Laura Bryannan

I'm boring, sorry

2009-12-29T18:15:49Z

Do one thing....

2009-12-21T12:35:33Z

...to make life easier for the critters around your home this holiday season. Check out Breathing Places for some great ideas, and Merry Christmas to those celebrating!

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 19 -- original fiction

2009-11-28T06:03:42Z

The reunion continues and Dylan learns more about John. 1433 words, worksafe. I hope everyone is surviving the Thanksgiving holiday. ^_^

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 19
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 19
by Laura Bryannan

Not human? Dylan frowned. Bad joke. Raising himself on an elbow, he eyed his lover skeptically. “You'd make a lameass vampire. No sparkles.”

John chuckled and shook his head. “No, not a vampire. Did you ever see the movie Der Himmel über Berlin by Wim Wenders? They called it Wings of Desire in the West.”

Gooseflesh rippled up Dylan's back. He had seen the movie, and he'd come away both comforted and saddened by it. Incredulous, confused, he could not understand. “Are you saying that you're the angel and I'm the circus girl?” he finally ventured.

“Well...yes,” John replied, looking both amused and apologetic.

Dylan had only seen the movie once when he was a freshman in college, but more scenes came flooding back at John's reply. The shock of awareness felt electric, almost painful, as too many pieces of the puzzle fell into place to deny what his lover was saying. Feeling as though his heart might break, he blurted, “Tell me your life isn't that gray and lonely.”

John stroked the side of his face, eyes misty again. “No, my Dylan, it is not. I see the world as you do, and I was quite enjoying my existence when you came along.”

Blushing, Dylan asked, “So that's why we can't be together? 'Cause you're an angel?”

“Yes,” came the simple but astounding reply. “I'm one of the fortunate few who are allowed to manifest here in the world, but I'm not supposed to be...um...interacting with humans.”

Dylan's mind raced. The angel in the movie had made a momentous choice, one he hadn't agreed with. Suddenly in a panic, he cried, “You can't lose your wings for me.”

“Ah, sweet boy.” John looked over his shoulder impishly. “None to lose.”

Close to hysteria, Dylan couldn't resist teasing. “You mean you still need to earn them, like Clarence?”

“Certainly not!” John feigned insult, or maybe he didn't. “I keep some rarefied company, I'll have you know.” Sighing, he smiled wistfully. “There's no going back, I'm afraid. Herr Wenders got many things right but that part wrong. I can't change what I am and remain myself.”

“How did it happen?” Dylan asked, trying to stay calm. “You said you were human once.”

John looked him straight in the eye and shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I don't know how I came to have this existence,” he admitted. “A long time ago I followed an extraordinary man and had a very satisfying life, but I can't say that's why I'm here now. Many among us had very different lives, and yet they're angels too.”

“You mean there's more of you around?”

“Of course!” John replied. “You've met a few already. Minty's like me and so is Sid, although he's higher rank and really something else altogether. But Gabriel and Rafe are big muckymucks, if you haven't figured that out already, so you keep some fine company yourself. Speaking of....” Squeezing him close with a quiet growl, he whispered, “Kiss me again before they come to get us.”

Dylan was happy to oblige, melting against the strong chest, although the alluring activity didn't stop his mind from racing. He could understand the words John was saying, but the current reality made them so hard to accept. The unique flavor that lingered on his tongue after John's orgasm was unlike anything he'd ever tasted, not pleasant or unpleasant, but seemed earthy and good because it came from him.

He could spy a small line of stubble on John's cheek his razor had missed. He knew the scent under John's arms was appropriately musty after a mighty adventure in the bedroom. John ate, belched and used the bathroom. He was hungry for parts of Dylan's body that no lover had heretofore approached. Nothing added up.

Breaking their kiss, he undid the top few buttons of John's shirt as his lover watched, curious but silent. The spray of pewter-colored hair across his breastbone seemed so masculine and animalistic compared to himself. Dylan lay his head on the nest of curls seeking reassurance, to feel the rise and fall of John's chest and the quiet thud of the heart within it. He could not understand how the creature holding him was not all man.

“You seem human enough to me,” he finally murmured.

“Oh, I am,” John replied. “When I'm corporal my body works pretty much as I remember and I enjoy it immensely. But what human can do this?”

He held out his hand and it began to fade, as Dylan gasped, mouth dry. A sudden banging on the door caused him to leap off John's chest with a shriek, both of them hurriedly sitting up as a frightening apparition entered in the room.

Not Gabriel or Sid, but the blond Valkyrie he'd seen berating John at the hospital, her eyes firing thunderbolts in every direction. Dylan's blood ran cold, instinctively burying his face in John's shoulder in hopes of hiding somehow.

“A ha!” she cried, striding into the room, followed by the imposing African-American man who had come to fetch John before. “Michael, you see? I told you he was here. Caught red-handed with the human bo....”

Dylan gathered the courage to peek at her as she trailed off, looking dumfounded. Shooting a laser glance at Michael, she barked, “What do you know about this?”

Michael appeared amused, or maybe Dylan was imagining it. “You're the one who has insisted there's a problem here, Uriel.”

Face stormy, she stalked over to him to engage in a furious, but impossible to overhear conversation. Dylan turned to John, who shrugged, face mischievous, and promptly tackled him into a kiss. Laying on top, lodging one thigh between his own, the fit was too sweet not to grind a little bit even with witnesses. Dylan was ready to forget the inevitable when it finally arrived.

“John,” came a deep voice. “That's enough.”

He broke their kiss with a wink and sat up as Dylan grabbed his glasses from the nightstand so he could properly view their foe. The woman's golden hair was done in a long braid that reached to her ass, and her creamy white suit made her look every inch a Nordic princess. The way her mere presence froze his balls sealed the impression. But she peered at Dylan with more curiosity than anger at this point and asked, “What is your name, young man?”

“Dylan Wozniak,” he replied, amazed he could find his voice.

“Is that your father's name?” she continued.

“No, ma'am, my mother's. I don't know anything about my father.”

She glanced at Michael but he remained impassive, so she returned to Dylan. “And your mother's name?”

“Anna Marie Wozniak.”

She and Michael closed their eyes for a few moments, concentrating, then suddenly faced each other open-mouthed, incredulous. “You've got to talk to him,” she told Michael.

He harrumphed. “You talk to him.”

She frowned, turning her glare at John. Pointing her finger ominously, she exclaimed, “You should not be here. Come away. Now.” Turning on her heel, she exited the room without waiting for John to obey.

Michael headed toward the door as well. “One minute, John,” he said, giving Dylan a brief nod before leaving them alone.

Suddenly faced with another separation, Dylan was filled with dread, but John seemed nonplussed. As they tucked in their shirts, making themselves presentable, he noted, “Something's going on. What's up with your father?”

“Why is everyone bugging me about my dad?” Dylan wondered. “Sid asked too.”

Instantly John became more curious. “He did? What did he say?”

“He told me Gabriel said I reminded her of someone,” Dylan replied. “It's just the Johnny Depp thing, right?”

“Hmmm,” John pondered. “Well, I don't know what it could be, but I'll try and find out.” Pulling him into a hug before they reached the door, he received another heady, but all too brief, kiss. “Don't worry, my Dylan,” John whispered. “I'll see you again soon. I'm sure of it.”

