February 28th, 2007

bear by san

fic: Dead Man's Hand

Remember when I said that "Two Pair of Aces" had a plot somewhere but I couldn't for the life of me find it?

cpolk found it.

And we wrote it. Or, to be fair, mostly she wrote it, and I fussed with her narrative beats and filled in little descriptions of notable places in Las Vegas.


Title: Dead Man's Hand
Author: cpolk and matociquala
Rating:  FRT, conservatively speaking
Pairing: Pairing?
Genre: Gen
Summary: sequel to "Two Pair of Aces." What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... maybe. 
Spoilers: Yes
Disclaimer: legally useless, of course, but no, we don't own any of this.

A Fisher King wound cannot be healed by somebody else. It's not a wound to the body. It's a wound to the memory. A wound to the mind, it's - a wound that only you can find, and a wound that only you can heal...

There's only one question that matters. There's only one really important question - can you forgive yourself?

(story at Chelsea's blog, behind the fakey fake cut tag, as is traditional.)
bear by san

Cat vs. Monkey

Tuesday:

round 1: 5:00 PM:

Cat: MONKEY! You are in the WRONG CHAIR.
Monkey: That is because my laptop is in the shop, so I am working at my desk today.
Cat: MONKEY! You are in the WRONG CHAIR.
Monkey: You always try to throw me out of the other chair when I am working in it.
Cat: MONKEY! You are in the WRONG CHAIR.
Monkey: *rearranges furniture*
Cat: *snuggles*
Monkey: *types*


round 2: 7:00 PM

Cat: MONKEY! You are IN MY CHAIR.
Monkey: *ignores*
Cat: *sits on mouse*
Monkey: *types*
Cat: *!*
Monkey: *pushes cat out of the way*


round 3: 9:00 PM

Monkey: *done with book*
Cat: *nowhere to be seen*
Monkey: *solicits play*
Cat: I don't know you.


round 4: 10:00 PM

Cat: Monkey, what are you DOING?
Monkey: *pushes cat off TV remote*
Cat: Monkey, I'm BORED.
Monkey: *Tosses glitterball at the rump of cat who is blocking television*
Cat: biPED! EEE!
Monkey: WIKTORY!
Cat: I'll get you, my pretty.


round 5: 11:00 P.M.

Cat: Monkey, I'm cold.
Monkey: *scooches over*
Cat: Monkey, I'm HUNGRY.
Monkey: *feeds cat*



Wednesday:

round 6: 12:00 AM

Cat: Monkey, it's BEDTIME.
Monkey: *typetypetype*
Cat: MONKEY. I said BEDTIME.
Monkey: Not right now. I'm writing fanfic.
Cat: *forlorn beeping*
Monkey: Whatever.


round 7: 1:00 AM

Cat: Monkey, it's still bedtime.
Monkey: So go to bed already.


round 8: 1:30 AM:

Monkey: *goes to bed*
Cat: *awakens in dark living room, having not gone to bed after all, has panic attack, wanders around the (two room) apartment crying forlornly for the monkey* MONKEY! MONKEY! WHERE ARE YOU, MONKEY?
Monkey: Oh, for the love of Mike, Cat, I'm RIGHT HERE.
Cat: *nonchalantly climbs into bed and shoves the monkey's head off her pillow*
Monkey: :-\
Cat: :-)


round 9: 2:00 AM

Cat: *licks monkey's hand to make monkey roll over*
Monkey: I hate you.


round 10: 6:00 AM

Cat: Monkey? It's six.
Monkey: *zzzzzz*


round 11: 6:15 AM

Cat: Monkey, I said it was six. Are you okay?
Monkey: go 'way I's sleepin'


round 12: 6:17 AM:

Cat: Monkey? You're SCARING ME!
Monkey: *hits cat with pillow*


round 13: 6:25 AM:

Cat: Monkey? Monkey?! MONKEY!
Monkey: *bleh?*
Cat: MONKEY THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE AND THE GOLDFISH ARE RIOTING!
Monkey: We don't have any goldfish.
Cat: Wanker.


round 14: 6:45 AM:

Cat: Monkey, are you sure you're not dying?
Monkey: Look at it this way. If you keep this up, I'm not sure YOU'RE not dying.


round 15: 7:00 AM:

Cat: Monkey?
Monkey: ....
Cat: *walks on monkey's hair*
Monkey: *hides under comforter*
Cat: *burrows under comforter after monkey*
Monkey: s'a day OFF, schtupid cat.
Cat: *burrows harder*
Monkey: *rears up in bed and enfolds cat in comforter like the bone-sucking web-wing monsters in the Beastmaster movie*
Cat: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monkey: *won't let go of cat*
Cat: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Monkey: *ejects cat from comforter*
Cat: *huff*
Monkey: *ehe*
Cat: Monkey? You are not funny.
Monkey: *awake now*


Coda: 7:41 AM:

Monkey: *makes fun of cat on the internet*
Cat: *lurks on edge of desk, glaring like a vulture*
Monkey: Just you wait. I'm playing guitar this morning.


She's already plotting the rematch. I can tell.