This the current UK number 1.

Genius!

1. Think of the first word that comes to mind when you think of me.
2. Go to http://images.google.com and search for that word.
3. Reply to this post with one of the pictures on the first page of results -- don't tell me the word.
4. Put this in your own blog so that I can do the same.

Friday night was pizza night when I was a kid. My Dad worked - and still works - long hours in a civil service job, but he usually managed to make it home early Friday night so that we could sit on the couch as a family and swig soda and get cheese strings everywhere. We'd watch something like Flight of the Navigator or DARYL or *Batteries Not Included, and my Mom would eventually wander off to go and do something else, but Dad and I would pretty much fall asleep on the couch until she prodded us.

Neither of my fiances have wonderful relationships with their parents. John's mother died, and he never knew his father. Jean-Paul has pretty much cut off contact with his family, other than his sisters. So many of my friends in the mutant and gay communities - and even the straight non-mutants - come from home environments that weren't exactly filled with love and devotion.

I feel a bit... awkward, sometimes. Privileged, because I had, and have, two parents who love me, who love each other, who have always supported my decisions even when I thought they didn't or wouldn't. I know it must have been incredibly hard raising a gifted child, who then turned out to be gay, and a mutant, and in a relationship with two men at once (one a former terrorist, the other a rather outspoken activist). But they've raised their reservations without once making me feel as though they were judging me. My Mom goes to PFLAG meetings. My Dad sends Jean-Paul political articles that might interest him. They mail us Christmas cards and cookies and remind us to eat (I think my Mom secretly loves the fact that I'm marrying a guy who can cook, and another who so utterly relishes eating).

Friday nights with John and JP don't follow any set routine, because we're all so busy with different schedules. Sometimes John's on Genosha, sometimes JP's in Montreal. But whenever we do settle down on the couch together with pizza and soda, boxes stacked up all around, I remember those Fridays with my parents, and appreciate them more the older I get.

1) Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive.

2) NO CAPTIONS!!! It must be like we're speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words.

3) They must ALREADY be on your hard drive - no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you've saved there because it resonated with you for some reason.

4) You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don't want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like.

( Got a picture of you beside me )

ooc: non-binding future ficlet, John and JP used with permission.

Born Normal

by Zachary R. A. Beaubier

Until I was six, I had the most normal childhood any boy could imagine. I grew up watching movies and reading storybooks that told the most fantastical tales of princes and dragons, mystical lands, and monsters on planets light years away. In comparison, my life was incredibly dull. As I wriggled and crawled and wandered through my parents' apartment, dodging robot dinosaurs, and sticking my tongue out at the sharks eying me from the tank, I despaired of how banal my life was.

( Read more... )

All of our family meals are memorable these days, particularly if we go out to a restaurant. There's a Czech/Russian place near our apartment that we tend to go to if we don't have special plans, and Jean-Paul likes to practice saying "borscht". They know us pretty well in there. The owner is somehow related to the guy we bought our apartment from, and they're glad for the business, even if our business is often a little strange.

Sometimes we're indistinguishable from any other family: me and Duncan and my parents; or maybe if the three of us meet up in our work gear we look like three earnest yuppies having a business lunch. Sometimes, though, we have people ranging from Wildchild to a slightly drippy ex-senator crammed around a table, while Jean-Paul has his hand in John's crotch and Aurora is practically licking the waiter (not that he's ever seemed to mind).

I try to take pictures. This all seems normal now, but, not to seem morbid, but people do drift away for one reason or another, and we all change and get older. In ten years, who knows where we'll be living and who our friends will be? In any case, it'll be great to flip through the albums and remember when we were young and carefree and had great hair.

I'm getting married!

I have literally been on the phone with my mother all morning. Jean-Paul's sisters have known about his plans forever, and John is all, "Sal, I'm getting married, gotta go!" But I have two parents and a brother to deal with. My Mom is basically unearthing all the wedding plans she'd shelved when I wasn't a girl, and all the other ones she'd boxed up when I came out, and is lecturing me about the latest wedding styles. I really think this is more JP's conversation.

Jeep, can you take my Mom on line 2? Thanks!

My Dad, meanwhile, keeps chipping in about who's going to pay for this (we are) and aren't we too young (if we'd waited, JP would have exploded) and what if bad guys crash the wedding (we have months to plan so that doesn't happen).