Dylan didn't want to face the scary people on the other side of the door but there was nothing to be done. “Do you require fare home?” Michael asked him. When Dylan shook his head, begging off, he was introduced to a man who looked butler-ish. “Stephen will show you to the door.”

John left his side, but the sad, resigned air he wore at their first parting was nowhere in evidence. He smiled warmly, giving Dylan a reassuring nod that buoyed his heart, and the three of them vanished.

to be continued

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 18 -- original fiction

2009-11-13T01:02:56Z

The reunion and more! 1303 words, not very worksafe. ^_^

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 18
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 18
by Laura Bryannan

Dylan could remember nothing of the time between Minty's announcement and his sprint from the elevator, frantically scanning the lobby of the hospital for a familiar face thirty-six hours later. Stepping outside, he was ready to believe it was all a dream when he spied a dude next to a limo holding a sign that said WOZNIAK. Heart stopping, ohmygod it's really happening, he had to breathe a few seconds to calm himself before approaching.

“That's me,” he told the driver and the man nodded, opening the door for him.

“This way, sir,” he said. “M'lady is waiting.”

M'lady? Dylan wondered, but said nothing. He was content to watch the city fly by the window and indulge his curiosity about where the meeting would take place. Finally the car stopped in front of a large house buried in one of the posh neighborhoods near Oak Street Beach.

The driver opened his door and also the iron gate in front of the property. “Go ahead, sir. They're expecting you.”

When Gabriel answered the bell, it was almost too much reality to handle. “H-Hi,” he managed, still totally unnerved by her physical presence.

“Hello Dylan.” She smiled, motioning him inside. “Come along. I'm not sure how much time we have.”

He followed her in a trance, barely noticing the spacious front hall and its stately appointments as they headed up a spiral staircase to the second floor. She smelled like a garden on a hot summer's day, when so many flowers are in bloom you can't identify one single aroma. The icy sea green hue of her suit glowed in the dim light, and Dylan had to force his eyes away from the graceful movement of her hips as they climbed, lest he think himself totally depraved.

Finally upstairs, she guided him into a small suite full of mahogany furniture, including a loveseat with Sid upon it, who jumped up, exclaiming, “Here you are! Hello!” But Dylan barely had a chance to shake his hand when he heard movement and a catch of breath behind him. He turned and there was John, looking like that dream come true Minty had talked about.

Dylan ran to him, knees weakening as the familiar arms gathered him close, enveloping him in the scent of his beloved. “It's really you,” he whispered into John's neck.

“Ah, Dylan, Dylan,” came the impassioned reply, squeezing him tightly. “I'm so glad you're here.” The hug could have continued for another hour as far as Dylan was concerned, but eventually John loosened his hold just enough to pull him through the doorway. Catching John's grateful nod at their benefactors before he closed the door, Dylan discovered they were in the bedroom of the suite and could contain himself no longer.

“C'mere,” he demanded, pulling the handsome face into a kiss. John obliged him with a quiet growl and they stood together getting blissfully reacquainted. It felt like coming home, so delicious Dylan succumbed immediately, his erection uncomfortable in his jeans as their hips fondly remembered previous dances.

When the body in his arms began trembling, Dylan broke the embrace, backing away enough to gauge his lover's mood. John was misty-eyed, tears threatening, which sparked a brief panic. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

John chuckled, bumping foreheads. “Silly boy, everything is right,” he said. “I was so afraid I'd never see you again.”

Struck dumb by the tender emotion in John's eyes, Dylan could do nothing but kiss him again. It was softer this time, less insistent and more lingering, as though the reality of the situation was just beginning to dawn on them. All the lonely days and nights were banished in an explosion of awareness. It's really him!

Dylan felt ecstatic, grateful, needing to sing his lover's praises but finding his brain malfunctioning as usual. Suddenly struck by an inspiration, he realized there was one gift he could give that would say everything he longed to express without all those pesky words. Sinking to his knees, he grabbed John's belt buckle as the man gasped, backing into the wall.

“Dylan, no!” he cried. “We can't.”

“Why not?” Dylan asked, gleefully noticing how John's protest did not include any attempt to actually stop him from unzipping his jeans.

“They'll hear.”

“Be quiet, then.”

“No, you don't understand. They'll hear no mater what.”

“Who cares? They know what we're about, right?” The more John resisted, the more important it became to accomplish the task. Undaunted by the fact that he had zero experience, Dylan yanked the sedate navy boxers down enough to expose a partly-erect prize and pounced.

John's strangled moans as Dylan explored assured him that, while still a novice, what his technique lacked in skill it more than made up for in enthusiasm. He had forgotten the heady effect of John's most private scent, how it could make his heart do flip flops sniffing it on his hands hours after they were parted. It was acting like a drug now, and he was aware of nothing but the twitching, alive thing in his mouth and the sweet song of its owner.

When he finally raised his head, triumphant he had swallowed, he was amazed to find John horizontal on the floor. How did that happen? Still biting his index finger and not managing to be very quiet at all, his lover was the most delicious sight Dylan had ever seen. Struck by a second inspiration, he dropped his own pants, spit into his hand and slicked up his aching self.

Pushing John's knees to his chest he thrust home as, eyes wide, his lover gulped but did not challenge him. It didn't take long because it was all too much. Watching the beautiful man beneath him arch, writhe and claw the carpet, hearing his muted, “Unf,” every time he thrust, fueled an inferno within Dylan that went nuclear in no time at all.

He could hear John whispering, “Okay, okay....” as his brain turned back on, finding himself flopped on the jeans still wrapped around his lover's knees.

Guiltily wondering if he'd gone too far, he peeked into John's face to discover an impish glance and an arched brow. “Feeling a little angry after all, I see,” he noted. “Not that I blame you.”

“I'm not angry,” Dylan protested, truly not realizing he was until John said so.

John smiled knowingly as he stood, hitching his pants in the process, and sat on the bed, motioning Dylan to join him. “Come snuggle,” he said. “I'm not ready to let go of you yet.”

Dylan happily joined him, entwining their legs together and laying his head on the broad chest so he could listen to John's heartbeat. For many long minutes they were quiet, breathing together. Even the hands that rarely ceased their seeking and exploring were finally still. This is all I want. This is all I need, Dylan thought, happily drifting off into oblivion.

Startled by John clearing his throat, his announcement was most unwelcome. “You'll hate me if I let you fall asleep and sneak away without answering your questions, but I'm sorely tempted.”

After working all night and much sweet loving, Dylan was ready to crash. “I don't care,” he said truthfully, nuzzling closer, eyes still closed. “It's enough to be with you again.”

“I haven't wanted to speak about it,” John continued, ignoring him, “for fear you'd think me...well...crazy.”

Despite his sleepiness, the words disturbed Dylan enough to rouse him, concerned with the cold dread that was suddenly creeping along the edge of his awareness. Sighing, he whispered, “Okay, then. Tell me the big secret.”

John took a deep breath, paused dramatically then stated, “I'm not human. Not anymore, anyway.”

to be continued

Mansmex in a mainstream video game?!?!

2009-11-12T14:22:23Z

It's true, it's true! My flist pal, dr_schreaber found this little gem and I had to pass it along.

