Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in maeglian's InsaneJournal:

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Wednesday, March 19th, 2008
12:49 pm	"Before there was snow" - movie canon triple drabble Brokeback triple drabble (300 words), Movie canon, Rating G, Jack's POV, no warnings, All the usual disclaimers apply in full. Before there was snow Jack rose out of dreams and woke with a relaxed feeling of deep contentment. He was lying close to Ennis, - warm entwined limbs tangled in blankets and bedroll. Their shared body heat had helped create a snug and pleasant cocoon. Jack neither moved nor spoke, but lay still, just looking, touching, smelling, sensing, savoring. It was the darkest, most silent hour before dawn, too early yet to think of getting up. There was barely enough light for him to see Ennis’s profile, mere inches away, face relaxed and unguarded in the tent’s protective dimness. His chest was rising and falling with even, almost inaudible breaths. Damp little curls nestled around his ear; - his hair touched by a hint of night sweat. The sight overwhelmed Jack with a jolt of tenderness so strong that he had to reach out, had to get even closer, his hand sliding softly into position palm down over Ennis’s heart. Ennis did not wake, but let out a gentle sigh. Even lost in sleep, his lips curved upwards in a small and secret smile. A peaceful hush lingered over the mountain. The ever-present wind had gone noiselessly to bed somewhere on the steep green slopes. The only discernible sound was the slight whisper from the brook, its constant murmurs emphasizing nature’s otherwise nearly preternaturally silent slumber. Jack drew a deep breath, slowly and carefully so as not to disturb the quiet. His entire being was shot through with a boundless sense of tranquility, profound happiness and peace of mind, body and soul. There weren’t words created in any language that could hope to convey how he felt in that moment. Sometimes, gratefully and humbly wrapping himself in nature’s enveloping silence was the only possible means of expression, especially for frequently so talkative Jack Twist. (Comment on this)
12:47 pm	"Spilt Milk" - a movie canon triple drabble Brokeback triple drabble (300 words), movie and OS canon, Rating G, no warnings. All the usual disclaimers apply. Spilt Milk They sat down to a quiet breakfast, cold winter darkness pressing against the windows. Coltish and half-asleep, Jack clumsily managed to hit the milk jug with his elbow, sending it crashing to the floor. His mother immediately stood to clear up the mess, patting him reassuringly on the arm. Jack apologized in a small voice, but remained immobile, crouching on his chair, eyes downcast, fearful of the consequences. The crash still reverberated in his head. He knew what was coming. His father didn’t speak, but sent him a baleful glare that made Jack’s heart sink. The rest of the meal passed in silence turned ominous. The threatening cloud of the grown man’s voiceless wrath was electrical and oppressive, as if a thunder storm was about to break over Jack’s sorry head. “You come see me in the barn right after school, boy,” his father said coldly as they left the table. Nothing more, and nothing less than expected. Jack nodded stiffly in miserable acknowledgement. “Yes, sir.” He could already feel the pain of the lashes. ~~~~ School was over all too soon. Jack dragged his heavy feet home from the bus, looking neither left nor right. Stepping inside their house on his way to the barn, a difference in atmosphere struck him immediately. He could breathe free. The air had cleared, had turned welcoming, pleasant and light. He looked around in surprise. His mother, standing at the kitchen counter, turned to smile at him warmly. “Harold called,” she said. “Your father had to drive over there right away, about those heifers they lost. He’ll have to stay over till tomorrow. It’ll just be you and me tonight, sweetie.” Jack was rendered completely speechless with relieved joy, but no matter. Sadly, his delighted grin spoke more eloquently than many a word. (Comment on this)
Sunday, March 16th, 2008
