:43Z

It's 3:38 in the god-damn morning, and I can't sleep.

My apartment is ridiculously hot, I had a nightmare about a swarm of terrible insects with human faces crawling out of my closet to get me, and my brain is buzzing with this white noise that won't stop.

I just want to go to bed.

EDIT 4:45 am: WHHHHYYYYYY CAN'T I SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Faux-Pas, Johnny/Yosaku [One Piece]

2009-10-04T16:46:14Z

Title: Faux-Pas
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Johnny/Yosaku
Word Count: 403
Genre: Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Written for: skyrat13
A/N: It's been a while since I've played in this sandbox, so I apologize if I got them all wrong. ^_^;;

Yosaku hadn’t moved from the spot beneath the tree for ten minutes. The sun danced through the leaves, leaving little patterns of light over his face and glinting off of his headband. He wouldn’t say a word. A cigarette rested between his fingers, unlit, and a far-away expression lingered on his face. Frankly, it was driving Johnny mad with distraction. Somewhere, there was a cold beer with his name on it, and he wanted to get to it quickly.

“Can we get going already? I really gotta take a piss, and I’m hungry.” Johnny fidgeted a little to emphasize his lie. Yosaku never took his eyes away from the tree as he pointed to the right.

“Go over there, then. Way, way over there. I’ll catch up.” Yosaku’s voice had a subdued, hushed quality that made Johnny momentarily forget his pressing desire to get to a town with a bar. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stood closer to his longtime partner. This tree didn’t look so unusual that it should warrant Yosaku’s undivided attention. It had a couple gashes in the trunk, but they were clearly very old.

“Don’t remember?” Yosaku’s warm breath tickled the shell of Johnny’s ear. He steeled himself from jumping, but his heartbeat sped up. “We camped here, way before we met Aniki. It was the first place we uh…”

Yosaku didn’t have to finish, because Johnny’s mind sped up to fill in the details. Blood rushed to his groin so fast that it made him a little dizzy. Suddenly the whole area took on the dazzling aura of erotic nostalgia, and a dopey grin took over Johnny’s mouth. No wonder Yosaku seemed entranced by the place; that was a monumental, stupendous, and ultimately serendipitous moment in their partnership! Johnny got so entangled in his own thoughts that he didn’t see the fist hurtling toward his head.

“I don’t know what you’re grinning about, asshole. I forgot I owed you that for finishing early and falling asleep on me.” Yosaku wore a fierce scowl, and the tranquility of the moment vanished in the passing breeze.

“HEY! I said I was sorry for that, geez, you shoulda taken it as a compliment-ow! Quit it! I’ve made up for that night a thousand times by now. But if you want,” Johnny leered as he pulled Yosaku back towards the tree, “we could make some better memories right now.”

A quick word from our sponsors...

2009-09-30T01:36:50Z

Ladies and Gentleman, we have a plotbunny!

2009-09-28T13:11:49Z

Thank you to everyone who gave me a ficlet request (and I am working on them, there are just a *lot* to do) and put up with my whining about not having a plot. You've all helped me out in one way or another, and it's pulled me out of the barren wastelands of writer's block.

I'm happy to announce that I now have a wee baby plotbunny, and at least 3 main characters brewing. For those of you who answered my poll about being included in the book, I have a way to put you in there, and may be sending you "interview questions" so that I may get to know you better. I might also send you a waiver, in case I kill you off or something haha, ahem.

This plotbunny is sooo cute. I'm going to feed it and love it until it gets so big that it swallows me whole and makes me regret ever keeping it. ^_^;;

It's Not A Love Letter

2009-09-24T03:43:39Z

Dear Heroes;

It was really nice hanging out with you the other day. I know how you get when a new season starts: the build-up, the promise of a fresh start, the ideas bouncing around in your head...yeah, I remember it all. I also remember the promises you made, how you kept promising things would get better, that things would be as good as they were in season 1, or as good as you said season 2 would be. Every time I thought you would tie up a loose end, or do something amazing, you broke my heart and hurt me. And I held on for a long time, making excuses for you and coming back over and over again. But I can't do that anymore, I can't put in that emotional investment.

I have a new love now, Glee, recognize the name? Oh don't give me that "you're just chasing after some hot young thing" line; if that was the case I would've abandoned you for Torchwood or Supernatural long ago. But Glee is funny and smart, enjoys the same things I do and takes care of me. I'll always hold a special place in my heart for you, but we have to just be friends now.
Things look interesting this season, but we have to keep it casual, alright?

Take care, I'll be watching.
Tiff

PFFFFFFFFT

2009-09-24T01:29:01Z

This was too damn funny to pass up!