Dunc, though, just texted me saying "as long as I don't have to be the ring boy, congrats!"

Oh, I hear splooshing in the bathroom. I think our surrogate floopy-haired Dad has just shown up to sample the punch. Hey, Angel, come on up, if you don't mind the avalanche of wrapping paper ;D

For John

Ultimate Hoodie
I Love My Geek T-Shirt
Terry Turtle
Fire Grappling Gloves
And a complete home boxing set: punch bag, speed bag, and sparring equipment for two.

For Jean-Paul

OMFG T-Shirt
I Love My Geek T-Shirt
An "Alaskan Blue" Slanket
Hothearts
Penguin USB Flash Drives
A Hamster Plushie
And: Nail Clippers!

Not much, these days.

I have a very tight schedule with teaching and studying, going to the gym, and hanging out with my boyfriends, so I have to make sure I stick to it, or everything gets out of whack. John grumbles a bit about me having to schedule in sexytimes, but that's just how it works at the moment: we're all very busy with our various obligations, and it would be so easy to lose track of one aspect of our lives.

But I have a pinboard in my office at work. There are two desks in there, against opposite walls, but the office is so small that I'm pretty much back-to-back with the other student-lecturer (although she's almost finished her PhD). Yael, my office-mate, has a lot of university fliers up on hers - seminars and things. Mine is just a little different.

Yes, there's a flier for a SAJ event, and an AIDS fundraiser that's coming up just before Christmas. I have one of Kelly's old political fliers - he might have lost, but he was the first openly mutant politician to even run. Mainly, though, I have my boys: bits and pieces I've cut out from newspapers. John and JP look so hot even when they're being all scrubbed up and professional.

Yael says it's not so appropriate to have those things in my workplace, that I shouldn't be making political statements and flaunting my gay lovers. But, hey, this is me, and the university knew it when they hired gay mutant Doug Ramsey. I give so much of my life to the university now, that I want to make sure I don't forget the truly important things out there in the wide world, including my partners waiting for me at home.

I'm sorry that I'm not home more often, guys. But I never forget how much I love you.

Post a picture that shows a side of you nobody knows.

Doug the geek. Doug the goof.

( Doug the guy who's all brains and no... )

[ooc: Set Thursday late afternoon/evening.]

Doug should be making milkshakes.

It's what's expected of him in a crisis these days. Caught between John and Jean-Paul's highly passionate personalities, he's so often called upon to be the peacemaker, the joker, the one member of their makeshift little family who never takes anything to heart.

Sitting in Jean-Paul's hospital room, watching his lover sleep, his fingernails are about to draw blood from his palm.

( Read more... )

Usually only as far as the nearest computer. If I'm right, there's always evidence I can use to back up my argument, and flooding someone else's inbox tends to win an argument anyway (although they might never speak to me again).

In class, though, I need to be able to explain things in more basic terms, to ensure that everyone grasps key concepts so they can apply them to actual problems. This can involve drawing on the board, acting things out, or even... Well. You'll have to come audit my class to find out.

These are just intellectual points, though. When it comes to arguments that have - or could have - a truly practical effect on my life, such as anti-gay-rights bills, the Sentinel program, or something as heinous as Proposition X, then I'll go as far as I have to. Sending polite letters to your congressman only goes so far when you have giant robots shooting at you, or the government is trying to chemically castrate you.

The UK government recently apologized to Alan Turing and other gay men of his era for how they were treated by the legal system. There is no way on earth we should be back-sliding, and going even further than they used to.

Yes, I'll round up support on the web. I'll hand out flyers. I'll wear a pro-mutant wristband. But, when push comes to shove - and it will - I'll do whatever it takes. Not because I'm a mutant. Not because I was an X-Man. But because it's the only right thing to do.

ooc: Set in the future!verse where everyone and their dogs have kids. Not binding. Not to be taken seriously.

This is 14-year-old Dylan Kelly's first evening babysitting the three RAB kids, and he's very much looking forward to it. Ever since his older sister Beth went off to art school, he's been the babysitter of choice for the children of superpowered types - less because of his maturity (which is probably still a little lacking) or responsibility (ditto), but because he can transform into absolutely anything. Having a (mostly) indestructible babysitter can definitely be an asset.