10:12 pm	"Speed, Interrupted" - BBM triple drabble Brokeback triple drabble (300 words), movie cnon, Rating G, Lureen's POV, All standard disclaimers apply in full. Speed, interrupted She used to do everything in a breakneck rush, redlining it all the way. Driving her convertible she’d step on it so much around town, she’d had to charm her way out of speeding tickets more than once. When barrel-racing she gave it her all, urging her horse on like a banshee. Throwing herself into each ride with abandon, she won her prizes that way. And of course, the whirlwind speed with which she made her moves on Jack, fell in love, got pregnant, got married, had Bobby….it had all happened so quickly, it was enough to make anyone’s head spin. Nothing could ever go fast enough. Forward momentum was her creed. She was always in a hurry. Then inexplicably life slowed down. It began trundling on instead, slowly, in deep ruts of everyday sameness. Frozen in place, she felt cold and immobile, her days progressing at glacial pace. Husband and wife, orbiting next to each other in restrained and tedious circles, going nowhere. She told herself that now she’d reached that coveted place; - marriage, money, a child, even a job she was good at - movement wasn’t really desirable anymore. It was unnecessary, would only remove her from the center of perfection. So she contented herself with seeing how fast her fingers could fly across the adding machine, how quickly she could make her personal jewelry collection grow. Nevertheless, sometimes her mind would whisper faithlessly that if everything was so fine and dandy, they wouldn’t be at this standstill. They would still be rushing on excitedly, on the move through an enjoyable life of change and discovery together. Well. If nothing else seemed to move fast anymore, at least she could pride herself on the speed and urgency with which she forced herself away from such treacherous thoughts. (Comment on this)
10:11 pm	"Final Silence" - movie canon triple drabble Triple drabble, 300 words. Movie canon. Rating G. Ma Twist's POV. All usual disclaimers apply in full. Warnings: After!Jack, angst. The final silence She stood by Jack’s old desk, looking out the half-open window down the lonely, empty road. The dust was re-settling where the truck had just disappeared from view. There was a new kind of silence to the room. Silence had first taken up residence here when he left to find work, riding the bulls, eventually settling far away in a world she didn’t know. But even if his lengthy physical absences pained her, she found comfort in knowing he was out there, living his life, away from his dad’s oppressive shadow. And he came back to visit, now and then – he wasn’t really gone. The silence occasionally would be broken. When the death message came, a hovering silence of “nevermore” descended on his room, settled like the dust that would soon enough have coated every little object and boyhood memento if she hadn’t so diligently kept it at bay. This heavier silence reverberated with dark notes of grief, though she accepted the Lord’s unfathomable will. Jack’s soul had been taken to heaven, was dwelling safely in a better place. She only prayed they would meet again there on the final day. And as that truck left at last with two old bloodied shirts in a simple paper bag, she knew it was carrying Jack’s heart away with it. Now her boy was completely gone from her. Gone - body, soul and heart. Nothing left except that sad little can destined for their pitiful family plot. For the first time the silence in his room rang truly empty and hollow, those last tender whispers of grace lingering no more in the air. There was no remaining reason now to keep the room for him, to preserve it like it always was for his sake. That was the hardest thing to take. (Comment on this)
10:09 pm	"Just to go home and go to bed" - Brokeback double drabble Double drabble (200 words), Movie canon, Rating G, No warnings, all usual disclaimers apply in full. Just to go home and go to bed They stood side by side in the ladies’, makeup out and at the ready. Powder in hand, Lureen scrutinized her polished veneer for any imperfections. LaShawn expertly applied another layer of lipstick. Their mascara-heavy eyes met in the mirror over the generous counter. “Gosh, you look perfect, Lureen. Beautiful, real classy,” LaShawn flattered sweetly. “I’m sure it’ll work like magic on that handsome husband of yours tonight.” “You think? You look absolutely lovely yourself, dear, so I’m sure you know exactly how that is,” Lureen answered, a tart little sting to her pleasantly polite words. Instinctively LaShawn’s hand adjusted a lock of hair, eyeing it critically in the mirror, her gaze moving on to study Lureen’s blonde mane. "Well, they claim that blondes have more fun, and I bet we both prove that it's very true," LaShawn quipped. Lureen made a sound; half-snort, half-giggle. An unexpectedly honest glance of perfect and pained understanding passed between them, knowingly brimming with disappointed desires. And they burst out laughing. They couldn’t help it. They couldn’t stop. They screamed with laughter. They laughed for long minutes on end. It was the best joke they’d heard all evening, the most fun they had all night. (Comment on this)
