QUERY OR FIC.

Last month I said that I’d give anyone who correctly guessed the fic I wrote for H/D holidays a reward: they could pick between a drabble of any fandom of their choice, or ask me 5 questions about any of my fics.

Then the guessing started and everything got messy because all the people who guessed correctly were like “but i don’t want to officially guess” and some of them I don’t know so I couldn’t be like “no it’s okay!” and some of them guessed but already had hints so it didn’t really count, and basically the whole thing was a wash and I am having trouble enforcing this reward system.

So let’s just say, for my own personal edification, that this is a QUERY OR FIC post for all comers:

you can either ask me 5 questions about any of my fics, or prompt me for 100 words in the fandom/pairing of your choice.

(if i don’t know the fandom i’ll look at you funny, but feel free to try me anyway.)

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Protected:

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Protected:

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Protected:

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I do not want comments on this post because it is too shameful. D:

But I have to say that somewhere in the utter craptastic horror that is the last year’s worth of Gilmore Girls eps, post-April, post-Amy S-P leaving the show, post-Jess’s Last Stand (*weeps*)…

somewhere in this horrendous pile of shit I have started to really, really like Logan. He’s been consistently awesome ever since he left for London. D: How could this happen to me. And just when he’s probably going to get replaced by psycho-stalker Marty, too.

Life. Hard. *sigh*

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So, because my life is boring, let me tell you what I just did!

See, there’s this tiny delapidated cafe down the block that I have walked by a million times over the years since I’ve lived in this town. I have actually entered it probably four or five times because the door is always standing wide open. The inside is huge, as if it existed on the inside of Mad Eye Moody’s trunk or something, which is ironic considering the name of the place is Le Petit Cafe. When you step inside, it always looks as if the owners were suddenly snatched from this world in mid-preparation for a giant party; the tables are always set, the music is always on – and there is never anyone there. It is so eerie.

(This is a bad and blurry shot of the cafe from the outside. That’s not ectoplasm you see in the background, but Christmas lights from the courthouse square a few blocks up.)

The hours are listed plainly on the door, but perhaps someone forgot to tell the owners what they were, because I have been inside the place during regular hours, and during the irregular ones. It always looks the same.

Except that tonight went I went inside and someone was there!!!! A real live Frenchwoman, with an accent and everything. It is the kind of place where the owner does not hand you a menu, but rather tells you that ze hav zees, zees, and zees tonight, and oh, you must try some of the fish zoup ze hav just made! And then you eat it and it is amazing.

It turned out that I would like scallops! Like Shirota Yuu, I will now entertain you with my food.

I love scallops, they are one of my favorite foods ever, and I seriously think that they contain some sort of endorphin-like chemical in them, because every time I eat them I feel completely ridiculously happy for hours afterwards. I’m sitting here now giggling and grinning stupidly, first at my scallop story and then at , and then at talking about TezuRyo and ANNNNNYWAY. These were special scallops because they were served in some sort of amazing cream wine sauce, and oh my god, French bread. Orphne. THE BREAD.

So I’m eating my endorphin-laced scallops, right, and the French lady and her daughter sit down across the room and start having their own meal, which is the clearly awesome part about being a French chef and owning your own cafe, because you get to eat sexy French food all the time – and they start chattering away in French.

Their conversation starts to sound something like this to me:

“Ah, oui, je travaille beaucoups de la poisson dans le pleure que cette fille comme t’appelle Luke!”

“Ahh, et le salle a manger et le pinache etois etudier le bonnheur temps qu’est-ce que c’est Lo-re-lei?”

“No, le voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soit le nouveau riche parfait dans le jour Rory!”

“Pas de deux?” “Savais, je connais la finetre, c’est Dean!”

….Which was how I wound up having a conversation in horrible French about the Gilmore Girls with two French women who had ONLY JUST SEEN the part of last season where everything went sucky. The daughter was all, “Le mariage de Luke et Lorelei, j’etait SPOILERED >:0 >:0″ and I’m all “OUI OUI CHRIS EST UN PIECE DE MERDE TRUFAX!”

It was fun, and now I feel surprisingly well-refreshed, like I just played a round of tennis instead of gorging myself on seafood, tap water, and healthy anti-Sherman-Palladino rage.

This is the view from the steps outside my house at night. You can’t tell, really, because my cameraphone is a mess, but those are the christmas lights all over the courthouse square in the background. It is lovely. La cite, je l’aime.

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Dear world,

ARGH.

*cries*

I have tried four times to download the Season Finale of the Gilmore Girls and it keeps stalling at different points along the way, and every point each new download stops at in the show is just making me angstier and angstier. GOD. HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING.

Show I love with all my heart, I am starting to wonder if you are worth this kind of torture. And I don’t just mean Matt Czuchry, either. *scowl* I have stuck by you grumbling all the while throughout this entire season of angst, pain, and woeful OOCness. I can take anything you throw at me tonight, baby, including never getting to see how the fucking ep ends.

dear flist, if anyone out there has a link to a non-corrupt version of this episode, I will strew roses at your feet and laud you with praise. And you know no one can laud you like me. *begs and begs*

edit: nevermind, nevermind, Orphne to the rescue as usual. God. I should just buy her a cowboy hat and call her John Wayne. Or a collar and call her Lassie. Or a horse and call her Tonto. Or a shiny black bodysuit and call her Batman. I could do this all day.

ANYWAY. Just so this post will not be completely ridiculous, TALK TO ME ABOUT SEASON FINALES, FOLKS. I DO NOT CARE IF YOU SPOIL. I JUST WANT TO HEAR YOUR RANTING AND OBSESSION TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY OWN.

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Ficlet: Gilmore Girls!

asdfj;sadlkj I don’t know what I’m doing. nailfile commented on my tezuryo ficlet with this icon, and suddenly I needed to write about Logan and Rory, and Logan and Jess and Rory. Because I should not be enjoying this season of the Gilmore Girls nearly as much as I am, but clearly Amy Sherman-Palladino has my reluctant heart forever.

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