it's a tad too long. . .
May. 1st, 2003 03:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
doll-revolution.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionbut i've already cut a lot of words. and while i'm sure i could cut more, i don't think i could cut 85 more. so you'll just have to deal. ^__^
When Stanley Raymond Kowalski was eight years old, his most favorite drink in the world was cherry Kool-Aid. Not because of the high sugar content, or even how it would dye his mouth red for weeks. No, he liked it best because his mother only made it for special occasions. Birthdays, Easter, Christmas. . .there was always a pitcher of Kool-Aid.
The very best times were when his mother would pour it into the big thermos. That meant they were going to the beach, and there'd be hot dogs and Frisbees, and touch football, and everyone would be smiling and laughing, and no-one would say "For God's sake, stop fidgeting, Stanley!" or "Can't you just be still?"
Cherry Kool-Aid was the best.
***
When Benton Fraser was eight years old, his favorite drink in the whole wide world was water made from melted snow. Not that it was that much different from the regular water he habitually drank, and not even that it was a change from milk, the only other beverage his grandmother would allow him. He liked it best of all because that meant he was camping with his father.
"You've got to be tough, son," his father would say, and they wouldn't take any supplies with them. They had to melt snow, and eat lichen, and wrestle their very survival from the wilderness. And certainly, lichen wasn't all that tasty, but his father was with him, and he was right there, and that had to count for something, right?
Melted snow really wasn't that bad.
***
When Ray Kowalski was 17, he drank a lot of beer. He'd swagger into the liquor store, flash some attitude, and walk out with a 24-pack of Old Style. He'd shove some in his backpack, go pick up Stella, and roar off into the night on his motorcycle.
They'd go behind the school bleachers and drink, and Stella would giggle, pull him close, and give him long, wet, beer-flavored kisses. They would rub up against each other, and have drunken, half-clothed sex, and know that they were forever.
Ray had Stella and beer; he was a god.
***
When Benton Fraser was 17, he drank a lot of orange juice. There were so many people at the Depot, more than he was used to being around, so he was certain the extra vitamin C would not be amiss.
His first months there, the other cadets would invite him to their weekend parties, and he'd go, but he wouldn't drink with them. The invitations slowed down, and after the. . .unfortunate incident involving the boomerang and the gasoline, they stopped altogether. He just was not the kind of person you could hang around with.
Benton had orange juice and a reputation; he was a legend.
***
When Ray got divorced, he drank almost nothing but scotch. It's not that he liked it, particularly, but everything in his new, empty apartment reminded him of the gaping Stella-shaped hole in his life. Everything.
The toothpaste was her brand, the soap smelled like her, the carpet was her favorite color, and the CDs! Every one of them had a memory attached, a memory of a time when Stella loved him. He was overwhelmed; he had to block off the memories or die from pain.
Scotch worked really well.
***
When Fraser started working in Chicago, he drank almost nothing but tea. It's not that he liked it, particularly, but he did like the process of it. Chicago was so. . .foreign. It wasn't a bad place, per se, but every day he was reminded of how much he didn't belong.
He had a wolf, he was too polite, his assigned tasks were demeaning, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. But with tea, if you followed the steps, did each to the best of your ability -boil the water, so! Steep, thusly!- you'd have a perfect cup of tea. The types of people you'd sent to jail didn't matter.
Tea gave him control.
***
When Ray went undercover as Vecchio, he went back to drinking beer. He was going to be partnered with a Mountie, for chrissake! He didn't want to be so numb and out of it that he caused an international incident. Besides, he'd seen pictures – that Fraser looked like kind of a tight-ass.
So: coffee during the day to keep up with the Mountie, beer at night to keep the Stella-thoughts away. He could do that. He'd have to do that.
The beer would be enough.
***
When Ray Vecchio went undercover, Fraser kept drinking tea. His first days back from vacation were something of a blur, but once he settled in and got a good look at the new Ray, Fraser could see that his partner was wound up tighter than a spring.
He was a very good police officer, Fraser could tell that easily. But he also seemed somewhat obsessive in nature. It would probably be best to keep all temptation out of his way.
The tea would be an example.
***
When Ray went looking for the Hand of Franklin with Fraser, he drank whatever the hell Fraser gave him. What did he know about surviving in the Arctic? He looked to Fraser, listened to Fraser, learned from Fraser, and slowly, surely, fell in love with Fraser.