10:05 pm	"The Force of Thunder" - movie canon inspired fic with AU/PWP elements Movie canon-inspired oneshot with healthy dollops of tongue-in-cheek AU and PWP mixed in. Ennis's POV. 3,400 words. Rating NC-17. Disclaimers: The Brokeback story and characters do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry, and Focus Features. I make no profit and intend no disrespect, I merely find joy in thinking and writing of Jack and Ennis. A/N: This is my second LoveFest entry. :-) The Force of Thunder It was by far the worst weather they experienced that entire summer. High altitudes be damned, for sure. A roaring wind tore furiously through the camp, bringing first rain, then hail that stung like angry wasps. Spectacular lightning flashed incessantly in the distance, moving closer, the approach heralded by massive and threatening drum rolls of thunder. They did the best they could to salvage their gear and the food in the howling frenzy, and in the middle of it all Ennis struggled with a sense that he was probably abandoning his duties too soon. “Them sheep’ll drift if I don’t git back there tonight,” he roared through the wind. Jack obviously thought he was completely crazy, shaking his head vigorously and pulling him into the tent. “You’ll get pitched off your mount in a storm like this, wish you hadn’t tried it!” he yelled. Just as they were about to close the tent flap up and tie the laces, Ennis stuck his hand back out, collecting some of the falling hail in his hat, marveling at the white onslaught. He picked up one of the hailstones, looking at it in wonder. It was as big as a marble. In no time at all his hat was half-filled with the hard and icy little balls. “Close it up!” Jack hollered. Ennis complied. They looked at each other in the dim interior of their quaking little tent, feeling like bugs shaken by the approaching footsteps of a giant, in danger of being accidentally squashed by a massive foot. The distant thunderclaps boomed, closing in, impressively loud crashing peals of it rolling back and forth between the rocky mountain peaks. Both Jack and Ennis were shivering. When the forces of nature decided to demonstrate their unforgiving powers like this, there was little man or beast could do except take cover and hope for the best. But right now, it seemed all too warranted to fear the worst instead. The tent canvas sagged under another onslaught of white cold bullets, but did not yield. Outside another flash singed the air, a deafening boom resounding through the mountains after a short delay. The storm would soon be directly over their heads. They were both afraid now, an entirely natural and human reaction. Jack felt it the keenest. He remembered last year, the horrible thunderstorm, all those singed and bloated dead sheep, the horrid stench… There was no reassurance that wouldn’t happen again, it could easily enough happen to Ennis and himself. And this oncoming storm seemed to be worse than last year’s. He felt small and insignificant faced with nature’s lethal strength. Another lightning flared through the tent, showing everything in glaring relief. They shivered in tandem, couldn’t help it, and instinctively scooted a few inches closer, huddling together, not the slightest little gap dividing them. Closeness felt comforting. This was not the time to be lone stoic rangers. Ennis was still holding his hat, a weatherworn bowl filled with white marbles. Despite his heart doing flip-flops, despite the shivers coursing through his body, he was still fascinated with the size of those hailstones. He would bet there were hailstones out there, size a coyote balls! Tentatively he picked one up, held it close for inspection, then popped it into his mouth. Winter-cold, it started melting on his tongue much like an ice cube. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Quite nice, in fact. He popped another one in, sucking as it melted, rolling it around in his mouth. And another. His tongue was going cold, then numb. Once more a blinding flash ripped through the tent, nearly blinding them with its intensity, thunder booming above their heads, setting their ears to ringing. The echoes rolled back and forth above their heads, and the wind raged on, screaming through the mountain meadows. Ennis had an idea. Suddenly he felt calmer. He felt cool. He knew what he wanted to do. The two of them couldn’t hope to harness the forces of nature, but his own nature was his to command. They couldn’t control nature’s fury, but perhaps they could manage to ignore it, and in that way make it powerless? What they needed was a sufficiently strong and unusual distraction. And