chibi_squirt

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-25T11:43:00

2007-12-25T16:44:14Z

Dear Brendan:

You win at Christmas. Oh my God his wee little head!

To the rest of the world: I will explain, but I believe my sister wants Lauren to see in person first, so it may be a week.

Wee little head!

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-24T07:20:00

2007-12-24T12:22:39Z

Quote of the day once again goes to Jacque, who is rackin' em up lately.

Jacque: *setting up Nativity scene and talking to the cat* Loki, I remember you stampeding through downtown Bethlehem last year, when you were little. It was cute then, but no.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-22T14:10:00

2007-12-22T19:25:29Z

A while ago, I posted a ficfest based squarely in the concept of "kitty". Here's a collection of the resultant fics:

The Pie Hole denizens + kitty

Emerson Cod swirled into the Pie Hole in a gust of sartorial brazenness that went completely unnoticed, despite the accompanying chime of the bell over the door; only Digby looked up at his entrance. Emerson adjusted the hand-knitted scarf wound carefully around his neck and sidled up to the counter.

"Hey, Emerson," Chuck chirruped, carefully setting out two freshly sliced pieces of pie before a nauseatingly love-dovey couple occupying the same stool. Emerson Cod gave the couple a disdainful look.

"I would break them up, but there's only one open stool here," he said, sitting down. "Is your boy baker around?"

Chuck's face closed up. "I don't know," she disclaimed. "Why don't you check for yourself?"

Emerson Cod raised an eyebrow.

"Oh hi, Emerson!" Olive called, coming out of the kitchen. "Would you like an espresso?"

She toddled over on her high heels and caressed the levers of the gleaming machine.

"I drink coffee," Emerson informed her suspiciously. "Black."

"Well, I know you do," she said, "But I just thought you might want to try something different. You know, sometimes people do that, try something different. Sometimes you wake up in the morning and you say, 'Wow, what I did yesterday and the day before that and the day before the day before that and every other day for the entire rest of my life is the old, and I want to try something new, so maybe I'll have a cup of espresso today because what I did every single solitary other day clearly isn't working." She smiled, and Emerson could hear the paranoid writer who was always in the back corner diving under the table for cover. "So, what'll it be? Espresso?"

Emerson Cod raised his other eyebrow. "Coffee," he said. "Black." Then he added to the figure roughly twice Olive's size--a figure that could only belong to the pie maker--emerging from the kitchen, "I have someone for the two of us to go have a slightly-impossible talk with."

"That sounds reasonable," Ned agreed, setting two steaming trays of cup pies on the counter. "In fact, it sounds exactly like something which is perfectly reasonable, and not at all like something which no person in their right mind would do, much less ask someone they theoretically care deeply about to do for them." He looked at Emerson. "When should we leave?"

"That depends." Emerson pushed his coffee away in disgust. "If by 'we' you mean 'you and I', I think we should leave as soon as your rush moves off. If by 'we' you mean 'you and I and my big pot full of issues', I think that you and I should leave as soon as the rush does, but your big pot full of issues should stay the hell here."

"What does that mean?" Ned asked.

"Does that mean you think Ned has issues?" accused Olive.

"Does that mean you think you don't have issues?" asked Chuck.

"Because you definitely have issues," finished Ned.

"There's nothing wrong with having issues!" Emerson said. "What's wrong, is all this talking about them! It's not..." His eyebrows drew down as he searched for a word, before finally deciding on, "...manly."

Emerson Cod tried not to notice the tickling sensation on his neck, or the boggling expression creeping onto his interlocutors' faces.

"Manly," repeated Chuck doubtfully.

"I really don't think you get to say anything about manly," Olive smirked, eyes glinting. "Ever again."

"Oh, what the hell are they on about?" demanded Emerson, now desperate to ignore soft brushing against his left ear.

Ned's face said it all, but to clarify, his mouth added, "You have a kitten down your shirt."

The kitten started cleaning the ear. "I do not."

Chuck joined Olive in the smirking. "Oh, yes, you do!"

Emerson gave his best, "Do not fuck with the private investigator who, by the way, could probably bench press you," look. "I am not the sort of person who could have a cuddly, adorable kitten down my shirt. I am certainly not the sort of person who would then double up a hand-knitted scarf around the alleged kitten to keep its nose from getting cold. Therefore, there is some other explanation for you seeing an adorable, cuddly kitten down my shirt. Like a gas leak."