When Ray realized that, he choked on his tea for 20 minutes, and tried to subtly edge away from Fraser's hand on his back.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do?
***
When Fraser went looking for the Hand of Franklin with Ray, he didn't remember drinking anything at all. Or eating, or speaking, or even breathing, for that matter. All he saw was Ray. Ray, his best friend; Ray, who believed in him; Ray, who chose to stay with him when everyone else left. Ray whom he loved.
When Fraser realized that, he buried his face in the fur at Dief's neck and sighed.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do?
***
When Ben and Ray moved to Yellowknife, they drank whatever they wanted. Tea, when they came in from shoveling the drive, and their faces were flush with cold. Beer, when they were curled up together on the sofa, watching the Blackhawks lose yet again. Scotch, before going to the funeral of Fraser's newest constable, lost in the line of duty. Champagne, at the ceremony where they bound their lives together.
They drank whatever they wanted.
1085 words
When Stanley Raymond Kowalski was eight years old, his most favorite drink in the world was cherry Kool-Aid. Not because of the high sugar content, or even how it would dye his mouth red for weeks. No, he liked it best because his mother only made it for special occasions. Birthdays, Easter, Christmas. . .there was always a pitcher of Kool-Aid.
The very best times were when his mother would pour it into the big thermos. That meant they were going to the beach, and there'd be hot dogs and Frisbees, and touch football, and everyone would be smiling and laughing, and no-one would say "For God's sake, stop fidgeting, Stanley!" or "Can't you just be still?"
Cherry Kool-Aid was the best.
***
When Benton Fraser was eight years old, his favorite drink in the whole wide world was water made from melted snow. Not that it was that much different from the regular water he habitually drank, and not even that it was a change from milk, the only other beverage his grandmother would allow him. He liked it best of all because that meant he was camping with his father.
"You've got to be tough, son," his father would say, and they wouldn't take any supplies with them. They had to melt snow, and eat lichen, and wrestle their very survival from the wilderness. And certainly, lichen wasn't all that tasty, but his father was with him, and he was right there, and that had to count for something, right?
Melted snow really wasn't that bad.
***
When Ray Kowalski was 17, he drank a lot of beer. He'd swagger into the liquor store, flash some attitude, and walk out with a 24-pack of Old Style. He'd shove some in his backpack, go pick up Stella, and roar off into the night on his motorcycle.
They'd go behind the school bleachers and drink, and Stella would giggle, pull him close, and give him long, wet, beer-flavored kisses. They would rub up against each other, and have drunken, half-clothed sex, and know that they were forever.
Ray had Stella and beer; he was a god.
***
When Benton Fraser was 17, he drank a lot of orange juice. There were so many people at the Depot, more than he was used to being around, so he was certain the extra vitamin C would not be amiss.
His first months there, the other cadets would invite him to their weekend parties, and he'd go, but he wouldn't drink with them. The invitations slowed down, and after the. . .unfortunate incident involving the boomerang and the gasoline, they stopped altogether. He just was not the kind of person you could hang around with.
Benton had orange juice and a reputation; he was a legend.
***
When Ray got divorced, he drank almost nothing but scotch. It's not that he liked it, particularly, but everything in his new, empty apartment reminded him of the gaping Stella-shaped hole in his life. Everything.
The toothpaste was her brand, the soap smelled like her, the carpet was her favorite color, and the CDs! Every one of them had a memory attached, a memory of a time when Stella loved him. He was overwhelmed; he had to block off the memories or die from pain.
Scotch worked really well.
***
When Fraser started working in Chicago, he drank almost nothing but tea. It's not that he liked it, particularly, but he did like the process of it. Chicago was so. . .foreign. It wasn't a bad place, per se, but every day he was reminded of how much he didn't belong.
He had a wolf, he was too polite, his assigned tasks were demeaning, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. But with tea, if you followed the steps, did each to the best of your ability -boil the water, so! Steep, thusly!- you'd have a perfect cup of tea. The types of people you'd sent to jail didn't matter.
Tea gave him control.
***
When Ray went undercover as Vecchio, he went back to drinking beer. He was going to be partnered with a Mountie, for chrissake! He didn't want to be so numb and out of it that he caused an international incident. Besides, he'd seen pictures – that Fraser looked like kind of a tight-ass.
So: coffee during the day to keep up with the Mountie, beer at night to keep the Stella-thoughts away. He could do that. He'd have to do that.
The beer would be enough.
