Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

Gay Man Comes Out To Cat

I'm not sure why I find this small bite of lunacy so fucking hysterical, because at this point the Onion is stamping out their articles with cookie cutters, but sometimes it still works for me. And on a sadder note--sad as in pathetic--Salon tells me more about Michael Jackson I didn't want to know.

I need Spanderness today. I had this whole fantasy line going about Spike's torture at the hands of rogue Initiative agents, after which I was going to send him off to convalesce in a male brothel, but somehow this tale rerouted itself into a Spike/Xander lovefest of breathtaking sweetness, and now I'm all shmoopy. I don't even know quite what I want, but I know I want it--there needs to be more Spander in my LJ world, because the lucky-charm to cereal ratio is disappointing. On my own mind is this image (courtesy of some bizarre reinterpretation of An Officer and a Gentleman, I suspect, because hey, influential) where Xander is sort of leaning back against the headboard of a bed, and Spike is sitting lazily astride his hips, and they're both wearing blue jeans, with the top button undone, but no shirts. And mussed hair. Mussed hair is important. With that breathless, sleepy-lidded, just-after-sex look. In rumpled sheets.

Yeah.
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