A little elf/man action

In other news, I'm about 90% finished with the next chapter of Knockin'. Maybe tonight or tomorrow if I can focus.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 17 -- original fiction

2009-10-27T14:34:20Z

Dylan's veggie adventure. Sorry for the long wait. I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write. 1408 words, not so worksafe. The song Dylan sings is here, if you're curious.

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 17
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 17
by Laura Bryannan

Dylan ended up with a whole salad worth of veggies because he was sure the checkout lady would think him a perv if he bought only a cucumber. Throwing everything but that into the fridge, he popped The Princess Bride into the player and kicked back on the couch to watch.

He was surprised by how little of the movie he'd seen, realizing he'd been paying far more attention to the beautiful man sitting next to him than the adventure on the screen. Watching alone proved similarly difficult, for his memories of that rose gold afternoon proved far more alluring than the film. This is where we started making out, he thought, closing his eyes and blissfully reliving the experience in his imagination.

He loved the way John kissed, always beginning the same way, with a few chaste pecks, gently sucking Dylan's lower lip in between his own before offering the tip of his tongue. Dylan would latch on greedily, sucking it into his mouth to shudder at the sensuous way it would tease his own. And the quiet contented sounds John made sparked hot desire that only one undertaking would quench.

Eyes still closed, Dylan trailed a finger along his neck and collarbone, recalling how John's nibbling habits always sent goosebumps cascading. His body jerked at the shocking sensation as he reached under his shirt and grazed a nipple. Gently flicking a hardening nub, he whimpered, the erotic response still as surprising as the first time John attacked him there.

Remembering another, more intimate caress, Dylan loosened his jeans and dove inside. He reached behind his balls, ignoring his usual destination, to tentatively explore the strange new world John had revealed to him. So sensitive was the opening, he lurched even at his own touch, shivering in pleasure at the delightful commotion it caused his nervous system.

Feeling brave and hungry for more, he grabbed the cucumber, suddenly realizing he owned no official lubrication. Eyes casting about the room, the butter dish on the coffee table from dinner last night provided a solution. Greasing up one end, he slid the toy home, moaning out loud at the penetration.

“Ohhh, my Dylan, thank you. Thank you so much!”

Dylan had forgotten John's trembling embrace, how he'd almost chanted the words as he gently pushed himself deeper. The sweet sense of possession was overwhelming him again. He could imagine John snuggled behind, setting his lower half aflame with every sensuous thrust, whispering the endearments that melted his heart.

“This means so much, you can't know. Sweet, sweet boy. Thank you, my love, thank you.”

Swept away, Dylan could almost feel John's breath in his hair, the warmth of his body curled around him accompanying the sinful attention to his cock. “Wait,” he murmured, not wanting to release so fast. “It's too soon.” But no one was listening and he found it impossible to slow down or draw matters out any further.

“Come for me, Dylan,” a lusty voice commanded, and he did just that, riding the blissful sensations skyward before falling into oblivion.

Beethoven entered his awareness and he sat up, startled awake, jeans still around his ankles. Groggily fishing for his cell, he answered even though the ID said “Private Caller” because he was too stupid not to. But there was no one on the other end, and he scratched his head in confusion before spying the clock on the cable box.

“Shit!” he cried, jumping up. It was 10pm! How had he slept so long? If he didn't move his ass, he would miss the bus and have to buy a cab to the hospital. Good thing the phone rang, he thought as he stumbled into the shower.

He was fifteen minutes late to work, but thankfully there was no one around to notice or care. Dumping his stuff on his desk, he headed over to The Terminal's room, still blissed out from lunch with Sid and his erotic adventure after. The space seemed unearthly quiet, constraining the heart that felt too big to for his chest, so he began to sing,

“I gotta feeling
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night....”

Dancing around the beds, the uplifting vibes of the song buoyed his enthusiasm. He couldn't remember all the words, but it didn't matter. In the presence of such an accepting audience, he could push past his reserved nature and emote to his heart's content, grateful to feel so joyous.

“Shhhhh!”

Dylan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He turned to find Miguel, who had been comatose since a car accident over a month ago, watching him with lucid eyes. “Too noisy,” he rasped, as Dylan picked his jaw off the floor.

“Mr. Delgado. Holy shit!” Dylan cried, unsure what to do. “Lemmie get somebody.” He dashed out of the room to the nurses' station. “I was walking by and I heard something,” he lied, deciding it was better not to admit how he spent time with The Terminals. “One of the patients is awake!”

The news caused a flurry of activity and Dylan followed them all back to the room to watch from the sidelines. Miguel was indeed out of his coma, but remembered little of anything, it appeared. Dylan gleaned from the nurses' conversation that the only family he had left was a grandson who lived in California who had not come to fetch his grandpa after the accident.

Everyone was dumbfounded but pleased, and Dylan decided to get back to work as the nurses bustled about, murmuring, “What a night!” and, “It's a miracle!” to each other.

Exiting the room brought another surprise, for there was a familiar face in the hall waiting for him. “Ms. Minty!" he gasped, heart beating faster. "Hey, isn't it something? Mr. Delgado is out of his coma.”

She looked as surprised as the other nurses. “Miguel Delgado?!?” she asked, frowning. “But I.... Hmmm.” Suddenly one eyebrow arched and she gave him a piercing glance. “What have you been up to, young man?”

There was no lying to this woman. “I didn't do anything, honest,” he said, confused. “I was feeling good so I was singing, that's all. The next thing I know, he's shushing me and I almost shit my pants.” He cringed, hand flying to his mouth. “Ooops, sorry.”

Thankfully, Minty didn't seem mad. In fact, she got positively twinkly. “You were singing?”

Dylan shrugged. “Not well.”

“Very interesting,” she said, wearing the same kind of you're-the-cutest-puppy look Sid had shown him earlier that afternoon. It pleased him in the exact same way too, even though he had no idea what he was doing right. “Well,” she continued in conspiratorial tones, “I have news for you. Can you meet John for breakfast the day after tomorrow?”

All the blood in his head rushed to his groin and he felt dizzy. “B-Breakfast?” he stammered, mortified to be saying such a thing to this stately, older woman when it seemed so lewd in his mind.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, grinning like she totally knew what happened to him when he heard the words breakfast and John in the same sentence.

He shook his head, praying that the crotch of his jeans wasn't pulsing too noticeably. “No ma'am.”

Clearly sensing his inability to focus, she explained, “We'll send a car for you after your shift gets off at seven. It will be out front. All right? Boy, that smile of yours is as golden as a dream come true.”

Breathless, feeling the need to leap about, all he could manage was, “Yes, ma'am.”

“And here's a little something from me,” she added, handing him a Walgreen's bag, twinkling like Grandma again.

The tiny eyeglass repair kit caused huge consternation. He pulled off his glasses in dread, only to find the nightmare real. He'd been seeing John all this time with a staple holding one side of his frames together. Damn! Facing Minty helplessly, he sighed, “Wow, thanks. I forgot.”

“You won't forget about breakfast?” she asked, teasing.

“No, ma'am.”

“See you later, then.” She patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion and turned to head down the hall.

Falling into his office, Dylan dumped the contents of the kit on his desk, deciding he'd fix his glasses first thing, trembling hands or no.

to be continued

"I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas

2009-10-27T14:26:42Z

This is the song Dylan sings in the current chapter.

When I showed Oprah's flash mob vid to hubby, he turned me onto this lipdub and I decided to post it instead of just the song itself. Performed by the students at the University of Quebec Communications Department, done in one take with just a few hours of preparation. Isn't that Amal at 2:11? ^_~

I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas

I gotta feeling...
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling...
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling... (Woohoo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling... (Woohoo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

Tonight's the night
Let's live it up
I got my money
Let's spend it up
Go out and smash it
Like Oh My God
Jump off that sofa
Let's kick it OFF

I know that we'll have a ball
If we get down
And go out
And just lose it all
I feel stressed out
I won't let it go
Lets go way out spaced out
And loosing all control

Fill up my cup
Mazel tov
Look at her dancing
Just take it... OFF
Lets paint the town
We'll shut it down
Let's burn the roof
And then we'll do it again

Lets do it
Lets do it
Lets do it
Lets do it
And do it
And do it
Let's live it up
And do it
And do it
And do it
Do it, do it
Lets do it
Lets do it
Lets do it

Cause I gotta feeling... (WoooHooo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling... (WoooHooo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling
Tonight's the night (HEY! )
Let's live it up (lets live it up)
I got my money (I'm paid)
Lets spend it up (Lets spend it up)
Go out and smash it (Smash it)
Like Oh My God (Like Oh My God)
Jump off that sofa (Come On! )
Lets kick it OFF

Fill up my cup (Drank)
Mazel tov (La chaim)
Look at her dancing (Move it Move it)
Just take it... OFF
Lets paint the town (Paint the town)
We'll shut it down (Shut it down)
Lets burn the roof (Woooooo)
And then we'll do it again

Lets do it (x4)
And do it (2x)
Let's live it up
And do it (3x)
Do it, do it
Lets do it(3x)
Do it, do it, do it, do it

Here we come
Here we go
We gotta rock
Easy come
Easy go
Now we on top
Feel the shot
Body rock
Rock it don't stop
Round and round
Up and down
Around the clock

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday
Friday, Saturday
Saturday to Sunday

Get, get, get, get, get with us
You know what we say (say)
Party everyday (x2)

I gotta feeling (WooHooo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

I gotta feeling (WooHooo)
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

Woohoo

waves

2009-10-21T19:12:29Z

I've been a poop, lately, haven't I? Sorry 'bout that. John and Dylan have disappeared, I know not where. Even though I know what is happening next, I can't get it up to write. Maybe next week if I can find my way out of this blah I'm in.

Anywhoo, I forget where I got this pic, but it always makes me smile. I hope all your bottoms are more active than mine.

Afraid of the Dark?

2009-10-07T13:42:52Z

Don't be! Come join us! This is an oldie but a goodie, and I don't believe I've ever posted it in my journal.

WOOT! Knockin' fanfiction!

2009-10-05T00:55:16Z

My flist pal, achariya wrote a lovely piece about Sid that I just had to share, it touched me so! And if you're still working out who he is, it might offer a clue or ten. ^_~

P.S. If you don't want to be spoiled, you might want to wait and read this after a few more chapters.

The Book of the Bardo

link is to her writing journal

I love my home town!

2009-09-29T13:32:15Z

A great BEP song and totally cool flash mob dance. Oprah's reaction is priceless!

The video has been pulled from youtube, but you can find it here.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 16 -- original fiction

2009-09-29T03:27:40Z

The Letter! 2014 words, totally worksafe.

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 16
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 16
by Laura Bryannan

Standing in the elevator, reading frantically, Dylan let his floor come and go and didn't even realize it. The note said

Dearest Dylan,

If you're reading this letter it must mean that Sid has found you, and we're one tiny step closer to seeing each other again. I miss you very much, and feel awful when I think of how confused you must be. I would prefer to be more forthright about my situation, but fear you would find the truth hard to accept and come away even more confused than you are now.

It was selfish of me to become involved, but I fell in love with your compassionate heart, your wry sense of humor and self-effacing ways. You are beautiful inside and out, my Dylan, and I am smitten. Please know that I am trying to find my way back to you, but the obstacles remain great. My days are lonely, but I console myself with this letter, caressing these words instead of you, dreaming that you will one day read them.

I trust Sid implicitly and you may too. Anyone else he introduces to you can be considered a friend as well. We are working toward a reunion, if however brief. I owe you an explanation, but in my arms, not in writing. I pray you don't hate me for what I have done and will choose to see me once again.

And now that I have said everything I wanted to say, I feel honor-bound to include the rest. My situation is such that our long term prospects remain nil. There can be no white houses with picket fences for us, growing old together, side by side on the porch swing. In all good conscience I cannot ask you to forego all the wonderful things that life has to offer a young man. If you tell Sid that you've decided a reunion cannot be, I will understand completely.

I'm sure you know my preference in the matter, and will continue to hope that my intrepid liaison brings me good news.

With deepest affection,

John

Dylan was stunned. Having no idea how he got to his desk, he sat there for a long time, re-reading the blessed words. The last paragraph barely registered, so focused was he on I fell in love with... and We are working toward a reunion... Absolutely no work was accomplished, for he could not tear his eyes away from small piece of paper with the beautiful handwriting and how ecstatic it made him feel.

The next few nights he dashed into work full of excitement, propping his office door open with a chair and watching The Terminal's room like a hawk in hopes of bumping into Minty again. Unfortunately, if she was around he didn't catch her, and he soon began to lose hope.

Finally, it arrived in the form of Ode to Joy on his cell, dragging him bleary-eyed out of bed one gray afternoon a few days later. Not recognizing the initials S.G. on the ID, he was ready to ignore the call, but suddenly realized it might be Sid and scrambled for the On button. All was confirmed when he heard the familiar accent. “Dylan! It's Sid. Do you have time this afternoon?”

He did, and he was hungry too. “Wanna go somewhere to eat?” he asked in reply.

“Sure,” Sid agreed. “Let me be Mister Nosy Nose and invite myself over. Then we can go somewhere in your neighborhood, alright?”

Dylan tried to remember the state of his living room and decided it wouldn't take too long to straighten up. “Uh, okay,” he agreed. If Sid wanted to stop by for some reason, he wasn't going to say no. He got the place ready then snooped out the front window, curious whether his visitor would arrive in a cab or a limo—it was a cab—and invited the dapper man in. He was wearing jeans today, with a simple shirt and the kind of grandpa sweater Dylan preferred himself.

“What a beautiful apartment!” Sid exclaimed. “And such a lovely neighborhood too. I never understood why John wanted to live in that awful little house so close to the hospital.”

“Thanks,” Dylan replied. Agreeing with Sid's opinion of John's place made him instantly likable, but he felt he should defend his lover anyway. “Commuting is a pain. Maybe he didn't want to deal with it.”

Sid smiled at him in the funniest way, making Dylan feel like he was a puppy who had just performed a cute trick, even though he had no idea what it was. “Yes. Well, I believe you said you were hungry,” he said, suddenly matter-of-fact. “The business district at the end of the block seemed pretty bustling. Is it worth checking out?”