***
When Ray Vecchio went undercover, Fraser kept drinking tea. His first days back from vacation were something of a blur, but once he settled in and got a good look at the new Ray, Fraser could see that his partner was wound up tighter than a spring.
He was a very good police officer, Fraser could tell that easily. But he also seemed somewhat obsessive in nature. It would probably be best to keep all temptation out of his way.
The tea would be an example.
***
When Ray went looking for the Hand of Franklin with Fraser, he drank whatever the hell Fraser gave him. What did he know about surviving in the Arctic? He looked to Fraser, listened to Fraser, learned from Fraser, and slowly, surely, fell in love with Fraser.
When Ray realized that, he choked on his tea for 20 minutes, and tried to subtly edge away from Fraser's hand on his back.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do?
***
When Fraser went looking for the Hand of Franklin with Ray, he didn't remember drinking anything at all. Or eating, or speaking, or even breathing, for that matter. All he saw was Ray. Ray, his best friend; Ray, who believed in him; Ray, who chose to stay with him when everyone else left. Ray whom he loved.
When Fraser realized that, he buried his face in the fur at Dief's neck and sighed.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do?
***
When Ben and Ray moved to Yellowknife, they drank whatever they wanted. Tea, when they came in from shoveling the drive, and their faces were flush with cold. Beer, when they were curled up together on the sofa, watching the Blackhawks lose yet again. Scotch, before going to the funeral of Fraser's newest constable, lost in the line of duty. Champagne, at the ceremony where they bound their lives together.
They drank whatever they wanted.
1085 words
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:12 pm (UTC)we're just a big ol' schmoopy mutual admiration society, aren't we?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:16 pm (UTC)so thanks for all the good entertainment.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 03:21 pm (UTC)I read absolutely anything and have made it my mission in life to let people know there's so much more out there in terms of dS fan fic than just F/K stuff. :-)
(not that I have a problem with F/K stuff *G*)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 01:50 pm (UTC)It's lovely.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:17 pm (UTC)but i'm glad you like it, just as it is.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 02:22 pm (UTC)but overall, i think it turned out well. i'm glad you think so, too. ^__^
*sigh*
Date: 2003-05-01 02:25 pm (UTC)Re: *sigh*
Date: 2003-05-01 03:33 pm (UTC)glad you liked it! ^__^
no subject
Can I say I love you? :) this is what I really needed today! *g*
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Date: 2003-05-01 03:47 pm (UTC)and hey: why does dolimir get all the icons? i like cats and penguins too! :::pouts adorably::
(well, sort of adorably. glad you enjoyed the story)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 03:51 pm (UTC)next icons will yours (especially if you keep up writing lovely stories)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 03:55 pm (UTC)ARE YOU HORNING IN ON MY ICON DEALER?
Heh heh heh
And here I was gonna tell you how much I loved your story! (Which I did, btw. Very nicely done. I really liked how you laid it out and shared a bit about their lives through each section).
But a gal's gotta protect her source...pardon me while I go get my shotgun!
*snerk*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 06:50 am (UTC)and i got me a kevlar vest, so you can just your shotgun and. . .shove it!!! :::snerk:::
so: where's your 'hourglass' story???
(doll: bringing all the lurkers to ds, one by one)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:14 am (UTC)Pardon the running gun pun, but I'm a little gun shy at the moment.
Esperanza told me that my death drabble was...morbid, I believe was the word she used, and compared me to Jodie Louise (which, quite honestly, I don't know is a good or bad thing considering I haven't done a huge amount of reading in this fandom....just writers I know.
Not the warmest welcoming I've ever received upon entering a new fandom.
So, let's just say I'm not feeling the burning need to write another one.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:45 am (UTC)Esperanza told me that my death drabble was...morbid, I believe was the word she used, and compared me to Jodie Louise (which, quite honestly, I don't know is a good or bad thing considering I haven't done a huge amount of reading in this fandom....just writers I know.
Not the warmest welcoming I've ever received upon entering a new fandom.
I would actually agree with the idea that death is morbid--though I didn't actually say morbid, I said ghoulish. You don't think a story about making someone up for viewing in his coffin is ghoulish? I assumed that you were kind of going for shivery morbidity there--or was that a comedy and I missed it?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 01:21 pm (UTC)Well, hello there. *g*
I would actually agree with the idea that death is morbid--though I didn't actually say morbid, I said ghoulish. You don't think a story about making someone up for viewing in his coffin is ghoulish? I assumed that you were kind of going for shivery morbidity there--or was that a comedy and I missed it?
