seriously, that's YEARS. with a plural!

[schmerica]

So I have realized that today is January 22nd, which means January 24th is TUESDAY. Which, people. Tuesday will be exactly two years since I posted my first due South story.

!!!

TWO YEARS. How did that happen? When did that happen? WTF, dude? I'm still a newbie in the fandom!

It's exciting and kind of freaky at the same time. Uh, you should all feel free to write me comment porn, though, because chances are I'm not going to have it together enough to write anything for the occasion.

(I did actually write something today, unexpectedly, but it was inspired by a conversation I was having with brooklinegirl this afternoon, and I'm still waiting for her to get back from making her dinner so I can make her look at it and give me advice. Although, uh, it's been a couple of hours now, so I'm hoping she didn't get into some kind of tragic cooking mishap.)

Comments

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

...you are a newbie?

...I think I read the definitions of internet terms wrong the other day.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*giggles* No, I'm not, really -- well, except for compared to the people who've been doing due South since, like, last century -- it just, you know. Feels weird! It feels like I just got here annd am still all nervous and shy!

[http://users.livejournal.com/_divya_/]

Hee, that's really funny. I think that the post you made a year ago about having been in the fandom for one year was the first post I ever read by you. I started lurking around dS LJs right around the time of the LJ blackout last year. Heee.

Happy anniversary!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*giggles* It was weird then, and it's weird now, I tell you!

[brooklinegirl.livejournal.com]

I didn't hurt myself so much as tire myself out so much that I, uh, fell asleep without actually EATING what I had cooked. *loses*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Oh, honey. That's so sad.

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

Yes, well, I'm not even at ONE year yet. So you saying you're a newbie frightens me a tad. (Though I do have the problem of assuming that everyone who was here before me was here for, like, ten years. Which they haven't.) As a result, you will NOT GET comment porn, but, um. Comment fic. With Sandra and Buddy being angsty in Buddy's car. (This probably also has more to do with my general fear of porn, so you know. Making do!)


Sandra tries to listen to Buddy, she really does. That's what people are supposed to do; that's how you manage to live with them, that's what makes them like you, and listen to you when you need to have a smoke and vent.

Only she hates him. She feels like he's betrayed her, somehow, even though they hadn't even done anything yet. They weren't even an honest-to-god affair, for God's sake. But -- she'd thought they were the same. She'd looked at that sweet little grin of his and somehow, she'd figured that they both wanted the same thing. Just -- love. Pure and simple. No complications, just like everyone wanted when they were sixteen. She'd thought that he and Carol were like her and Greg. Greg had wanted complications, wanted to bring his parents into it, and finances, and her parents, and ultimately -- ultimately he just left, saying she wasn't putting everything she had into the relationship, even though she was.

She'd thought Buddy wanted someone like her, someone who could just say, "I love you," and leave it at that. Someone who could let her live her life and live his life and just manage -- somehow -- to make them overlap. She'd had the whole thing mapped out in her head: she was going to save him from a broken marriage that he couldn't bring himself to throw away on his own. Someday he'd be able to do it, and they'd be happy together.

Turns out, he just wanted sex. No love. Just sex. And it looks like even Buddy French -- with his little cute boyish smile and earnest eyes and hair that won't ever lie flat -- even he can lie. He's just like the rest of them. God, he and his wife deserve each other.

And Sandra -- Sandra's left behind in the dust, just like she always is. She's looking for someone out there who just loves her just for the sake of loving her -- and she's forty-two years old, and there is no way in the world that she'll find that now. She's forty-two years old, and she did all her growing up when Emily was born, and that wasn't enough. It's never enough, and it never works, and there's just a point where you have to decide that what you're doing isn't working.

Picking up random married men and expecting true love isn't working. Waiting until the last minute, the very last minute, and hoping the entire time -- that doesn't work either.

"I look at her sometimes," he's saying, with that tragic look that makes her think he's actually being sincere, for once, "and I see -- it's almost like -- 'where did you go?'"

And that is just the last straw. Sure, he loves his wife, but he's lost her somewhere along the line, so it's just perfectly fine to take some girl like Sandra for a ride until, by some miracle, he finds her again.

All right, it's final. She really does hate him.


*shuffles* Sorry about the inaccurate voices, I've never done Wilby fic before. But. I'm trying, because you are awesome and I wanted to do something for your anniversary. *g*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Awwwwwwww! It's lovely! I clutch Sandra to my bosom, because awwww. God, that's a movie chockfull of woobies.

Thank you so, so much!

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

*beams*

OMG, WW is like the secret hideout where all the woobies go to be supremely woobieish. I've been trying to work up the courage to do Duck/Dan, but they are SO SUPREMELY CUTE that I don't even know what to DO with them. *sigh*