And now I can't sleep
Mar. 3rd, 2009 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cleolindaSo I went to bed a little before eleven, tired from all the computer-fretting and dog-chasing and doll-mediating. (If you're just coming in, A Long-Awaited Addition joined The Shelf today.) And just as I was about to drop off to sleep, I realized that someone was sitting beside me. Not on the bed--on the nightstand. Someone small.
"I knew I was gonna have to have a talk with you about--Anna?"
She was sitting by my alarm clock, her eyes fixed on some distant point. "Expecting someone else?" she said dryly.
"Where is he now?"
"He was poking around your CD shelf. He's wandering around getting his sparkle all over everything now."
"That’s okay. I said he could. Look at things, I mean."
He had asked me, actually, if he could look around; he seemed to think that not asking first would be some gross breach of etiquette. I told him to make himself at home, go through the books, read whatever he wanted. And then I kicked the Twilight books under the bed (Eowyn's bookmarks be damned), because… that would just be too weird. Like Eowyn running into her own double that time, or that part in the Neverending Story book where it gets all meta unto infinity and shit. It was okay when the Faramirs were reading up on Lord of the Rings, you know? They were hardly in it as it was, as opposed to the... voyeuristic quality of... Edward reading about Bella thinking about Edward not being able to tell what Bella's thinking about Edward thinking about... look, I don't even want to contemplate, okay?
The CDs were a different story—no music allowed in the middle of the night, obviously—but I'd told him he could browse the cases, no problem.
"Just don’t laugh at my taste in music. I know it’s horrible."
"Not at all! Richard Marx is a very underappreciated artist."
I leaned over closer to Anna so he wouldn't hear me: "Anyway, he doesn't sparkle, like, 24/7 or something. Just in direct sunlight. And he doesn't want anyone to see that anyway. It's not like he's dripping glitter all over my Snickets or anything."
I peered across the room and saw that he’d settled down with The Annotated Phantom of the Opera on the shelf by the door. Right under Faramir and Eowyn’s shelf—I hope he doesn't hang around there if Eowyn's around, but whatever keeps him occupied for now, that's fine. The entire Anne of Green Gables series and all my Louisa May Alcotts are over there on the second level—he could be there for weeks.
"I’m not gonna let him watch you sleep or imprint on you or eat your brains or whatever the hell it is he does--"
"Imprinting’s what the werewolves do, he won’t do that--"
"You’re damn right he won’t do that, he’ll scrapbook in hell first."
Suddenly I found myself imagining a very dainty scrapbook spread done up in red and orange paper with ~* Hell *~ scrolling elegantly across the top. Maybe flames drawn in with glitter pens or something.
"Or on Lyra," she said, glancing up (Lyra and Iorek [and Pan] sleep up on the top shelf of the nightstand). "She’s a tough kid but she didn’t come with any weapons, that’s for sure. I’ll sit here all night if I have to. Every night. You’ll see. I’ll keep watch. He won’t come over here. Damn disco ball creeper. I’d like to see him try."
"So… what you’re saying here is… you’re going to watch me sleep all night to make sure he doesn’t watch me sleep all night."
Anna glared at me. “It’s not sick when I do it. I’m not going to sit here all night and—think about you."
"No, you’re just going to sit here and think about him thinking about me. What’s that saying? He who fights monsters needs to check himself before he becomes one? You look into the sparkle for too long and the sparkle looks into you, or something? OW! GODDAMMIT! WHAT WAS THAT! YOUR PISTOL? YOU THREW YOUR PISTOL AT ME?"
"THAT’S GRATITUDE FOR YOU!"
"YEAH WELL I’M KEEPING IT NOW! THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS!"
She sat back down with a thump and a huff. "I’m not leaving. I’m gonna keep sitting here. And you’re gonna give my pistol back."
"NO, I’M NOT."
"Fine. You keep it for self-defense."
"GOODNIGHT, ANNA."
(More from the Secret Life of Dolls.)
"I knew I was gonna have to have a talk with you about--Anna?"
She was sitting by my alarm clock, her eyes fixed on some distant point. "Expecting someone else?" she said dryly. "Where is he now?"
"He was poking around your CD shelf. He's wandering around getting his sparkle all over everything now.""That’s okay. I said he could. Look at things, I mean."
He had asked me, actually, if he could look around; he seemed to think that not asking first would be some gross breach of etiquette. I told him to make himself at home, go through the books, read whatever he wanted. And then I kicked the Twilight books under the bed (Eowyn's bookmarks be damned), because… that would just be too weird. Like Eowyn running into her own double that time, or that part in the Neverending Story book where it gets all meta unto infinity and shit. It was okay when the Faramirs were reading up on Lord of the Rings, you know? They were hardly in it as it was, as opposed to the... voyeuristic quality of... Edward reading about Bella thinking about Edward not being able to tell what Bella's thinking about Edward thinking about... look, I don't even want to contemplate, okay?