It was, so they strolled down the street past the Chinese take out, the Mexican taqueria and the fancy white tablecloth place that wasn't open yet. Finally they came to the beer and burger joint. “How about here?” Sid asked. “Do you know if it's any good?”

“It's decent,” Dylan told him. It was a little expensive for what you got, but the beef was above-average, and there was always free popcorn on the table. “Let's do it!”

They didn't have to wait in the middle of the afternoon and Dylan was happily amazed at how comfortable he felt with the older man. He'd been worried after the call, unsure of what they'd have to talk about, but Sid was so easygoing he stopped being uptight.

“I thought all folks from India were vegetarian,” he noted, curious at Sid's choice of a 1/3 pounder and a Guinness.

“Oh, I was, for a very long time,” Sid admitted. “And when I'm at home I eat that way because that's what tends to be prepared. But when I visit a city like Chicago, I'm all for the decadent stuff...stuffed pizza, steak and such.” He chomped into his burger with enthusiasm, sharing a conspiratorial glance that made Dylan grin.

Their conversation was full of the typical pleasantries until it moved in a fateful direction. “Did you grow up in Chicago, Dylan?” Sid asked.

“Yeah, on the south side,” he was told.

“It must be nice to be so close to your family.”

Dylan shrugged. “Only my uncles are left. They're okay, I guess, but I don't get down to see them too often.”

Sid looked sympathetic. “John said you were orphaned quite young. I'm so sorry.” Dylan sighed inwardly. He always hated talking about all that. He braced himself for more, but Sid did not offer the usual inanities. Instead, the next thing out of his mouth was a bit of a shock. “Gabriel says you remind her of someone. What can you tell me of your father?”

“Nothing,” Dylan told him honestly, assuming Gabriel was thinking of Johnny Depp like everyone else. “My mom was young. I guess it was a one night stand kind of thing because he was never around. No one ever talked about him and I was too young to ask any penetrating questions about it.”

“I see,” came the reply. “And you've never been curious enough to talk to your uncles?”

“Nope,” Dylan admitted, suddenly wondering why he hadn't.

“It might be a fruitful discussion,” Sid noted.

Dylan definitely agreed, but the whole conversation was freaking him out, so he changed the subject to his current obsession. “Thanks for playing go-between for us,” he said sincerely. “That letter is the best thing that's happened to me since...well, you know.”

“I'm glad to help,” Sid replied. “I take it he didn't manage to chase you off.”

“No way!” he blurted. Gazing into the fond expression, Dylan felt he could say anything. “Tell me about John.”

Sid chuckled. “Something good or bad?”

Surprised at the choice, Dylan had to think for a moment. “Bad,” he decided.

Nodding in appreciation, Sid said, “I've known John for a very long time and feel privileged to call him a friend. But I must confess he has one great flaw: an apparent addiction to romantic tragedy. Some souls seem to be more interested yearning for love than attaining it, and that has certainly been John's pattern.

“Let me tell you a few secrets about my friend,” he continued. “The one who owned John's heart first (and may still own it, if I'm to be honest) cares for him dearly—perhaps even above all others—but not like that, if you know what I mean.”

Dylan nodded, his heart wrenching in sympathy, suddenly faced with how little he really knew about his lover. After spending his youth carrying a torch for Lewis, he knew full well what it was like to moon over someone who did not desire you they way you desired them.

“John's second love also cares deeply, and tried very hard to be the kind of partner John needed,” Sid added.

“Are you talking about Raphael?” Dylan asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Rafe is brilliant, great company and an excellent conversationalist who knows a little something about everything. They got along well, all things considered, and were together a long while. But, in the end, Rafe is a creature of the mind and our John is ruled by his heart. Raphael simply cannot love John, or anyone possibly, the way John wants to be loved.” He leaned forward and gave Dylan a meaningful glance. “The way you love him.”

Dylan blushed to his ears, even though he could tell Sid wasn't talking just about the sex. “I do love him,” he declared passionately, realizing it for the first time.

“Yes, I can see that,” Sid replied. “And he, you. But therein lies our concern, you see. For you are yet one more unattainable goal he's set his sights on.”

“But I'm not unattainable!” Dylan complained, feeling frustrated. “I don't get it.”

He could tell from Sid's pained expression that there would be no useful information forthcoming. “It's hard to explain,” he apologized.

“John wrote in his letter that there's no way we can be together,” Dylan admitted quietly. “That there's no future for us. Is it true?”

Sid sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “On the surface of things, I suppose it is,” he said. “But you never know. As I mentioned before, John has always been a bit of a...how would you say...drama queen. Despite his guilt-ridden warning, he wants to see you as badly as you want to see him, and we're trying to find a way to accomplish that.”

Dylan's heart lept. “You mean, it might actually happen?” John had said something along those lines in his letter but needed to know for sure.

“Yes,” Sid assured him, smiling warmly. “Whether a future for the two of you exists cannot be predicted. My advice would be to live for what you have now, and not let today's decisions be clouded by worries of what unknowns may come.”

Dylan had already decided that himself, but hearing this man he respected say it out loud suddenly made it seem more reasonable than the rose colored dream he'd considered it before. It was such a relief, Dylan laughed. “You're right,” he exulted. “Thanks!”

He hung with Sid on Ashland until he caught a cab, then headed toward home, feeling happier than he had in a very long time. With the entire evening to kill before work, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Marching to the local video store, he grabbed their only copy of The Princess Bride, his imagination already aswim in blissful memories.

Passing by the small market that lived on the corner, he was suddenly struck by a lewd inspiration, but knew he had nothing at home suitably John-like for the task. Blushing furiously, he entered the establishment clutching the DVD to his chest like a shield. Wandering casually over to the produce section, he eyed the stuff that grew long and thin in hopes of choosing the most perfect sword.

to be continued

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 15 -- original fiction

2009-09-20T03:45:25Z

I don't usually like to post on the weekend and my net access will be unpredictable Sunday, but this chapter is done so here' tis anyway. 1369 words, perfectly worksafe. The next installment is half written, so there shouldn't be too long of a wait.

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 15
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 15
by Laura Bryannan

“Okay, so you're undercover cops or something,” Dylan replied, not particularly surprised at the news, considering his inability to find John in any of the staff databases. “But why is he in trouble? I don't get it. We didn't do anything wrong.”

“I understand how frustrating it must be,” she began, “but I'm not sure how much I can tell you.”

Frustrating didn't even begin to describe it! Feeling grumpy and defiant at her evasiveness, he groused, “You know, I've never liked mysteries. I always read the ending first.”

She harrumphed, hands on hips. “Didn't you say you worked here, young man?”

Guts quailing, he stammered, “Oh, uh...yeah,” fearing he'd just blown his chances with his cocky attitude.

“Well, why don't you get to it?” she demanded, wagging her finger.

Dylan cringed. Who cared about work when such amazing events were afoot? Stuck in place, he opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn't know how to respond, unwilling to believe he'd been wrong about her wanting to help.

Her gaze softened at his distress. Glancing at her watch, she said, “I'll be taking a break at 2:30. How 'bout we meet at the cafeteria then? I didn't expect to find you so quickly and must hobnob with my fellows before we speak further.”