Hon, I wasn't flaming you. I was simply telling Doll one of the reasons I wasn't exactly running out to pen the next mini masterpiece.
I was very nervous about posting the ficlet in the first place, given the fact that it was a death dodecal (which actually sounds like something hideous, doesn't it?) No, it wasn't intended to be a comedy, but I don't know that it was necessary exactly ghoulish either.
*shrugging*
I will admit the comment stung, but hey, I'm a big girl and I can take it. Plus I realize that not every person likes everything written by everyone else. Thems the breaks. And I did get a couple of very nice comments on the piece.
It was just a little piece of fiction that hit me hard and fast. Since I didn't know quite what to do with it, I decided to post it to the community that inspired by the challenge.
I will admit my canon in ds is very shaky and I think I've only seen one episode with RayK (although I do have the tapes and plan on watching them eventually), most of my knowledge of RayK is fanon (another reason why I probably won't be posting anytime soon).
Anyway, like I said, it wasn't meant as a flame. I was simply stating why I probably wasn't going to run out and write another one anytime soon. That wasn't meant as a slap to you.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 01:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 01:58 pm (UTC)The problem with written communication is that it can be interpreted by your mood, the music you listen to, etc. It could very well be that I was just in *that* place when I read your comments.
I didn't take your comments as an insult, hon, but I didn't necessarily take them as you liked the drabble either. I just figured it wasn't your cup of tea.
I'm glad we had the opportunity to clear the air.
I hope my comments didn't offend. I tend to forget when you click on the "respond to this comment" link that it posts it on a general page. I rarely, rarely read comments left by other people and so forget that other people can read everything left behind. It was not my intent to return the smack as it were.
And Doll, thank you for your patience in letting us work this out here.
Ah!
Date: 2003-05-01 04:37 pm (UTC)Re: Ah!
Date: 2003-05-02 06:52 am (UTC)'excellent' would be your photograph story. i love the narrative style. YAY!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 05:15 pm (UTC)Can't.
Fricking. Amazing. The parallels, the contrasts, the characterizations, the last part...ohhhhhh.
Too many great parts to quote, but I *melted* at this:
"When Fraser went looking for the Hand of Franklin with Ray, he didn't remember drinking anything at all. Or eating, or speaking, or even breathing, for that matter."
Thank you for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 06:55 am (UTC)that's what i always think about your stories. (well, not the 1085 words part, but. . .)
gorgeous and amazing, that's you! so thanks!
^__^
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 07:32 pm (UTC)GAH! GAH!!!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 06:58 am (UTC)the gravel burn on your face is getting tiresome. what do you say you get up off the ground, and we worship each other (mutually!) in a never-ending embrace of intellectual eroticism?
Re:
Date: 2003-05-02 08:49 pm (UTC)now you are giving me ideas!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 07:02 am (UTC)me, too, me too! i waver wildly between fraser grandparent's being cold and repressive to just being older with a different mindset. and ray's parents being blue collar and slightly parochial to being somewhat emotionally abusive.
sigh: it's probably somewhere in the middle, but we'll never know for sure, eh?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 09:10 pm (UTC)This whole flash was fanfuckingtastic, but this line KILLED ME. Why? BECAUSE I LOVE CHERRY KOOL-AID, MAN.
No, really. This is good writing, yo. I think it flows well, and illustrates such perfect little pockets of Ray and Fraser's lives. The section about 17-year old Ben made me sniffle because man, the pressure to perform must have been enormous, and how could a Junior Mr Perfect make friends, anyways? It was ALL. GREAT.
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Date: 2003-05-02 07:03 am (UTC)and yeah: cherry kool-aid rules!!
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Date: 2003-05-02 07:09 am (UTC)the last sentence was my favorite. i felt all metaphor-y and clever. ^__^
glad i made you smile.
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Date: 2003-05-02 06:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 07:10 am (UTC)you have to post more on HS. we need the international perspective.
schmoop away. my friend!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:35 am (UTC)This was the line that I loved best--I had a very definite "woobie!" moment. Fraser at school, surrounded by people, trying to protect himself against colds. That was such a freakishly practical Fraserish thing to do!
mmmmm....
Date: 2003-05-02 10:39 pm (UTC)Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Thank you for it.
Re: it's a tad too long. . .
Date: 2003-05-04 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-04 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-18 04:50 pm (UTC)