The CDs were a different story—no music allowed in the middle of the night, obviously—but I'd told him he could browse the cases, no problem.
"Just don’t laugh at my taste in music. I know it’s horrible."
"Not at all! Richard Marx is a very underappreciated artist."I leaned over closer to Anna so he wouldn't hear me: "Anyway, he doesn't sparkle, like, 24/7 or something. Just in direct sunlight. And he doesn't want anyone to see that anyway. It's not like he's dripping glitter all over my Snickets or anything."
I peered across the room and saw that he’d settled down with The Annotated Phantom of the Opera on the shelf by the door. Right under Faramir and Eowyn’s shelf—I hope he doesn't hang around there if Eowyn's around, but whatever keeps him occupied for now, that's fine. The entire Anne of Green Gables series and all my Louisa May Alcotts are over there on the second level—he could be there for weeks.
"I’m not gonna let him watch you sleep or imprint on you or eat your brains or whatever the hell it is he does--""Imprinting’s what the werewolves do, he won’t do that--"
"You’re damn right he won’t do that, he’ll scrapbook in hell first."Suddenly I found myself imagining a very dainty scrapbook spread done up in red and orange paper with ~* Hell *~ scrolling elegantly across the top. Maybe flames drawn in with glitter pens or something.
"Or on Lyra," she said, glancing up (Lyra and Iorek [and Pan] sleep up on the top shelf of the nightstand). "She’s a tough kid but she didn’t come with any weapons, that’s for sure. I’ll sit here all night if I have to. Every night. You’ll see. I’ll keep watch. He won’t come over here. Damn disco ball creeper. I’d like to see him try.""So… what you’re saying here is… you’re going to watch me sleep all night to make sure he doesn’t watch me sleep all night."
Anna glared at me. “It’s not sick when I do it. I’m not going to sit here all night and—think about you.""No, you’re just going to sit here and think about him thinking about me. What’s that saying? He who fights monsters needs to check himself before he becomes one? You look into the sparkle for too long and the sparkle looks into you, or something? OW! GODDAMMIT! WHAT WAS THAT! YOUR PISTOL? YOU THREW YOUR PISTOL AT ME?"
"THAT’S GRATITUDE FOR YOU!""YEAH WELL I’M KEEPING IT NOW! THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS!"
She sat back down with a thump and a huff. "I’m not leaving. I’m gonna keep sitting here. And you’re gonna give my pistol back.""NO, I’M NOT."
"Fine. You keep it for self-defense."
"GOODNIGHT, ANNA."
(More from the Secret Life of Dolls.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 06:57 am (UTC)WORD. He was my first musical crush. One of the highlights of the last few years was seeing him perform (http://jeeperstseepers.livejournal.com/11369.html) at one of those small shows you need to win tickets to.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 06:59 am (UTC)LOLOLOLOL. This is my favorite Edward synonym ever.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:05 am (UTC)Not that I WANT her attack him with stakes and holy water and garlic and those blessed wafer things...
...well, yeah, I kind of do.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:10 am (UTC)I think perhaps the lady dost protest too muchno subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:11 am (UTC)Anyone else get a PBS Wild Animal Docu-voice-over in their head when looking at the picture of Edward Dollen on the bookshelf?
As the wild sparklepire explores his new territory, a few of the native creatures keep their distance...
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:38 am (UTC)Mwhahaha. The denizens of hell might kick him out for being too much of scapbooking prude.
*
Date: 2009-03-03 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 07:59 am (UTC)This made me so happy.
Thank you! (Love to Anna!)
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 08:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 08:05 am (UTC)This is the perfect metaphor for what happened to those of us who read your reviews, said to themselves, "I've got to see this for myself," and ended up owning all four books, seeing the movie, and joining
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 08:07 am (UTC)*dies laughing, and then looks around to make sure no one is listening* It's ok, Anna, I get told that a lot. Ahem.
But erhm, yes. This whole thing is making me giggle way too much. Sparklepires indeed. *grin*
Also, I have fallen for my first doll (http://pullipstyle.com/pullipstyle/shop/pullip/craziia06) since childhood. And she comes with the world's most obnoxious musical instrument AND a Sghian Dubh. Catrionia Moya is going to play her pipes in a Scottish punk band by night and go to the University of Aberdeen by day to get her degree in Celtic Studies. It's all over, really, when she has a history and she's not even paid for, isn't it?
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 08:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 08:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 09:01 am (UTC)This just made me think of the end of one of my favorite books, Summon the Keeper. The sweet, slightly dim, obsessively clean hotel handyman willingly goes to Hell to save the world, and then gets kicked out because you can't go to Hell willingly. The last line of the entire book, in the voice of The Pit:
HEY! WHO TIDIED UP THE BRIMSTONE?
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 09:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 09:25 am (UTC)Is there gonna be a Faramirs/Anna/"disco ball creeper" showdown soonish? I am very excited.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 09:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 10:00 am (UTC)YOU HAVE GOT TO LET HIM READ TWILIGHT. JUST THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES.