{ "Yeah-- I don't twirl the interns." }

CAM SPAM! In honour of my FINALLY having caught up with Bones and also Cam's hotass wardrobe. Fuck yes. It's difficult to get decent full-length pictures of her clothes, guys!

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So, like, for serious I do have a lot more to say about ~things~ but guys, in the past 18-24 hours I watched 8 episodes straight and my brain is not even a little bit ready to deal with all that. I will hurrah! a couple of things, though, namely: Wendall omg; the Egyptian department; Mr Nigel Vincent-Murray, you guys; CHEF GORDON GORDON; Papa Gibbs Grandpa Booth; BABYLONIAN NUMBER SYSTEMS. OH YEAH.

And that's all for now. (!!!!)

{ zebra > most things, guys, let's face it. }

{ thick as what-all. }

Who here loves Brick? All of you, I hope; if not, sit down and watch it, or never ever tell me. It's a brilliant little noir piece featuring a wonderful script and a fantastic performance by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Just astounding.

In case it wasn't obvious: I LOVE THIS FILM.

I also am terrible, terrible fond of one Ms. zeitheist who, amongst other things, is a kindly person with an amazing talent for writing. Like. Sometimes you go to certain authors because what they write is what you want to read. And sometimes you can go to an author because it's what you want to read but it's also written in a way that makes it all the more compelling. zeitheist falls in that latter category. Often she has a spectacularly light hand, and a great eye for detail. I don't come away from her writing feeling like she's trying to pull one over on me; it's sophisticated, but zeitheist is never laughing at her audience or trying to prove that she is cleverer than they are. She's a storyteller, and I appreciate that about her not only because I value stories but because I value the effort she puts into the telling. It's not just narrative, it's language, and I think that is exceptionally clear in the fic that she has written me.

Plenty of Swift (Brain; Brendan; fallout

Brain never does figure out who went to the bulls, but it was probably just some low-level goon trying to jaw his way off a possession rap. How they found out about it is anybody’s foggiest. Point is: the story lands on a Thursday with all the charm and subtlety of a punch and everybody from the upper crust to the dope rats suddenly starts making sure they’re not found anywhere near it. Whoever spilled the whole sorry tale clearly knew enough to tell some pretty stories about Em and Frisco, and get the papers sharing Chinese whispers about the Kingpin’s dope network to boot, but it’s the mention of Dode that spells bad news for Brendan. Pretty much everybody can tell you what went down between him and Em and there’s a handful of hash-heads who saw Brendan give Dode the shakedown, who’d hand him over in a hot minute if it meant saving their own skins.

The fic is set post-film (so for serious: watch that first; you won't regret it) and is a picture of the school trying to get back to some sort of status quo. Except-- it is that, but it's also a fic about Brain and Brendan; about who Brain is, and whether or not he and Brendan are all surface-value. It's a quick read, so read it twice. Enjoy it. Enjoy what it says about this interior world that Johnson created and then realise that you are back in it. A wonderful thing. Check it out; you'll be doing yourself a favour.

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♥