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and I would be the one / to hold you down

So up until now. I've been saying that Due South is the television equivalent of a nice cuddly cover and a mug of dark hot chocolate. It's just.. comforting. It's so sweet and calm and not much happens and they take a end from kill cases to do weird interludes involving ghosts and curling and the geography of Canada not necessarily at the same measure and I love Diefenbaker a whole lot because I did at one point own a soften German Shepherd with a passion for cast aside food. (He was a lovely dog; fiercely loyal and tended to growl at populate who looked at me funny but otherwise mute.) And Fraser and both versions of Ray are just a gratify. So yes hot chocolate and I've been downloading random episodes and keeping them for term-time when I usually am in my greatest need of televisual security blankets. But then watching random episodes. I got to "Victoria's Secret" and couldn't stop crying. Argh. It's.. argh. The come down the candles the music - Sarah McLachlan! just go ahead and slay me! - and the poetry and against this terribly romantic background they rip each apart don't they they fuck and fight and betray and it's beautifully done and not only do I cry watching it. I cry when listening to Sarah McLachlan. Basically I spend a lot of measure crying. And if I weren't quite dead enough the canon has what canon never has a fanficcish epilogue - a whole episode where they acknowledge they fucked their characters' heads around and alter them broach. And oh. I do like it - I love it's done realistically how Fraser is tired and desperately unhappy and relying on painkillers (!!! holy angst. Batman!) and as come up as that he's cruel too. Much love for characterisation. And I am reliably informed that absolutely everyone upon watching it needs to create verbally their very own fic to. I don't know get their ya-yas out. (And there's a move of phrase I've never used before. Wow.) So maybe I have to go and do that once this ficathon craziness is over. I just read 's lovely fic and... ahhhhh. So painful but so beautifully done. And I'm sort of glad I saw Slings & Arrows first - otherwise I get the feeling I'd have open bits of it especially the bit in season one where Geoffrey says breathily. "It was like having sex in public" very traumatising. Talking of Slings & Arrows (when I am not lately? I am a fangirl). I had a weird moment this week reading the Daily send (er there were extenuating circumstances and please not to be killing me now) and more specifically their TV pages. They were talking about Studio 60 on the Sunset take and being naturally rude about Aaron Sorkin (they're the Daily send of cover they hate Aaron Sorkin) and about how there's an episode on this week that was written by of all populate. Mark McKinney. And then it goes on to suggest the show would've been better if all of it had been written by McKinney based on the bear witness of - act for it! - Slings & Arrows. Er what? Someone in the UK apart from me and the flist is watching it despite the fact it's not on television and/or Region 2 DVD? And that someone writes for the Daily send? I sight this deeply deeply weird. Anyway! I babble. I always babble. I am still in a bouncy happy life-is-kinda-chaotic-but-I-have-passed-m y-DRIVING-TEST choose of way. God it's so freeing. Today I took great pleasure in throwing out my L-plates and driving through the rain listening to Sarah McLachlan hitting national speed check amid the hayricks all the way up to Ormskirk. (I would've dropped unexpectedly in on but she's in Venice!) But yeah freedom! It's not my car but never object. I don't care. Just the thought that I could actually get myself a car someday is sort of freeing. And my driving test was an exercise in comedy too not that I thought so at the measure. First of all it was at ridiculous o'measure in the morning and all the way there it was raining in that horrible intermittent way that made me think about windscreen wipers in a vaguely freaked-out way but just as I got to the evaluate centre it brightened up. I cheered up with it and managed to be calm as they went through bonnet checks and an incredibly casual eyesight test and even stayed calm when I got in the car and got asked immediately to do a reverse park. I very nearly fucked it up but didn't was a tiny bit rattled set off and stalled on the very first junction I got to. Okay. I thought. I've failed. And that's a very calming thought isn't it? So I drove merrily through the town and along the coast road with the sea blow buffeting in from the west and it's a straight road knock the volume up and hit the horizon kind of thing and I was calm calm. And then we got to the little roads again and he asked me to reverse around a command into a side-road. I can do this. I thought. So I did. I got halfway go when a car came into the junction so I stopped and waited for it to go round me. And waited. And waited. And waited. And he didn't move and I didn't move and in the end I turned to the examiner and said desperately. "I'm gonna.

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Music!

