I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go.

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obsessedmuch and spiffydaze have catered to my every iconic whim* in the last 48 hours (Muppets, Goonies, Jude!), but since I am ‘a bit slow’ I can’t figure out how to display them all. However, I want everybody to see them and revel, because I sure as hell am.

*(Not every whim, but a good amount of them. I still have no naked man on my doorstep, but I am sure they’re working on it, while I’m working on stuff for other people. Speaking of other people, I owe Meret and Nat some feel good fic. So..)


For spiffydaze I present Ryan Atwood and Seth Cohen go to the dentist, in:

The O.C.
The Tooth Fairy



“It’s just a suggestion, Ry, but most people actually get out of the car to go to the dentist. I don’t know if they did, like, drive-by visits in Chino or whatever, but in Newport, you actually have to go to the dentist to get your check up.”

“Cute. I’m not going.”

“Why not? Dr. Michaels is really cool, and he’s got these sugar-free lollipops that taste really good. If you get the grape one your whole mouth turns purple. It’s like you’ve got gangrene and your tongue is about to fall off -- it’s very cool.”

“I don’t need to go to the dentist, Seth, my teeth work just fine.”

“Yes, but when was the last time you went to the dentist? How do you know everything’s fine? You might have cavities. You might have plaque buildup. You never know about these things until you’ve got Nurse Lola scraping away at your gums with her Hook of Horror and scaring the crap out of you. C’mon, stop white-knuckling the seat, let’s go.”

“You are not doing anything to encourage me, you know.”

“Ryan, it’s just the dentist. It’s really not that bad -- you’re not afraid are you?”

“No.”

“Oh, dude. You are afraid. The great and mighty Ryan Atwood, vanquisher of water polo teams and stalkery Harbor-boys is indeed afraid of the dentist. Well, even Superman has Kryptonite.”

“Seth, shut up.”

“I will, I am, I just, dude, you’re afraid of something. This is like, like, wow. I’m having a moment; you’re going to have to wait a second.”

“Seth.”

“Was your last dentist like really cruel or something? Did he pull out your teeth without novocaine, because I saw Little Shop of Horrors on TBS last week, and that would be really wrong, and awful and yikes. Also, way with the painful.”

“Okay, I give up, will you shut up if I go to the dentist?”

“Once again, the power of the babble strikes again. See, the Boy Wonder vanquish his foes and Batman alike with his ability to talk too much. You should feel lucky that I only use my powers for good, like the Tooth Fairy. Um, not that I’m a fairy or anything, I mean apart from the whole me and you and, hey, yeah. So, to the dentist?”

“To the dentist.”


*


“I cannot believe I have a cavity. How can I have a cavity? I brush all the time. I floss like six times a day. I should not have a cavity. I go to the dentist on a regular basis, this is like against the handbook or whatever. How can I have a cavity that has to be filled while you, who haven’t been to the dentist since, like, the Stone Age, has no cavities? This is sick. This is wrong. Also, does the green lollipop taste like apple? I like apple. Is it sour apple? Can I have a lick of your sucker?”

*silence*

“I mean the one in your hand, you know, just in case that wasn’t clear. I did mean that one and it wasn’t like some double entendre or euphemism or whatever. I just want a sucker, damnit, and I don’t want to get my cavity filled. I brush, damnit. I hate the dentist. I don’t want oral surgery.”

“Seth, It’s just a filling. Everybody gets fillings.”

“Yes, he says it’s a filling, but what if it’s something worse? What if they have to take the tooth out? What if it’s a root canal? What if I have to go under anesthetic and I never come out? People die at the dentist office, I don’t want to be another statistic!”

“You’re hysterical. Do you want me to slap you?”

“Um, no, maybe later. Also, you won’t let him kill me, will you?”

*eye roll* “Is this your way of asking me to stay with you while the dentist does whatever he needs to do?”

“Yes.”

“You could’ve just asked.”

“I know, but that would’ve been too easy.”

*silence*

“Can I lick your sucker now?”

“Maybe after the dentist is done with you.”

*pause*

“Ryan, that was really dirty.”

“You started it – “oral” surgery?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know. So am I.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

*silence*

“Will you make it better though, Ry, if I’m, like, good or whatever?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think really hard.”

“I will.”

“I mean really hard.”

“Yes, Seth.”