"Right." Ned smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "A gas leak. No kitten." He nodded at the crowds. "This rush should be over in about an hour; until then, your usual table just cleared up."

"Thank you." Emerson nodded, trying to convey that not only did he have all of his dignity intact, but that he was, deep down, grateful to the pie maker for helping to keep it that way. He spun his stool around so that he could rise and make his way to his usual table.

On the floor that had just been immediately behind the private investigator, Digby rose on his back legs, placing his front paws against Emerson's suit-covered shoulders. Slowly, Digby reached out and gently touched his nose to that of the kitten--the adorable, cuddly kitten who was definitely not snugly nestled within the folds Emerson Cod's hand-knitted, feline-nose-warming scarf.

Twenty minutes later, the utility company shut down the store to minimize the harm from the gas leak; Emerson's niece adopted the non-existent kitten.

House + kitty

"What is this?" House stood in the door of his office, looking at the package on his desk like it was a cow turd.

The package was in the shape of a basket, top and bottom latched together. There was a large red ribbon tied all around it, culminating in a big, floppy bow on top. A carrying handle was on top.

Actually, given House's personality, it was even odds on him being happier about the manure.

"Which one of you morons got me a present?" House looked at Thirteen. "Oh, please say it wasn't you."

Silence reigned around the coffee table, before Kutner asked, "Well? Aren't you going to open it?"

"Oh, God," groaned House. "Would that make you happy? Would it fill you with Christmas cheer?"

Thirteen sipped her coffee. "I don't know about him, but it would satisfy my curiosity," she said.

House weighed it, then wandered into the office and unlatched the basket. Slowly, he lifted off the cover, stared inside for a minute, then looked into the conference room. "Taub," he said, "You're fired."

Taub looked stunned, then appalled. "Me? Why? What did I do?"

"What did you do? You got me a kitten!"

House lifted the furry bundle from the carrier in one hand; the creature fitted comfortably on his admittedly large palm. Thirteen tried in vain to close her dropped jaw; out in the hallway, one of the nurses did a double-take before starting to laugh.

Taub just spluttered. "I didn't do it!"

"Well, it wasn't Thirteen, because she'd be smirking instead of gaping like a fish; and it wasn't Kutner, because he's never here early enough to have sneaked this onto my desk. Therefore..."

"But, I wasn't the first one here!"

"It's true," Thirteen confirmed, while Kutner nodded. "Taub came in late today, something about car trouble, I think it was."

House frowned. "Well if you didn't do it, and neither of you could have done it..." A suspicion grew plainly in his eyes. "Oh, no."

At the end of the table, Foreman put down his magazine, smiling smugly. "Merry Christmas," he said.

In House's hand, the kitten mewled pitiously. House looked at it, the cursed, rolled it gently into the other palm, and picked up his cane. "Come on," he said. "If any of you have cases, you can present them to me in the cafeteria; I have to get Homer here some corned beef."

Wilson and Cameron + kittens + lyrics from an angsty-type song. This is cheese.

"Allison, what are you doing?"

Cameron sniffled. "Someone's got to do it," she said. "It's only for a few days, but they'd starve if no one did it."

"They'd probably do their business on the rug, too, but they wouldn't die." Wilson leaned in the door frame of the anonymous apartment, coffee in his free hand, watching the young doctor feeding the many assembled cats. They yowled, demanding the food that had been unforthcoming since their "mother" had died in surgery that afternoon.

Cameron sniffled again. "It's just--damnit!" She swiped at her eyes. "Some of them still get me, after all this time. I'm not as bad as I was; I don't chase after all of them anymore; but Maureen, this afternoon, she didn't have anyone, and she had so much love to give, and she clearly just spent it all on her cats..." Cameron smiled wetly up at him. "She had cat fur all over her, you know."

"You will, too," Wilson pointed out, holding out his hand.

Cameron accepted his aid rising, but resisted his pull towards the door. "It's just... I want to save them all, and I can't."

Wilson sighed, looking at her, lost and upset, standing in a dead strangers apartment to feed the cats. "Come on," he said. "They'll be here to pack everything away soon, and the cats will go to animal services." He reached down and picked up the nearest, a scruffy-looking calico with pretty golden eyes. "Except this one; we'll find someone to take this girl in." He smiled, and wrapped her arms around the meowing feline. "You can't save all of them, but together... maybe we can save one."

The fabulous K-Legal has also provided a ficlet.