With a huge sigh of relief, Dylan happily agreed, gushing, “Thanks so much...uh....” He trailed off, not wanting to reveal how long he'd been listening at the door.

“Minty,” she told him. “You may call me Minty.”

Hearing her say the name he'd picked up eavsdropping made him feel a little more sane and a lot less crazy. He still couldn't figure out who she'd been talking to, but that mystery could keep for a few more hours. Sprinting to the door, he turned, flashing what he hoped was his best smile. “It's a date, Ms. Minty. Later.”

He saw her blink and maybe even smile before he made his escape across the hall, locking the door behind him so he could jump around like a madman. Thankfully, the payroll upgrade was enough of a bear to code that it absorbed most of the three hours he had to kill before he could go meet Minty. The hope that somehow, some way, he might get to see John again fueled his concentration and he nailed the sucker with a half hour to spare.

Sure she wouldn't stand him up, Dylan was nevertheless relieved to find Minty in the cafeteria, and equally grateful the place was almost empty that early in the morning. However, she had two companions, and he needed to stand there gawking awhile before he felt ready to approach them.

The man had to be Sid. Thirty or fortysomething of Indian descent, his face was handsome, with wavy dark hair that reached to his shoulders. He wore Friday casual khakis with a faded blue shirt and was of average height and build, several inches shorter than Dylan. Alone, he would have turned heads, but the woman he was with was so beautiful, Dylan could see only her.

She was as tall and lean as a model, with long dark brown hair pinned back at the sides but left to flow behind. Her ethnicity was impossible to place, maybe Indian or Polynesian, but her look was exotic, with an easy smile that Dylan immediately fell in love with. Wearing a fashionably feminine suit in an icy, jewel-like lavender tone, she didn't seem as intimidating as the other mysterious Beautiful People he'd seen with John.

Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, Dylan walked toward the group, and they turned to him with welcoming faces. “Ah! Here he is,” Minty cried. “Everyone, this is Dylan.”

The man extended his hand and Dylan shook it. “Sid,” he announced. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Dylan's face was steaming, and not just because he'd been snug in John's bed when Sid first learned of his existence. Standing so near to the beautiful lady was giving him the heebie jeebies, almost as though she were radiating some kind of electric current that made his skin prickle and the hair on his body (and something else) stand on end.

“This is Gabriel,” Sid told him. He gestured in her direction and Dylan finally mustered the wherewithal to look up into her face, amazed she had to have at least three or four inches on him.

“Hello,” she said, her smile genuine. “You must be full of questions for us.”

“'Lo,” he mumbled, swimming in the warmth of her sparkling, golden brown eyes. If an uncomfortable silence passed, he wasn't aware of it, but finally something tugged at his hand.

“Well come and sit down, Dylan,” Minty admonished, pulling him toward a chair. “And close your mouth while you're at it.”

They gathered around a table, chuckling, then gazed at him expectantly. Frantic, he felt unnerved enough to blurt, “Who are you people?”

“We're John's friends,” Sid said. “And we're trying to understand what happened in hopes of remedying the sticky situation he finds himself in.”

Thinking of John suffering because of him brought the wash of sick guilt it always did. Sensing his discomfort, Minty leaned forward. “What is it you want here, Dylan?”

I want his hands on my body, his tongue in my mouth, his cock up my ass.... Dylan could feel his face getting hot again and tried to think clearly. What could he say in polite company? “I need to see him,” he decided. “What can I do to help?”

“We're trying to figure that out,” Sid informed him. “Thus our fact finding mission.”

“Did John pursue you?” Gabriel asked, causing Dylan to become instantly wary despite her gentle expression.

“No way,” he told her truthfully. “He tried to shove me aside more than once, but I wasn't having it.” They all seemed to breathe a little easier at that, and Dylan was relieved too, deciding he'd keep the wolflit glances and innuendo-filled conversations to himself.

“I've wondered how you met,” Sid mused.

“We kept bumping into each other in the terminal patient's room," Dylan admitted.

“You're not a doctor,” Gabriel correctly noted. “What were you doing in there?”

Dylan shrugged. “I like to visit with them on my breaks. I'm usually the only one in the office on the night shift and they're good company, I guess.”

She smiled. “I see.”

Dylan watched them exchange meaningful glances and hoped that was a good sign. Unable to contain himself any further, he exclaimed, “Look, can't you tell me what's going on here? I'm good. I won't tell anyone. I don't have any friends to tell, anyway.”

They appeared sympathetic, but Sid said, “You'll have to be patient a little longer, I'm afraid. Would you consider sharing your phone number? I'd like to have a way of getting in touch if there is any further news, and perhaps we could go out for a beer or something while I'm still in town.”

“That'd be great!” Dylan enthused. He noticed that Sid didn't offer his own number in return, but he wasn't going to push his luck and ask for it.

“We should let you get back to work, Dylan,” Gabriel stated. “It's been so nice to meet you.”

She stood up while Minty and Sid did the same. It was obviously brushoff time and Dylan's heart sank. Their visit raised more questions than it answered, but his brain was in the mire and unable to work out what he wanted to know. Waiting together at the elevator bank—they were going in opposite directions—Dylan could think of nothing to say that might keep them around a little longer.

The up elevator dinged and Sid jumped. “Ooops, I almost forgot,” he said, looking sheepish. “This is for you.” He pulled a small envelope out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Dylan. Seeing his name on the front written in John's familiar, old-fashioned script made him feel feverish and faint.

Suddenly anxious to escape, he lept into the elevator crying, “Wow! Thanks!” and didn't even wait until the doors closed to rip the missive open.

to be continued

This is just too sad

2009-09-13T20:10:18Z

PRINCETON, NJ -- On the eve of the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin's birth, a new Gallup Poll shows that only 39% of Americans say they "believe in the theory of evolution," while a quarter say they do not believe in the theory, and another 36% don't have an opinion either way. These attitudes are strongly related to education and, to an even greater degree, religiosity.

On Darwin’s Birthday, Only 4 in 10 Believe in Evolution

GLEE!

2009-09-10T14:47:52Z

Anyone else watching? I've really enjoyed the first two episodes, but I'm a choir geek from way back.

You can find it on Hulu if you aren't catching it on TV.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 14 -- original fiction

2009-09-09T03:26:35Z

I thought it quite Twilight Zone that life found me at Wrigley Field last Friday afternoon as I was working on this chapter. I hadn't been there in over twenty years! Anywhoo, here's a little more plotzes. 1094 words, perfectly worksafe.

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 14
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 14
by Laura Bryannan

Dylan was sure fenugreek was a dream thing, a nonsense word that didn't exist outside of his warped brain. So when Google found it (despite the fact that he'd spelled it wrong) he was floored. Frantically skimming the Wiki listing, he saw that in Egypt, it was prepared in tea, and further down he read, in the United States where maple syrup is popular but expensive, fenugreek is widely used in lower-cost syrup products as a maple syrup flavoring.

He couldn't believe it!

Heart pounding, mind racing, Dylan tried to understand what had just happened. The dream seemed so sweet, so real, he could still feel the strength of grandpa's arms and the warm affection of his embrace. But it was John's beloved scent that hovered around him even now, and his body was responding as though it knew something he didn't. Had John actually visited? Unable to make that leap, he decided his desperate longing had produced the amazing experience, and felt grateful to be reconnected to both his grandfather and his lover.

