Fear and Stuff, Post #28
Jul. 14th, 2020 05:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
usedtobeljsI had not intended two+ weeks of silence, but it's been an odd year. I have work stacked upon work, and I am finding summer heat even more awful than I usually do.
Also I have been feeling v.v. fearful about the world. From the virus to horrible government figures to people hurting everywhere, the world is terrifying.
But today I got in the mail frommobile_alh the most awesome gift of an action figure of Anya Emmanuella Jenkins in her bunny suit from "Fear Itself." Suddenly I remember Gachnar the Fear Demon and the moral of proper proportions.
So, thank you, ALH, for reminding me of proper proportions, and for that -- here's a v. short I&A ficlet about that topic, set now.
The world's gone mad, Giles thinks as he closes down his laptop.
One might expect a survivor of multiple apocalypses to be immune to fear. After all, after making it out of Sunnydale as the Hellmouth imploded, what other terrors could there be? After dealing with Yeangelt and Pennith and saving London the first time of many, how could he be frightened of a virus and incompetent government?
But he's a man with a beloved wife and children, and cherished friends. Supernatural foes he can handle. The mundane world? It's worse. So much worse.
"Honey, are you still answering business email?" Anya says, padding into the study with two glasses of wine. Then she cocks an eyebrow at him. "No. Brooding again. Should have guessed. I am so, so sorry I ever convinced you to learn to use Twitter."
He laughs. She frowns. After taking the wine-glasses and setting them on the desk out of reach, he tumbles her into his lap. "Anya, darling, it's not just that revolting social media platform, although you're right, I should stop reading it. I was just...thinking about fear."
Her smile returns, and she lies back against his shoulder. "Gachnar the Fear Demon, back in the day," she says dreamily. "Such an annoying little creature. And how hot you looked, honey, wielding that chainsaw."
He drops a kiss on her hair. "You didn't think so at the time."
"Maybe I did and just didn't say."
"Nice try," he says dryly, "but no."
"No, seriously, it was the look of ferocity and control in your eyes. You still have that, it's hot as anything. Hotter," she whispers, and turns around to straddle him.
He's getting old, and sex in the chair is probably not the greatest idea. Still -- "Darling, are David and Tariq expected back anytime soon?"
"No." She kisses him, open-mouthed, familiar and new like all of her kisses. "Why do you think that I came in here with the wine?"
He muffles his amusement in a kiss on her neck, just where it makes her crazy. Then, "Sofa, darling?"
She's on her feet, helping him up. "Thought you'd never ask."
And he forgets for a blessed hour that he was ever afraid.
.......
May your days be full of lovely surprises and less fear. :)
Also I have been feeling v.v. fearful about the world. From the virus to horrible government figures to people hurting everywhere, the world is terrifying.
But today I got in the mail from
mobile_alh the most awesome gift of an action figure of Anya Emmanuella Jenkins in her bunny suit from "Fear Itself." Suddenly I remember Gachnar the Fear Demon and the moral of proper proportions.So, thank you, ALH, for reminding me of proper proportions, and for that -- here's a v. short I&A ficlet about that topic, set now.
The world's gone mad, Giles thinks as he closes down his laptop.
One might expect a survivor of multiple apocalypses to be immune to fear. After all, after making it out of Sunnydale as the Hellmouth imploded, what other terrors could there be? After dealing with Yeangelt and Pennith and saving London the first time of many, how could he be frightened of a virus and incompetent government?
But he's a man with a beloved wife and children, and cherished friends. Supernatural foes he can handle. The mundane world? It's worse. So much worse.
"Honey, are you still answering business email?" Anya says, padding into the study with two glasses of wine. Then she cocks an eyebrow at him. "No. Brooding again. Should have guessed. I am so, so sorry I ever convinced you to learn to use Twitter."
He laughs. She frowns. After taking the wine-glasses and setting them on the desk out of reach, he tumbles her into his lap. "Anya, darling, it's not just that revolting social media platform, although you're right, I should stop reading it. I was just...thinking about fear."
Her smile returns, and she lies back against his shoulder. "Gachnar the Fear Demon, back in the day," she says dreamily. "Such an annoying little creature. And how hot you looked, honey, wielding that chainsaw."
He drops a kiss on her hair. "You didn't think so at the time."
"Maybe I did and just didn't say."
"Nice try," he says dryly, "but no."
"No, seriously, it was the look of ferocity and control in your eyes. You still have that, it's hot as anything. Hotter," she whispers, and turns around to straddle him.
He's getting old, and sex in the chair is probably not the greatest idea. Still -- "Darling, are David and Tariq expected back anytime soon?"
"No." She kisses him, open-mouthed, familiar and new like all of her kisses. "Why do you think that I came in here with the wine?"
He muffles his amusement in a kiss on her neck, just where it makes her crazy. Then, "Sofa, darling?"
She's on her feet, helping him up. "Thought you'd never ask."
And he forgets for a blessed hour that he was ever afraid.
.......
May your days be full of lovely surprises and less fear. :)