“I’m mean like really really hard -- I’ve never had a blowjob from somebody with a green mouth before.”


-end-


And for meret and obsessedmuch:

I present Lex Luthor (pre-Smallville) and Warrior Angel and... Lindsey McDonald in:

Comic Book Villains


There’s something deliciously amusing about someone’s fake plastic hand trying to come between Lex and the last issue of Warrior Angel on the racks. And perhaps later on, much later on after he’s read the issue cover to cover several times and digested at least ten Oreos and two White Russians, he’ll see the humor. Right now, however, all Lex sees is someone about to lose their replacement hand.

“That belongs to me,” he says flatly, slamming his hand down on top of Issue 158 before it slides off the racks.

Lex's fingers splay out over Josef Kavalier’s vivid artwork protectively, brushing against molded plastic shaded only slightly lighter than his own skin tone. He is not letting this comic book go without a fight. This is the start of a six-issue run where Cal and Hector are transported back in time to the pre-Devilicus days, and there's all sorts of Cal and Sean madness.

People have been crashing the message boards for months talking about it. Lex pulled every string he knows and still couldn’t get an advanced copy.

“Funny how you seem to think my hand on it means it belongs to you.” The drawl makes Lex’s ears hurt, and the smile on his face is all predator as he cranes his head slightly to look down.

The smirk that answers his own does nothing to dissuade him from his goal. This is his comic book. He's willing to draw blood. “You don’t look like the Warrior Angel type,” he says, taking in the sharp suit and Paul Smith tie.

“And you don’t look like the Los Angeles type,” the man says, letting his eyes sweep from Lex’s ragged Princeton shirt to suit trousers appraisingly. “But you don’t see me passing judgment, now do you?”

The right corner of Lex’s mouth curls slightly. The man before him is a bit short, but he’s got balls, and then there’s his mouth. Lex wouldn’t mind seeing it wrapped around his cock. It never even occurs to him that Mr Southern Drawl might not swing his way. Everybody swings Lex’s way.

“How badly do you want it?” the man asks blithely, taping his hand against the book. “’Cause I’ve got a client in Metropolis that’s willing to pay me a whole lot for it.”

The smirk on Lex’s face goes from predatory to smug in a flash. “Is this a client you like, or are you just trying to kiss ass?”

“I’m just doing my job,” the man says.

“Kissing ass,” Lex translates.

“I don’t kiss anybody’s ass.” The soft drawl becomes sharper, and the man takes his hand away from the graphic novel long enough to step directly into Lex’s personal space. Lex tenses only fractionally at the intrusion. The man is considerably shorter than Lex; this is not a bad thing.

“Feel free to calm down at any time,” Lex says. “I would think that working for Wolfram & Hart would be stressful enough for anyone.”

The barrage of emotions that crosses the southerner’s face almost makes Lex laugh. Pride. Fear. Anger. Worry. He’s seen it all before, just not in such an appealing package.

“Lex Luthor,” he says removing the elusive graphic novel from the shelf and tucking it under his arm. “And you are?”

There's a beat of time for his name to register and then the response. “A loyal Wolfram & Hart employee.”

“Do you have a name, or should I just tell Mr Manners to give a raise to the first southerner he comes across?”

“It’s Oklahoma; I'm not from the South.”

“I stand corrected, Mister ---“

“McDonald. Lindsey McDonald.”

“Well, Mr McDonald, you seem to be rather devoted to your employer. I don’t suppose you’d care to show me how devoted you are?”

The fact that Mr McDonald doesn’t blink at Lex’s suggestion tells Lex all he needs to know.

“Good,” he says, gesturing towards the front of the store. “I’ll just pay for this, and we can leave.”

“Was there someplace in particular you wanted to go, Mr Luthor?”

“My dad is Mr Luthor, you can call me Lex.”

“Was there someplace in particular you wanted to go, Lex?”

“Strangely enough there is. I’ve heard about the most intriguing karaoke bar down on Washington. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to Caritas, have you?”

-end-



Random note: Alexander isn’t a gay story or a straight story; it’s just a fucking story! Thank you, Mr Farrell for the only intelligent thing you may ever say.

Comments

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Pfft. Somebody's a little high maintenance today. Despite reports to the contrary, I'm not a writing machine. And also, I have a sore throat. You know, I never got sick when I lived at home and then I left and it's all be down hill from there.