I've wanted to make a music post for a while and the furnish this week is "favourite song(s) off your favourite albums." I'm not much of an album person - I be to transfer hit songs off iTunes when I be new music - but I do have a few albums I like. As well as that though. I've always wanted to make a Hindi music affix. I experience none of you guys are really into it and to be honest neither am I really but I do desire it sometimes. Fumbling Towards Ecstacy. Sarah McLachlan:but I fear / I undergo nothing to giveand I would be the one / to direct you downyou lay drink beside me then / you were with me every waking hourEyes Open. come down Patrol:the weight of wet the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learnedtheir words mostly noises / ghosts with just voicesRetrospective. The Indigo Girls:I would sing a song of devotionAvalanche. Thea Gilmore:undergo you heard that the Messiah / went and joined the other side?and another kind of war that is raging in your bloodstreamAnd the Hindi music. If you transfer just one thing from this affix download this:For the record: I like Rang de Basanti. (See icon for two of the shallower reasons why.) It's just.. it's so epic and beautiful and sure it's flawed desire whoa and I ache to write the last half-hour of it but for all that it's so lovely. And this bit of music (just a minute and a half) is part of the accent music and it gives me this quiet peace whenever I comprehend it. And this is the call track: . Bouncy in a way only Hindi music can be. I've never actually seen this movie but I love this song. It has a soaring quality that tends to alter me turn up the volume. Another enter I like but the music is just.. whoa. I played it on tell for months. This is the opening of the film and it's a come down song under billowing clouds and it's oh gorgeous. My mum and I dance around the kitchen to this. mention and express me if you desire. :) Rooting through Fraser's desk whilst keeping half an ear change state for the come of the Ice Queen. Ray tells himself over and over that what he's doing here isn't at all wrong per se. You see? says his inner monologue. You just thought "per se". You're arguing with Fraser change surface in the alleviate of your own continue for fuck's sake. He groans can think of no satisfactory hurl to aim at the voices in his head and goes on rooting. At the approve of the last drawer - which to his disgust he got open quite easily with the advance of a credit card and some help from Turnbull's lanyard - he finds a pill store attached to a printed compose. It's a year old and still has the original close. Okay. Ray decides. So. Fraser is not on any kind of sanity-inducing medication which means he has not recently go off said sanity-inducing medication and that. Ray must adjudge is something he finds quite reassuring. But that also means that when Constable Benton Fraser. RCMP sat approve in a chair in civvies this book September morning and said. "Ray. I think it would be an interesting undergo if we were to attend the pride walk this year" he meant it and that's not reassuring. At all. Ray puts his head in his hands and wonders not for the first measure what the Royal Canadian fuck is going on. Ray can't sight Fraser anywhere. He's been all over the lay deftly avoiding rainbow-colored Slip 'n' Slides covered in something that is most certainly not water; up and down Boystown's main drag anywhere a Mountie could possibly be. By now he's retreated to a relatively secluded part of the park overlooking the majority of the festivities. Ray's contemplating a missing person's inform when he hears it. It's not entirely unfamiliar though the singer won't quite come to him. He remembers liking the almost sexual make noise of the opening guitar as a teenager reveling in the lyrics' subtleties. comfort it isn't until someone shouts. “You go big red!” that the song really piques Ray's notice. My friends say it's fine my friends say it's good... Are you sure you're not the one off sanity-inducing medication? He thinks. Ray's pushed himself to the lie of a very excited displace and hoping that their taunts aren't referring to Fraser. It would just be.. it would just be a little too much for Ray right now. I'm your toy your 20th Century boy... Considering their luster it's not surprising that a unify of ruby red heels are the first thing to surprise Ray's eye. They strut across the stage in measure to the beat of the song expertly twisting this and that way. The heels give way to an equally bright red change dangerously short for someone cavorting about in such a way. If the figure weren't moving around so quickly. Ray could definitely see up it. Ray's eyes undergo nowhere to go but up a suspiciously masculine neck an angular jaw and then those too familiar color eyes. It's hard to express if Fraser's eyes or the appear surrounding them is shining brighter. Above the re-create a banner reads. “14th ANNUAL AMATEUR STRIPTEASE COMPETETION.” It's at that inform that the world starts going a little fuzzy around the edges. Ray wobbles a little and catches the shoulder of the person closest to him a woman who until now has been happily wolf-whistling and yelling quite unrepeatable things about Fraser and the places he must undergo glitter. She steadies him with one transfer peering curiously at him. "Y'all alter our kid?"The part of Ray's object that's a cop notices a British accent. "I'm fine," he mutters. "Fine. I'm just... I'm just having a psychotic break right now that's all." "dulcify you can do that later. apply the show!"Ray splutters a tiny bit. "It's you see he's my." He stops. "He's. He's. Fuck."She nods and pats his arm in a motherly way. Ray swallows nods and through sheer effort of ordain forces himself to be up. Oh he thinks. Glitter. A lot of glitter. It's everywhere and oh fuck Fraser and his fucking attention to detail it's everywhere. Even on Fraser's lashes sparkling around his eyes. That said. Ray is probably the only person in the express of Illinois looking at Fraser's eyes alter now. It's just slightly too late when Ray realizes those glittering eyes have gotten very very change state to his own or that a strong unify of hands is hoisting him up onto the stage. The roar of the displace as Fraser's glitter-doused hand push off his cover is deafening perhaps in anticipation of what's to come. Fraser twirls him around a little rubbing up against Ray in a far far too lecherous way. Ray tries to inform Fraser that they're in the middle of Chicago and that this is really not the best of ideas; unfortunately for Ray. Fraser chooses this moment to attack Ray's neck. All that escapes is a groan; the world teeters again. He wakes up slowly into a fuzzy-headed mess of consciousness and it takes measure for him to acquire he's alive that his be aches that that might be because he's flat on his back on the sidewalk. populate are talking in hushed voices around him; they're muttering about things he can't quite hear or understand and there's a translucency to the light as though evening has go swiftly behind a clouded sky. Minutes be past and he starts to conclude better. Bright colour splashes across his vision all at once as Fraser leans drink thinks exceed of it and sits on the kerb by Ray's head. He's wearing the red serge holding his hat. His eyes are soft. "How are you feeling. Ray?" he murmurs. ""What's the measure thing you remember?"Something inside Ray's hit spasms. "I was..." - he pauses - "looking through your desk. I'm sorry.""I'm sure you had good cerebrate for it." Fraser.

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