Ew. Kinda. With some pretty on the side.

[stillane]

Updates from the plague zone:

We are sick. Every last one of us. Ew. There is much coughing and sniffling and no one can agree on the house's general climate condition. On the plus side, this morning saw a couchful of relatives in various states of (un)dress and blanketry discussing the relative merits of mentholated cough drops. (Verdict: nasty, and not terribly effective.) I'm pretty sure we looked damn entertaining from the outside.

Also, it is snowing here. Nevermind. Apparently, it is raining here.

Also, the dogs came back from their morning outing decidedly... fragrant. As in, Eu de Skunk. As the designated critter caregiver, I got rousted out of bed to do the bathing. I do not, by and large, wake up very fast. There's nothing quite like coming to somewhere in the midst of being mostly naked with a pathetically whining Golden Retriever in a cloud of skunky morass. But: clean dogs. The big guy needed a bath anyway, and at least he can sleep on my bed tonight without either of us suffering.

Appearances to the contrary, however, it's been a decent weekend. *shrug* What can I say? I'm weird.

In other business: I've finally gotten up to Comes a Horseman and Revelation 6:8 in Highlander. I... have no words. I'd seen clips, and I'd heard tales, but I did not truly believe this show could possibly be as slashy as it is. They had to know what they were doing, right? I mean, Adrian Paul directed this. There's no way they could have shot that car scene and not thought, "Yeah. Totally doing it. Or should be."

Tears, people. Tears. And there's an outtake where Paul delivers the "We're through" line while gazing longingly at Wingfield's collarbones. I kid you not. And do they ever do a scene where these two are not either in serious, serious eye contact or very nearly in each others' pockets?

Wingfield, at least, had to have meant to do what he did. You cannot convince me that that man was not playing from the basic standpoint of Methos loves MacLeod. Just. No way.

And we're not even talking about the Double Quickening with bonus sex sounds.

Holy crap.

Notes to self:

1. Do not nurse crush on Methos. This can only end in tears, since he is quite clearly taken.

(But Peter Wingfield might just rule the universe. I have yet to see a scene that he's in and not spend the whole time watching his eyes. The man kicks ass. Subtly.)

2. Do not write Highlander fic. Again, tears. Also, have you seen your backlog lately? Rodney's still waiting to get cured of the Superbug, and Sam's been a zombie for six months now. Let's not even mention that Sunday tag for enname.

Finish corrupting the Rock and we'll talk.

(But still... Methos. Hmm. *thinky thoughts*)

Comments

[shetiger.livejournal.com]

Sorry you're ick.

But, Methos!!!!!!

Duncan/Methos is one of those pairings that I just can't believe didn't exist. Especially given CaH/Rev6:8. *loves*

[stillane.livejournal.com]

I am seemingly better today, so yay!

Duncan/Methos is one of those pairings that I just can't believe didn't exist.

I know. They just sell it. Like it's going out of style, even. I mean, you start out with the quiet riverside walk together (in which Duncan very clearly checks out Methos' ass), and then you get the nose painting, and then you get deep super angsting of the ohnoI'velosthim variety, and then... well, actually, I don't know yet. I'm still catching up, but if the rest is anything like what precedes it... whoa.

Is it possible to watch this show without the premise of them being an item? Logically, I know an awful lot of people must have, and yet I can't imagine it. I'm curious what the non-slasher takes away from it, actually. I might have to experiment on my sister and her boy. *rubs hands gleefully*

[titc.livejournal.com]

Methos!
Hey, look, a pen. To, you know, write. Please take it, it's a totally disinterested gift. A sign.
Yep.
*runs away*

[stillane.livejournal.com]

*snort* You are evil, my friend. Evil.

I have the sneaking suspicion Peter Wingfield is too damn pretty to be ignored. The eyes. *sigh*

*picks up pen*

[babelmira.livejournal.com]

Highlander should have been done here *points to Torchwood*

[stillane.livejournal.com]

You know, I can't argue with that. They would have gone that one last step - or one last inch, in some scenes - and actually made lip contact. *sigh*

That's it. Someone haul the cast back in and ship them over. *g*

[enname.livejournal.com]

You know, you don't have to put yourself out for an episode tag if you don't have the energy, power or motivation. I mean, have you even seen Sunday yet? :P However, poor Rodney does need to get cured of the Superbug. He will be sending complaints intergalactic sooner or later.

Hmm. *proffers tea of sage, honey and lemon verbena* It is better than menthol drops, that is for sure. Did the LJ magic work? Are you and the family feeling at all better? If not, then perhaps LJ needs to up its mojo a little more.

At least the dogs are less stinky. Foolish puppies with going near skunks and all. It is a hard life being a Golden Retriever. *wants a puppy all of a sudden*

[stillane.livejournal.com]

I mean, have you even seen Sunday yet? :P

You, uh, might possibly know me a little too well. Cause... not exactly. I'm still being a chicken.

You know, you don't have to put yourself out

Don't make me thwap you, lady. Written it shall be, just as soon as I'm not such a wimp. *g*

As for the being sick thing: doesn't look like I'll be submitting to JAMA any time soon. The sister is better, and the mom never really went down with it, but the dad and I are still suffering. I'm actually listening to him cough from another room as we speak. I thought I'd skipped out easy at the beginning of the week, but no such luck. I'm doing a little better today, at least; if I could just decongest the right side of my head, all would be right with the world. I've been staring longingly at the nasal spray all day long, but apparently I've reach my limit on days of use. Don't want to be a nosespray junkie, but I keep looking for my fix.

We've been joking that we have bird flu. My doctor did not laugh. Spoilsport. *g*

*proffers metaphorical puppy*

Speaking of critters... how's the cat doing, post-injury?