nature had stupidly provided them with the perfect tools. He moved, turning, rising up to straddle Jack’s thighs. In the gloom he could see the whites of Jack’s frantic eyes, growing even bigger with surprise. Ennis knew well enough that Jack wasn’t used to him taking the initiative like this - not face to face. Never face to face, unless Jack undid him first, made him melt bonelessly into his embrace. Well, tonight would be different. The skies were coming down loudly and brightly around their ears. If the world was about to end, even Ennis could abandon his usual restraint. Christ, tonight he was going wild! Uh, well, at least, he was going wilder, his inner voice spoke up in hasty and nervous correction. He placed his unsteady hands on Jack’s shaking shoulders, and leaned in, letting his gaze drop to dwell on the man’s mouth. His man, with lips pale and trembling, so close, so tempting, so fucking sweet….. The kiss was soft, tender, lips barely touching, all caresses, no demands. Ennis pulled back. He couldn’t hear Jack’s small moan through the din of the weather, but he felt is with his whole being even so. True to his plan, he scooped up a few hailstones from his hat, popping them into his mouth. He leaned forward in the gloom, cupped Jack’s face, looked him right in the eye for the briefest of tense moments, then moved on him with purpose and intent. This time there was nothing gentle about it, his lips mashing Jack’s, his cold tongue forcing an entry that was welcomed with equal urgency. Jack’s mouth opened to him, and with one bold sweep Ennis let the remaining clump of rapidly melting hail hit Jack’s tongue. He curled his own, cold and numb, around Jack’s warm and wet, the contrasting sensations of icy cold and furnace hot sending shivers through the both of them as their tongues continued their wet jousting. At length, Ennis pulled free to breathe. He felt lightheaded and dizzy. More than just the thunder was making his ears ring now. Jack grinned at him crazily through the murk. Ennis could feel Jack’s shoulders shake with desire, sensed how rapidly his chest was heaving. His own body was heating up, following suit. This was the exact reaction he was after, and for a much better reason than mere thunder in the mountains! Fuck, he’d heard that sometimes the only thing to do was to fight fire with fire. That was what he was doing. Yep, his plan was working. The wind tore at the tent canvas, rattling the frail structure, the tension on the pegs and restraints growing dangerously strong. There was another bolt of lightning, another thundering crash, rattling the mountains to their roots and reverberating to high heaven. Jack hunched, an instinctively nervous gesture. Ennis shivered. They would soon be in the storm’s very eye. Ennis clenched his teeth in fearful frustration. They needed more distraction. Way more! He didn’t hesitate. He pushed Jack backwards, down on blankets and bedroll, putting a finger over his lips when Jack’s eyebrows lifted to form a question where no voice would be heard. He tried to smile reassuringly, and pushed again, both palms against Jack’s heaving chest, exerting even pressure till Jack was down flat on his back. He tore eagerly at Jack’s shirt, ripping the snaps open, exposing his chest. The hat with the hail he’d collected was right there, at the ready next to his thigh. He realized with surprise that it had to be freezing in the tent, since the hail hadn’t started melting yet. He hadn’t noticed the cold, - he himself had started sweating. And so had Jack, he noticed, as he let his palms slide up and down, up and down, slowly exploring and caressing. Remembering the exhilarating mixture of hot and cold sensations brought on by their kisses, he considered the hat-bowl of hailstones with new interest. Perhaps these cold bullets nature had fired at them could be put to good, proper hot use here on his side of the fight. Curious to see what would happen, he carefully picked up two hailstones, pressing them firmly against Jack’s nipples. The reaction exceeded his wildest expectations. Jack twitched as if he’d been electrocuted, bucking upwards, writhing under Ennis. Ennis studied the tense little brownish nubs with interest and desire. They were visibly growing harder as they grew colder. He did it again, letting a new pair of icy hailstones touch and press, then circling them tantalizingly in slowly widening rounds, finally returning them to base. Drops of melt-water glistened on Jack’s chest, mingling freely with his sweat. Repeating the procedure with more hailstones, Ennis let them orbit and linger, caress and melt, meandering across heated skin, causing Jack to engage in more sensuous