The wonderful feeling carried him through the morning, and he took a leisurely stroll over to Wrigley Field, stopping at a favorite diner along the way to have breakfast. It was great to sit in the real seats and the Cubs even won the game, but Dylan walked away from the experience disappointed. It didn't help that the first thing out of Lewis' mouth was, “Dude! What's with the hair? It looks like you stuck your finger in a socket.”

“It's good to see you too,” came Dylan's rueful reply, and it was downhill from there.

Lewis looked about the same, although he seemed a lot less impressive than Dylan remembered. At first he chalked it up to growing another inch or two since they last met. But as the innings ticked by, Dylan began to realize that he'd not only grown up but beyond his old friend. It had been over two years since they last spoke, but he couldn't think of what to say to the guy, which felt really awkward. John was the only thing on his mind anyway, and he sure as hell wasn't going to open up to Lewis about all that.

Lewis seemed nonplussed, chundering on about various boring nothings, and the sad reality began to dawn in Dylan's mind that the crush he'd had on his Big Brother no longer existed. His affection was firmly attached to another, and hanging with Lewis only brought that truth into sharp focus. It was double depressing to be missing John so much while trying to laugh at the jokes of his inadequate substitute. When Lewis asked him out to dinner after the game, he begged off and ran home to nurse his paining heart instead.

Dylan almost blew off work that night, feeling sorry enough for himself that tequila-ing his brain into oblivion seemed like the most desirable plan. In the end, however, he decided that burying his head in coding would do a better job of drumming the loneliness out of his system than booze. He knew if he got drunk he'd just crawl into his naval and turn into a miserable, self-absorbed mess.

So it was with a certain amount of pride that he dumped his bookbag on his desk and headed over to The Terminal's room for his routine check in. But as he walked to the door, the sound of laughter inside brought him up short. Stopping to listen, he heard a lady's voice say, “You still haven't told us what you're doing here, Minty.”

An older woman replied, “It's my jurisdiction, after all.” There was a brief pause and then, “Well, alright. He's been an asset for a long time and we don't want to lose him now. Everyone's dying of curiosity, Abe's too recognizable, so here I be.”

There was further chuckling and then, “What do you think we should do?” Surprisingly, the voice sounded like Sid, the man from India who had visited John the time they'd made love at his house. Realizing the people inside were John's friends, Dylan began to feel a little breathless.

“I don't know,” said the younger woman. “I just feel terrible for him, and I'm curious too, I'll admit.”

“What could have happened?” asked the older lady. “Is Rafe behind this?”

“No, he's worried as well,” the younger woman replied. “They were so unsuited. I believe he made his peace with that long ago.”

“Passion versus intellect,” mused Sid, “ever at war.”

“Opposites can attract,” noted Older Lady. “They're happier apart.”

“It's true,” agreed the lovely younger voice. “But I've never seen The Beloved so despondent and I cannot bear it. We must do something.”

“What can we do?” asked Sid.

“We snoop,” the older woman decided firmly. “I believe this is where they met, so....”

Unable to bear the mysterious conversation any longer, Dylan burst into the room, stunned to find only one person there. Quickly scanning the beds, he decided the handsome, sixtysomething African American doctor could not have been conversing with any of The Terminals.

“My word!” she gasped, hand over her heart. “You surprised me. Are you family?”

Feeling very confused and weirded out by the deja vu conversation, he replied, “No. I work here.”

Her gaze became intense. “You do? What's your name, child?”

“Dylan, ma'am,” he replied, unsure why the honorific popped out. Dying of curiosity himself, he had to know. “Are you John's replacement?”

Her eyes widened but she didn't respond right away. Dylan could barely contain his excitement, for he felt with all his heart that this woman knew something and wanted to help him. Finally, she smiled. “Why, yes I am. For the time being anyway.”

Dylan felt almost giddy, the relief was so great. “Where is he?” he asked. “Is he all right?”

Her expression was kind. “You've very worried about him, aren't you?”

“Well, yeah,” Dylan informed her passionately. “That Rafe guy said he was in trouble.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You've met Raphael?!?”

Dylan nodded impatiently, not wanting to lose the thread of the conversation. “What's the big deal? Why should it matter who a doctor dates around here?”

“Because, young man....” She paused, eying him critically.

Dylan froze, holding his breath, praying to all the saints in heaven she'd finish her sentence.

Finally, she got all twinkly like his grandma used to when she'd sneak him a few cookies behind mom's back. “You see,” she continued warmly, “John is not a doctor.”

to be continued

Me and OT3 ^_~

2009-09-08T14:03:19Z

Another great pic from alexeydubinin. Basically this is just an egg post, but I finally found an ending to the current Knockin' chappie, so definitely later tonight or tomorrow!

What'cha listening to, flist?

2009-09-03T13:43:49Z

I've ranted before about living in the middle of nowhere, such that all I can find on the radio is C&W, classic rock, metal, classical and Christian. Now, all of that is fine but....

What's on high rotation on your personal listening device(s)? Give me the songs and/or artists you can't get enough of at the moment. Danke!

In other news, more Knockin' early next week, me hopes.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 13 -- original fiction

2009-08-23T23:41:35Z

Boy, was this chapter a bear to write and it's probably nothing to get excited about, but transitional chapter is transitional. Totally worksafe, 1439 words. There is a song that goes with this part, if you're interested in such things. You'll find it here.

Title: Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 13
Theme: Emo techie meets MD, but not all is as it seems.
Rating: M, slash/yaoi

(Previous chapters)

Knockin' on Heaven's Door, 13
by Laura Bryannan

It was nothing like when Jessica left. Even though it had stung his ego to be rejected for another man, it was nice having his apartment all to himself again and even better being able to come and go as he pleased without answering to another person. He had missed her a little, but not enough to hurt, and he recovered from the break-up quickly. John, however, he missed something awful. And while he felt with certainty that his lover had not abandoned him, the hole his absence left in his heart ached worse than anything he'd felt since his mother died.

He didn't know what to do with himself or how to assuage the pain. It was strange to feel so little and scared, like he had after the freak car accident turned him into an orphan. His life had gone from typically carefree to something more Dickens-like in just over a year, and John's leaving felt the same, as though he'd taken the light away when the limo spirited him off that horrible afternoon. Dylan hated being cast back into his childhood memories, but there was no escaping them.

His mother had been a busy woman, working every day as a waitress at a popular diner, and Dylan remembered their little apartment fondly, only a block away from his grandparent's house. Yet, for all her hard work, mom always had time for him in the evenings. Just sixteen when he was born, she was more of a big sister or pal than the moms the other kids had. She was pretty and fun, better at playing dinosaur or superhero than any of his friends. While Dylan had spent many happy hours at grandma and grandpa's while his mom worked, his most treasured memories were always of the times when it was just the two of them, snuggled on the couch watching a movie or playing a video game together.

The ominous bells didn't begin to toll until his seventh year, when his grandpa died suddenly in his sleep. He was strong like a bull and had not been sick so it was a shock to everyone, and Dylan remembered feeling helpless in the face of his mother and grandmother's grief. It made him angry that grandpa had left everyone so sad and there didn't seem to be anything he could do to make things better. Focused on helping his mom, he pushed his own sense of loss aside, and all the happy times he spent with his grandfather became something too painful to reminisce about.