"Here's the keys," Mr. Ramsey is telling him, as 2-year-old Jackie tugs on the leg of his jeans. "And all of our numbers in case you need to call us. And Sally, in case you can't get us, and..."

"Don't let any of them play with matches. Or lighters," Mr. Allerdyce says. "And don't let Zach drink too much juice before bed or he'll be up all night..."

"It'll be fiiiiiiiine," Mr. Beaubier grins, and pats Dylan on the back, before frowning. "Chrisse, you're tall. I knew you when you were a sea monkey. I'm getting old! Johhhhhn, tell me, be honest, am I getting wrinkles?"

( Read more... )

How this works: Pick a band/musician and answer the questions with song titles by the band/musician you chose.

Band/Musician: Pet Shop Boys

Who are you?
Boy Strange

How do you live your life?
Se A Vida É (That's the Way Life Is)

How do you see yourself?
The Samurai in Autumn

How do others see you?
The Boy Who Couldn't Keep His Clothes On

How are you feeling?
I Get Along

How do you love?
Always On My Mind

What is your greatest weakness?
Two Divided By Zero

What is your greatest strength?
Love, Etc.

What is your greatest fear?
A Man Could Get Arrested

What is your greatest wish?
Liberation

What are you looking for?
Heart

What have you found?
Beautiful People

The ones with the monkeys on them.

I know most people (not that most people ever see them) probably just think – "Oooh, monkeys! Cute!". But for me they're about far more than that: a reminder of our close links to our primate cousins, the complete rejection of creationism in favor of evolution, the probability of enough monkeys combined with enough typewriters producing Hamlet one day, and how cool it really would be to have a tail.

I'm pretty sure that people with tails just don't appreciate them. I asked Kurt about his once. I mean, it has endless possibilities –it's a fifth limb. He can hang from trees with it, write with it… it provides him with added balance. But he just said – in German – that people kept stepping on it, and it made finding a good pair of jeans murder.

When Mystique turns good again, or when Dylan learns to talk, I'm going to have to ask them about the benefits of having tails versus not. But until then, I'll just have to stare ponderingly at my boxer shorts and imagine it for myself.

A cheerful song, because it's called for today, I think:

The UK government has apologized for being assholes to Alan Turing, who pretty much saved the whole damn world and was then chemically castrated for the crime of being gay.

Yeah, it's just them being PC, and doesn't help Turing or any of the other gay people who also suffered, but, well, hmph, it still made me happy.

:D

ooc: JP used with permission!

It takes a moment for Doug to realize, given the situation at hand, that a head is now poking around the bathroom door. A head with a mop of dark hair, two pointy ears, and a rather confused expression.

"What's that smell?" Jean-Paul asks around his unlit cigarette. There are kids in the apartment, after all.

Doug chucks a wad of wet wipes into the trash and sighs. "Dylan went sploosh."

Dylan, who seems extraordinarily reluctant to just hold still while Doug changes his diaper, giggles and kicks. "Sploosh!" he repeats, in Doug's voice. For a child whose actual communication skills are still pretty much limited to crying, he certainly has a diverse vocabulary.

JP is about to disappear again, maybe to retreat to the relative safety of the couch where Beth and Duncan are playing Mortal Kombat, when Doug tosses him the bottle of baby powder. He sniffs that, too, as if it might just be cocaine. Or rat poison.

Doug grabs Dylan by the ankles, stopping him from transforming into a giant pink teddy bear. "Here," he says to JP.

"Here what?"

"Just... you know..."

Super-speed or not, it doesn't seem to make the experience any more pleasant. "Can't we toilet-train him?" he asks, liberally dumping talc all over the kid.

"We can probably train him to turn into a toilet," Doug suggests.

"Chrisse!" JP sneezes.

Dylan beams. "Chrisse!"

"Tabernac!"

"Tabernac!"

Doug and JP look at each other.

"Oh, fu-"

Doug's hand clamps over JP's mouth. "Maybe we should let Jeanne-Marie do this from now on."

One boyfriend is nowhere to be found, and the other one is in a Huff and drinking Dr. Pepper like it's going out of style.

I'd knock their heads together if they were in the same room.

...I'll be on the couch playing Mario Kart if either of you two want to talk. Or snuggle. Or play Mortal Kombat. Really, all of our differences should be sorted out via Mortal Kombat. FINISH HIM!

*ahem*