The challenge is still open, by the way! Request kitties, provide kitties, no one will complain!

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-15T12:31:00

2007-12-15T17:35:02Z

Jacque: I have been watching the TV, and it says that you have to give the ladies the lumps of compressed coal, or they will not love you. That is not true.

Jim: There's only one thing I have to give the ladies to make them love me.

Jacque: Please don't thrust that at me.

In other news, getting sick the *day* you're supposed to sing all two-and-a-half hours of Handel's Messiah? Is not cool.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-08T12:20:00

2007-12-08T17:23:00Z

Loki the Enthumbed, our super-adorable shorthair kitty, was cuddling me at the same time I was reading fic. So I thought, "I know! I'll do a pussy challenge!"

Name a character, or two or three, and I will write a snippet with said character(s) and a kitty. Or, you could write me a snippet with a kitty. It's basically a kittyfest, here. Fire away.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-12-03T10:07:00

2007-12-03T15:07:57Z

My local comic book store is having a sale; would anybody like me to send them DCAU tie-in comics for Christmas?

chibi_squirt @ 2007-11-30T08:59:00

2007-11-30T14:04:43Z

Oh dear lord! That's-- I-- He threatened a teenage boy with porn!

*spontaneously combusts*

I also watched the clip of "Not While I'm Around". I'm going to cry at this movie, aren't I?

Better with Gay? Better with Gay!

2007-11-18T00:04:59Z

There is a reason for this poll. Really! Go here!

View Poll: Better with Gay

I get a certain amusement from using this icon for this.

2007-11-16T12:13:12Z

For Brendan.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-11-14T13:41:00

2007-11-14T18:45:22Z

This is my week for finding weird porn, I guess.

First, I was poking around Teland and discovered... Diablo porn! Like, yes, the computer game Diablo. Yes, of course it was slash. And actually, I'm not sure it really counts as porn. I mean, it seems pretty explicit--I got called away just when I was getting to the actual sexings, and haven't gone back yet--but there's a lot more of it than just the sex, so... And! Her characterization? *Better than I found in the game*! How cool is that?

Second... Dr. Who coat!porn! No, really! Coat!porn. Which is *adorable*.

Huh.

The Lion Brand Yarn patterns are like baby's poo: only cute if it's your own, and barely even then.

2007-11-11T17:32:10Z

I think Speed Stix may have been created by Satan. No, seriously! I dare anyone out there to show me one truly beautiful item of clothing created on them. Go on then.

...

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Satan.

Eta: Two more things.

One, I have Teh Sick, which means that I must *stop* knitting Christmas presents, because contagion is the gift you should not give! Which in turn means the cat is getting another neckwarmer/playtoy from what I've already done. (Swatching! It not only makes your knitting look better, it keeps the cat from Helping!)

And two... In fuzzy, feathery yarn, no one can see you cable.... (Well, it amused me, anyway.)

Oh noes, not another one!

2007-10-30T22:02:48Z

I've been watching an awful lot of Pushing Daisies lately. I completely blame Brendan--curse you, Brendan!--for getting me into it; I told him I'd watch PD if he would watch Eureka, and as a result I have basically stopped my short-lived obsession with Eureka (although the denizens of Coeur d' Coeur running amok in Eureka and/or vice versa is a terrible, beautiful thought.) But I do recommend the show; it's funny, adorable, well-intentioned, adorable, quirky, adorable, hilarious, and, most importantly, adorable. It has Lee Pace, whom I now desperately need to see in everything he's ever done; Kristen Cheno-I-cannot-spell-this, who was well known as Glinda in Wicked; and the completely awesome Chi McBride, who was very good as Vogler and is now shining in a role which is actually likable.

And it's *adorable*. I cannot say this enough, because every time I watch it, it gets that much cuter. This is not a hyperbolic curve, here; it does not get a lot cuter, then a little bit less cuter but still cuter, then a little bit less cuter than that (but still cuter). It gets cuter *arithmetically*.

Anna Friel plays the flighty-but-otherwise-undomitable-and-yes-I-meant-to-say-that Chuck, childhood best friend of Ned. Ned makes pies. (So does Chuck! Hers tend to have cheese in them; I cannot object.) Ned also raises the dead. (Chuck does not raise the dead, partly because she never could raise the dead, and partly because, well, she *is* the dead.) Emerson Cod makes money off of this talent, which he then stores in hand-knitted money-cozies. (PS, Brendan? For you, with great thanks.) The hijinks get wackier from there, but it's the details that make the show.