The year before he was orphaned was dark and miserable, for his mother struggled, attending to his basic needs but withdrawing emotionally. She still wore a smile, but Dylan could tell it was just a mask. The only good thing about it all, he decided, was that he'd had to get used to missing his mom long before she was taken away from him forever. His grandmother was never the same either, which is why Dylan was not allowed to stay with her when his mother died even though that had been both their wishes. The social workers brought hopelessness in their wake, deciding what was Best For All Concerned even though it had nothing to do with what he wanted or needed.

The current situation was a chilling reminder of that horrible time, and the experience felt all the more infuriating because he had nowhere to direct his emotions. If he felt angry, it wasn't at John, but at the unknown strangers who had taken him away—their creepy dark suits reminiscent of the Men in Black, or the Jehovah's Witnesses who plagued the neighborhood way too often.

He could not understand what kind of trouble John was in. Why was it such a big deal they were together? Doctors screwed the nurses and staff all the time and, while it was frowned upon, it was rarely grounds for dismissal. And why couldn't he find John in any of the personnel databases? It was another mystery making the situation all the more frustrating.

Work sank into the dead routine it had always been before he met John. Even The Terminals brought little comfort, seeming cold and distant when he visited with them. He remembered how freaked he'd been the first few times he'd found John in their room and tried to find his way back into the insulated space he'd been in then, but it was impossible. Every time he entered, the room seemed empty, smirking at his secret hope to find the vertical person he knew would not be there.

After a week, it was too much. Feeling bored and lonely, he did something he hadn't been moved to do in over two years—call his Big Brother, Lewis. Thankfully, Lewis seemed happy to hear from him. “Dylan! Holy shit! It's been way too long. How the hell are ya?”

Just hearing his voice made Dylan feel better. “I'm hanging, I guess,” he replied. “What's new?”

“Well...me and Annie, we're separated,” he was told.

Dylan's heart leapt. “No shit!” And then, catching himself, he added, “Wow, I'm sorry, man. What happened?”

“Once Corey hit kindergarten, she got busy,” Lewis said. “Went back to school herself. I got tired of feeling like we were roommates and all her important friends were somewhere else.”

“Are you getting divorced?” Dylan asked, guilty for feeling so hopeful.

Lewis sighed. “I don't know. I want to be with her, but I don't think she feels the same. I walked out hoping she might miss me enough to come around, but it hasn't happened yet.” Dylan could almost hear the shrug. “Hey, it's weird you called today,” Lewis continued. “My boss gave me two tickets to the Cubbies game tomorrow afternoon. I was gonna try and lure Annie, but...shit. How about a game in the shade for once instead of frying with the Bleacher Bums?”

The proposal made Dylan happier than he'd felt in way too long. “Sure!” he enthused. “That'd be great!”

They made plans to meet at Halsted & Waveland tomorrow at noon and it felt like old times, as exciting as always to be contemplating a get-together with Lewis. The old crush was still present, it seemed, fueled by a childishly smug glee that his rival had proved Unworthy. While he knew Lewis would never love him carnally, he didn't care. That he might have his oldest and dearest friend all to himself again was thrilling news that couldn't have come at a better time, and he couldn't wait 'til tomorrow.

Work didn't seem so awful when there was something to look forward to. It was interesting to compare the way he anticipated seeing Lewis tomorrow versus how he anticipated seeing John. Thinking about spending time with his lover always made his cock hard, his knees weak and brought a feverish flush to his skin, which was very exciting, but his feelings for Lewis ran deeper than that. Their friendship had been part of his very foundation, a lighthouse shining in the darkest part of his childhood, and the cherished memories buoyed him that night as he worked.

Sleep brought Dylan another one of those strange lucid dreams. Only this time, when he flew toward the bright sun out in space he found his grandpa there in the light. Even though Dylan was his lanky adult self, his grandfather was as big as he remembered and he happily crawled into his lap as he was hugged by those strong arms once again.

It was weird, though. Grandpa didn't smell like Captain Black's Cherry Pipe Tobacco, but of maple syrup, and Dylan's dream self wondered enough to ask, “Is it you grampa?”

Dylan felt a gentle chuckle as he was snuggled closer. “I've missed you,” said a warm voice.

“I've missed you too,” Dylan replied, reveling in the sense of belonging he felt in the loving embrace. “You smell like pancakes, grampa. Did you quit smoking?”

There was another chuckle. “It must be the fenugreek in my tea,” came the reply.

Dylan's dream self wondered at that—grandpa never drank tea—but when he felt a familiar kiss brush his forehead he knew.

“John?!?” he gasped, startling enough that he woke to find a pillow in his arms. Sighing in defeat, he sat up, suddenly realizing that John's scent was all around him, on his hands, his T-shirt. Amazed, heart soaring, he sprinted to the computer to Google the word, fenugreek.

to be continued

Meet "the Woman on p. 194"

2009-08-22T04:46:52Z

I've never been one to sing the praises of women's magazines, but Glamour published something hopeful this month. What'cha think, flist?

From the Editor-in-Chief's blog:

It's a photo that measures all of three by three inches in our September issue, but the letters about it started to flood my inbox literally the day Glamour hit newsstands. (As editor-in-chief, I pay attention to this stuff!) "I am gasping with delight...I love the woman on p 194!" said one...then another, and another, andanotherandanotherandanother. So...who is she? And what on earth is so special about her?

Here's the deal: The picture wasn't of a celebrity. It wasn't of a supermodel. It was of a woman sitting in her underwear with a smile on her face and a belly that looks...wait for it...normal.

See source for more

It was only a matter of time

2009-08-20T19:11:13Z

Edward!peen for your very own!

The Vamp
Link NSFW

The Vamp retains hot and cold temperature. Toss it in the fridge for that authentic experience.

But don't save this for just nocturnal escapades, try taking our Vamp out in the sunlight and watch him sparkle.

Looking for John

2009-08-17T20:29:12Z

I've been trying to imagine my John, and have been having fun trying to create his face via morphing. This is getting close, but still no cigar--too feminine. Any guesses who I used here?

The website is fun. Go play!

Go 'way, I'm sleepin' here!

2009-08-14T14:49:57Z

My flist pal alexeydubinin posted this and it was too effing cute not to share.

In other news, the next chapter of Knockin' is slowly turning into something workable. Maybe next week if Lmuse can stay focused. Happy Friday!

Perseids!

2009-08-14T00:43:48Z

Anyone see the meteor shower last night? For the first time in ages, it was clear and I saw a bunch--a few really spectacular ones. It was so exciting! </geek>

le Jazz Hot

2009-08-06T19:59:17Z

If you're following So You Think You Can Dance, you know that tonight we find out this season's winner. While we wait, here's one of my fav pieces from the Canadian show, featuring the winner, Nico and Lisa. We don't see spicy choreography like this in the states. Enjoy while you can. My original source of this video was pulled overnight.

And, FWIW, my fav Aussie performance is here, featuring Talia, the winner and the runner-up, Charlie. Beautiful piece! She also danced amazing lyrical jazz and hip hop.