Take, for example, Chuck's aunts. They could have just been the people who raised Chuck after Ned accidentally involuntarily manslaughtered her father, but there's more to them than that. They used to be famous synchronized swimmers, but stopped when Swoosie Kurtz (again, my name-spelling sucks) lost an eye. In a litterbox accident. So they became shut-ins. Who are also ornithologists. Who are also obsessed with cheese. And it keeps *going* like that!

So, being who and what I am, I of course spent most of my day trying to write porn for this series.

-----

Chuck: Yes, it bothers me! It bothers me that Olive doesn't like me because she thinks I stole her chance at you. And it bothers me that she only thinks that because I'm staying with you, because you're so lonely you've never set a precedent of having friends over before and that bothers me even more because you're so wonderful and you should have friends.

Ned: *touched, confused face*

Chuck: *continues* And it bothers me that she doesn't have friends other than you, it bothers me that Emerson doesn't have friends at all. It bothers me that I can't see the only two people I had left in the world, and it bothers me that that's in past tense.

Ned, doing the Eyebrow Thing: Technically, I think it may have been the pluperfect.

Me, glaring: That was supposed to be a declaration of love, and I'm pretty sure *both* of you missed it.

-----

Alfredo: *fixes the broken window where Pidge flew into it*

Olive: *doesn't notice*

-----

Olive and Ned are leaning on the counter in the locked up and empty Pie Hole.

Olive: Pie?

Ned: No thanks.

Olive: Are you sure? It's the special we made for that movie-release-party, should be extra tasty. *convincing grin*

Ned, trying to explain: No, thanks. I-- For all I enjoy making pie, it's really always been the satisfaction of making something delicious--and by delicious I mean the flavor equivalent of art or beauty--and doing it right, more than the... taste.

Olive, losing her smile: It's pie. It's supposed to be yummy.

Ned: I'm sure it is!

Olive: No. It isn't. It can't be. It can't be yummy if you don't taste it, just like a tree falling in the forest can't make a sound. You have to taste it, you have to hear it, and you have. To. Touch. It. *grabs Ned and pulls him over the counter, knocking over the four-level display rack, which luckily had only three pies on it: Classic Apple, Cherry with Dark Chocolate Crust, and a fluffy banana cream (because whenever pie hits the floor, there must always be banana cream)*

Both: *pause*

Narrator: It was at this very moment that the two of them realized that while the Pie Hole was indeed closed and empty, they were not quite as alone as they had thought.

Ned: I, uh...

Olive: *nods, quickly* Right, sure. Some other time. *looks around nervously, and smooths her skirt*

-----

Alfredo: *fixes the four-level display rack*

Narrator: Alas, while the homeopathic salesman's efforts to impress his love were both earnest and efficacious, the object of his affections failed to notice that those efforts were aimed at her.

-----

Narrator: Emerson Cod, on the other hand, could be nothing but relieved when the object of his failed to notice his efforts. For one thing, because societal dictates, childhood trauma, and his ostracism from the Tulsa, Oklahoma Police Force when he violated the tacitly-followed, overtly-enforced Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy had all led him to believe that any overt declaration of his feelings would immediately be answered by rage, invective, and possibly physical violence; for another thing, because a sweater for anyone the size of the pie-maker takes considerable time to knit, especially when one is constantly distracted by new, oil-resistant yarns for gun-cozies.

Emerson: *sits in his office, knitting a sweater the old-furniture-brown of Ned's hair, the warmed cream tone of a perfect pie-crust, and the rich golden shade of returning life*

Narrator: Further, while one sweater alone would take a long time, Emerson was making two, simultaneous, conjoined sweaters, in inner one a soft lining of pure, plush, crimson cashmere. If asked, he would say he chose the comfortable red yarn because it was on deep discount, or possibly because it was comfortable to knit with. But in truth, Emerson Cod had chosen this particular yarn for the portion the sweater which would secretly touch Ned's skin because it was the color of love.

Chuck: Emerson, there's a dead body on the TV! In an ambulance! Let's go!

Ned, following after: I tried to stop her...

Emerson, hurriedly putting away his yarn: Why? Were you trying to spend time on your actual business instead of her whims? Shame on you.

Chuck, looking at the bright spill of threads on Emerson's lap: Emerson, what is this? What are you making?

Emerson: It's not for you. *wraps up yarns faster*

Chuck: Is it for Ned?

Emerson: *doesn't answer*

Ned: It's for me?

Emerson: Boy, you think with all the stress this walking-when-it-should-be-staying-put disaster brings on us, I haven't knitted all the sweaters, afghans, smoking gloves, gun cozies, tissue cozies, money cozies, and stuffed penguins I can use? I gotta knit for somebody else.

Chuck: Stuffed penguins?

Ned: I don't think you can ever have enough money cozies.

Chuck: Ned! This is good! Pooh Bear is learning important lessons about sharing with his friends. *beams at the world*

Emerson: I'm not learning important lessons, I'm bored.

Ned: "Pooh Bear"?

Emerson: Didn't we have an ambulance to be chasing?

Narrator: And with that, the three set out to find the metaphorical vodka, which happened to be in a not-so-metaphorical freezer.

Me: You know, Jim Dale, I didn't like you back when you were reading Harry Potter.

-----

And after that it pretty much petered off. Damn it.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-10-20T02:09:00

2007-10-20T06:10:43Z

Oh Em Eff Gee. It wasn't just me? Holy crap! It wasn't just me!

So much for complaints of a lack of positive gay role model in there.

*stunned blinky-eyes*

chibi_squirt @ 2007-10-19T07:53:00

2007-10-19T11:55:06Z

Damn it, Brendan!

I am stuck between, "N'aaawwwww, he fixed her espresso machine!" and "I want her clothes!" and I can't decide which to go with!

Also, that is going to be some *hella* kinky sex.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-10-10T09:57:00

2007-10-10T14:19:25Z

There was a new episode of House last night.

First and foremost, who the hell is Walter?

Secondly, an address, to those who have not heard: House is Officially Gay for Wilson. No, really! He said so! ~~And then I squealed.~~ Those who read fanfiction in fandoms not their own, beware: the House fandom is probably going to go just a little bit crazy over that one.

Thirdly: I'm pretty sure I have it down to four possibilities for New Houseketteers. It would be awesome if we could keep all of them, but that's probably not going to happen.

First, there's the Cameron-clone. She's in because House is confused/intrigued/going to prove his heterosexuality by her, because she reminds him of Cameron, and because if he didn't fire her after that massive fuckup, he's not going to. Which means another season of incompetent woman doctor. Ugh.

You know, a lot of people didn't like Cameron all that much the *first* time around.

Second, there's Ridiculously Old Fraud. He's in because House likes him. And because he's interesting. And because House likes him. If we do get all four of these, he may be assigned as House's "secretary". Which won't hold him back in the slightest, since House didn't hesitate to send a *janitor* in to deal with a patient, much less a trained non-professional.

Those two I'm sure are in; the other two, not so much. Mormon guy is interesting, quiet, and clever; he has patience, competence, and the minority figures strongly on his side; and they've been making an effort to make sure he's a Character. But, if we can only have three, I terrified he might lose out to...

Barracuda woman. They've been spending way too much time making her interesting, and it strikes fear into my heart. I don't like her because she's, well... a barracuda, but that's not why I wouldn't give her the job if I were House. House doesn't even like House when he's House, much less when he's a snippy blonde. People come into this job to learn to be more like him; she already is like him, so why does she even want the job? (Also, she doesn't seem to have grasped the whole "team" part of being on his team. You know all those moments of tension when Foreman or occasionally Chase said, "Well, fuck this, then, I'm looking out for me"? Yeah, that'll be *every episode*. Ugh, no thanks.)

So, that's my take on it. The twin blondes and the Vet are out, the plastic surgeon is gone. Exotic guy whom I don't remember actually seeing last week is gone.

And I have another *two weeks* before I find out if I was right! Damnitall.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-10-09T10:51:00

2007-10-09T14:53:02Z

I am filled with glee! There is a new movie trailer out, and it includes *no spoilers*! It does, however, include Alan Rickman and Johnny Depp. Singing. (Well, Johnny is, anyway; we didn't actually get to see anyone else doing it.)

The thing about this movie is that it's based on another, incredibly gruesome work. (No, seriously, go watch that trailer right the hell now!) And anyone who goes in and sees it *not knowing* what's going to be coming at them... well, that person is pretty much guarenteed to be shocked and horrified.

Now consider the casting. Alan Rickman; Johnny Depp. Both very talented actors, but most recently best known for, respectively, Harry Potter and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Which means that there are going to be a lot of truly horrified thirteen-year-old fangirls wailing into livejournal when this thing comes out.

I can't *wait*!

chibi_squirt @ 2007-09-28T18:41:00

2007-09-28T22:42:02Z

I have figured it out!

The reason John Williams is *so* incredibly awesome is that while he is a classical composer, you can still, almost always, headbang to his work.

101 ways I am lame.

2007-09-20T12:00:39Z

I have a very old car, a '91 Honda accord, and as a result, no CD player. Which was fine, until the antenna broke, but now there's never anything to listen to in the car, and, well, I get bored.

So I stopped at Goodwill yesterday to see if they had any good CDs, and realized they have cassettes, as well. "Ah-HAH!" I thought, "I can listen to music again!"

I bought, and have been merrily bopping around the countryside listening to:

Best of John Williams
Hercules (soundtrack)
A Sega Genesis cartridge which does not, in fact, hold the Lion King soundtrack (Bummer!)
American Graffiti, the soundtrack
George Michaels Faith

But wait! you exclaim. You're the most culturally-impaired person on the planet, how do *you* know about George Michaels?

And I answer you: Like this.

I am lame.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-09-18T20:17:00

2007-09-19T00:18:30Z

Are you fucking kidding me?

Of all the race issues tied into this, oddly the one it makes me think about hardest is privelege. Because, I immediately try to understand what the hell those guys were thinking, and the closest I can really come to relating is "I just want what's mine to stay mine" mentality. But a) you shouldn't have things like all-white benches anymore and b) that behavior was *never* justified method for reclaiming something, even if it was yours.

But, y'know, I almost didn't post about this because after all it doesn't affect me, right?

Yeah, that thought pattern is something else that counts as "privelege". It shouldn't really *be* "mine".

chibi_squirt @ 2007-09-11T19:03:00

2007-09-11T23:05:29Z

*clings, mewling, to the internets*

Oh, Internets. Never leave me again.

(For those who don't know, our sketchy-for-some-time-now internets finally completely crapped out a couple weeks ago, and I have been geekiness deprived now for some time. But now, I can read fanfic again! Oh, happy day.)

Comics reviews!

2007-08-23T19:44:55Z

Birds of Prey: I am too busy being happy that my shop is finally getting in BoP for me to properly review this one. I am *also* too happy that Barda is gratuitously wandering around in her underwear. Why? Because it's *Barda*, and gratuitous underwear-wandering isn't sexy. It's just what she happens to be wearing at the time, and she *completely fails to notice* that it's her soul source of coverage. The *entire time*, she just happens to be wearing that. If she were wearing her armor, she'd just happen to be wearing that. It's just what's comfortable at the time.

God, I LOVE Barda!

Outsiders/Five of a kind:

Batman: Rex, you're good enough. As for you... *turns to the other person in the title of the comic* ...Are you Aquaman?

Aqua-whatever: You say that I am.

Batman: Not good enough.

Rex: ...You know you're being kind of a dick, right?

Fans: THANK YOU!

Green Arrow year one:

I'm not entirely sure why I'm still buying this. It is MADE of suck. It's just that two of my top three are in the arrow-clan, and another two of my top twenty... But there are NO moments like you get in Blue Beetle or Teen Titans or hell, even Robin, where you can flail and splutter with glee. There are, instead, many many moments when I flailed and spluttered with outrage. Take the following:

*Ollie gets hooked on opium. (SLKKGJ:LKJ SPEEDY!)
*Bad Lady's white catsuit makes her look naked, now with extra crotch-shadow! (SLBITHTCKT SEXISM!)
*Ollie sets fire to his boat. (SGKLJ:LKH STUPIDITY!)

And the list goes on. Overall? Made of suck.

And now...

Blue Beetle!

Now, given the cover, I should warn you I was cooing *before* I opened this book. Because it has Titans. But I was Not Disappointed by the inside! *is now smiling helplessly*

First page: guy in red jacked bumps Jaime. Me: Oooh! Is it is it is it?

Next page...

Red: Sorry about that.
Jaime: No prob, I was distracted. Jaime Reyes.
Red: ...huh.
Red: I'm Tim.

*INSERT WILD FANGIRLY SQUEALING HERE*

And since I run WILD RISK of re-typing the entire issue here, skipping to where Brenda gets fet up with Paco being all googly-eyed over the hotness of Megan, Cassie, and Kara.

Brenda: Oh, for--They're just out-of-state students! *muttered* From the state of ridiculously tall and gorgeous amazons with perfect skin. Alba-chusetts. West Jessicabiel-burg. Stupid Alba-chusetts.

HEEEE!

And oh, I was *so* disappointed when they had to have the thing where they fight before becoming friends, but it was WORTH IT for the banter. Which is FEMINIST banter!

And then Lobo shows up.

Robin: Not to panic anybody, but-- No. Panic is actually the appropriate response here. We need to get this rocket into the air. NOW!

Brenda: Um... You guys know how to launch a rocket?

Kid Devil: *shrugs*

Robin: ORACLE! ...I need to Hijack the control systems of the Lone Star Launch facility.

Oracle: Five me five minutes.

Robin: And launch the rocket.

Oracle: ...Seven minutes.

And this is another of those "don't want to type it all" moments, because it keeps being awesome.

As to how they cleared out the control room...

Eddie: FLEE! FLEE FROM THIS PLACE OF GODLESS SCIENCE! ... You brought this one yourselves! By teaching EVOLUTION!

Me: *dies of love*

And then plot-y-type-stuff, before...

Miss Martian: Yay for the NEWTEE!

Robin: "Newbie." ...Batman said there was anti-Reach technology in that rocket. For what it's worth, he believes you about them.

Jaime: Why didn't he tell me?

Robin: He's not... good at sharing.

Me: *dies* *and again*

And then the invitation to hang out with the titans which fills me with squee, before Paco tells Jaime that if he does not take this invitation, he, Paco, will steal the armor and go himself. Seriously.

...You know what this means, right? Blue Beetle / Robin slash cannot be far behind! We already know Batman approves of Jaime, after all! *loves on them*

chibi_squirt @ 2007-08-15T07:42:00

2007-08-15T12:06:01Z

I think that Cassandra Sandsmark must buy the really expensive bras, because otherwise, how would her breasts be so perky?

Kory's suit is actually a great deal stiffer than it looks, like, some organic organism bonding with her or something, and does really support her.

Wonder Woman has the strapless underwires of DOOM.

Spoiler just used a plain old sports bra.

The first Batgirl used lace. Pink lace, and then rolled her eyes at herself for doing it. Now, she alternates between that and sports bras, whichever she happens to feel like.

The second Batgirl doesn't bother. Oracle is obscurely bothered by this, but could never figure out how to say something about it.

Black Canary's leotard is surprisingly supportive.

And Power Girl? Doesn't wear a bra. She levitates them.

chibi_squirt @ 2007-08-13T21:50:00

2007-08-14T01:53:12Z

Quote of the day goes to Jim:

"The fact that Mary had God-sex and then went back to Joseph and they had lots and lots of kids after Jesus was born? Means that Joseph was *really* well hung."

chibi_squirt @ 2007-08-12T00:11:00

2007-08-12T04:39:21Z

I have been on a musicals kick lately--and by lately, I mean the last six months or so. This has resulted in me listening to a lot of pirated musicals music, and that, in turn, has resulted in me wanting to write a number of stories which I simply have not the talent to pull off.

Most notably, listening to the bestest track of Elton John's Aida, namely "My Strongest Suit," always makes me want to write a long Brucie one-shot called "Those Few who are Invited". This I will never do.

I also will never write a story about that period of time when Tim was retired from being Robin titled, "There are Giants in the Sky", nor an early Tim piece entitled "Chimerical".

(Incidentally, I may write a Steph story called "Just Keep Swimming".)

I will not write a story about Dick Grayson called "Let Me Fall," nor will he ever be "Defying Gravity" (despite the fact that this makes me giggle).

I will, however, always appreciate that "Seventy-Six Trombones played Gloria Gaynor".

chibi_squirt @ 2007-08-08T17:32:00

2007-08-08T21:43:55Z

Robin drabble:

Although he would not, of course, say it, Tim frequently seems to Bruce to bear very little resemblance to the role he has taken on. In a life so often dominated by death, Robin is supposed to remain vivacious; in the monochromatic moonlight, the bright colors of his uniform mean hope and passion.

Yet Tim, in his self-containment, rarely displays these necessary attributes--his only failing in a role at which he is otherwise extraordinary.

Occasionally, however...

"Her name is the Redbird," Bruce says quietly, and watches an uninhibited grin stretch across Tim's features.

Occasionally, Tim's performance is... perfectly adequate.