writhing-about, new delicious shivers and shudders. Ennis was breathing heavily, sweating excitedly. He was turned on almost as much as Jack was. Once more, here was what happened when cold and hot met. It was wanton and mesmerizing. He couldn’t get enough. He bent forward, touching his thoroughly re-warmed tongue to one stiff little nub, moving on to let it circle in the icy tracks of the melted hail, lapping up the drops, suckling gently, adding a hint of teeth. He felt sure that Jack’s wide open mouth had to be shouting obscenities or pleas, but he couldn’t be sure, for at that moment a blinding light and a deafening crash caught them off guard, making them both jump, rattling the very bones in their bodies. The force of the thunder, the faintly unpleasant smell of a near-by lightning strike, the electricity vibrating through the air ripped them right back to the here and now of the near and present danger. Fuck! Nature’s wrath wasn’t going to let Ennis win without putting up a hell of a battle, that much was clear. Booms rolled and reverberated, causing the mountains to shake and the tent to tremble. Jack was trying to sit up, arms flailing. Ennis almost had to hold him in place, using both hands, pushing him back to make him remain where he was. Ennis set his jaw. He was not giving up the fight for distraction, and there was one as yet untried item in his bag of tricks. He’d managed face to face well enough, it had been delicious. Face to nipple had been a daring novelty that felt equally good. But third time’s the charm… Could he do it? He drew a deep breath, calming himself, shutting out the wailing of the wind, closing his eyes. His palms, placed firmly on Jack’s chest, could feel the heart jumping about in there like a demented rabbit’s, the whole chest undulating with terrified uneven gulps. His own heart skipped every other beat as well. Clearly, this would not do. It was time to pull out all stops. He had never thought himself capable of this. Never. Goddammit, he wasn’t queer, and this would be queer, for real and true. But it would also require all his concentration, every last of his faculties, no place left in his mind for thunderstorm panic. And more importantly, it would serve to distract Jack, one hunderd percent, come hell or high water - if his own recent experiences with Jack’s ministrations were anything to go by. Yes, he’d do it for Jack. At least, he’d give it a try. Decisively he backed off down between Jack’s legs, giving himself space to move. He unbuckled Jack’s belt, yanked Jack’s jeans open and down in a hurry, freeing one eager part of the man that was not hampered by any sense of fear, from the bold and brazen look of it. Fuck, but it looked good. The sight sent licks of delicious fire through Ennis, shivers of lust replacing the previously so terrified ones. He leaned closer, anticipating, studying, planning ahead. He figured it would probably taste vile, he but he luckily knew a remedy for that. Scooping up the last remaining hail pellets from his hat, he stuffed them into his mouth, letting them melt there. Grabbing hold of Jack with his right hand he started a slow but firm slide, up and down, up and down. Better get him as ready as possible before taking the next step. He didn’t think he would be able to keep at that for very long. Jack was reacting to Ennis’s ministrations, shivering deliciously, his thighs tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing in rhythm to Ennis’s strokes. So far, so good. The wind howled and screamed through the trees outside, tugging madly at the tent, roaring wildly as it let go to rush on. The storm was at top force, the next crash of thunder was only heartbeats away. By then Jack had better be floating in another world. The hail in his mouth had melted. Though there hadn’t been enough to make him go numb, he hoped his sense of taste had been sufficiently blunted. It had to be enough. He bent down, his hand going still, holding Jack steady. The smell – he hadn’t planned for the smell! Heavy and musky essence of Jack, mixed with the strong sweat of arousal as well as of fear wafted up into his nose, making him dizzy with want. Nothing or no-one smelled better than Jack, and nowhere was that smell stronger than right here. Ennis inhaled long and lovingly, bending even closer. This was it. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth for a tentative, slow, sensuous lick with his ice-cold tongue. Jack kicked out, his whole body going tense, his hands clapping forcefully onto Ennis’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. Ennis opened his eyes, looked up into Jack’s face, saw his eyes rolling back, his lips moving. It looked as if he was chanting the same words over and over – could even be fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes, Ennis thought optimistically. Clearly, things were going well! He bent back down with determination. He hadn’t tasted a thing, his tongue was too cold. If not for the icy anesthesia of the melted hailstones, he would never have dared this. But too late for doubts now! Ennis bent forward with a gulp. His cold lips met his hand halfway down, then moved back up, icy tongue working overtime across hard hot flesh. Jack was shuddering and shaking against his taste-impaired tongue, warming it up, restoring its full and glorious sensory abilities. Jack’s hands drifted upwards, fingertips touching Ennis’s cheeks, exploring the movement there, then returning to take firm hold of his shoulders again. Jack undulated and bucked, and Ennis held on for dear life, letting hand and mouth work in concert. His jaw was already protesting fiercely, but he hadn’t come this far to stop now. He concentrated with all his might, forgetting everything else than making sure of Jack’s pleasure. Curling his tongue around in new patterns experimentally, he was rewarded by another series of intense shudders. Once more cold and hot had worked together like a charm. By now his tongue had been thoroughly warmed up, and Ennis found that so far, he didn’t mind the taste at all. It was just like Jack’s smell – he figured there could never be enough of either. Never enough. He speeded up, urging Jack towards completion. Jack was writhing under him, getting close, so close…. An immensely bright flash illuminated the tent. The earth shook with the impact of a direct strike as lightning hit one of the tallest pines by the camp-site, causing splintering sounds and crashes loud enough to be heard even over the heart-stopping, never-ending booms of thunder. There was a sudden and strong acrid and burnt smell in the electric air. It was as if their small tent had been placed directly in the middle of an erupting volcano. If not for a more personal but equally intense eruption, both Jack and Ennis would have been terrified beyond words, beyond thoughts, beyond measure. But just then, Jack was utterly lost to the world, his body rigid, eyes unseeing, hands clamping down like vices, his release pulsing strongly into Ennis's mouth. And Ennis was completely focused on one thing only; following through to the bitter end, accepting every last drop that Jack had to give. For a brief moment, nature drew a breath, and there was a lull in the howling wind. Jack relaxed, going limp, the little shivers still coursing through him nothing more than gentle aftershocks, mimicking his recent major quake. As if inspired by their example, the storm outside now rapidly seemed to be running out of speed, moving away, having spent its force on that last final effort to disrupt them. The wind was still moaning, a steady downpour of rain had started, and disgruntled thunder would roll anew in the distance, but the worst - and the best - was clearly past. Ennis knew that it was over. Slowly he let Jack go, his hand and lips lingering for another tender caress or two before letting their prize slip away. He sat back up with a strange sense of accomplishment. Then he grimaced, licking his lips, wiping his hand roughly over his mouth, back and forth. At the finale he had finally discovered something of Jack’s that tasted every bit as terrible as he had feared. Ugh! After his folks were gone, his sis had been thrown headlong into doing their cooking. Her skills were minimal and her execution was worse. Sometimes she would make an incredibly foul watery salted porridge, gooey and full of mysterious little lumps. He and KE would bravely and dutifully force it down, so’s not to disappoint her. Now Ennis felt a sudden burst of immense gratitude for sis and her terrible cooking. If not for that hard-earned experience, he wasn’t sure he could have coped without choking just now. As it was, he’d done good, and he proudly thought Jack would agree. Yep, he’d overcome his inner restraints, fought his own nature - and won, enjoying every victorious second. If this was being queer, then…. Well, huh. He quickly squashed that thought. No need to get philosophical. Jack rose up on his elbows, a slack incredulous smile on his face, his eyes misty in the gloom, his body sprawled limply and langurously. Ennis swiped his hand once more over his mouth, feeling bashful under Jack’s stare. If Jack was at all like himself, then every time he saw Ennis’s mouth from now on, he would think of.… Shit! He felt himself blushing. Better shift that there train of thought onto a safer track, and quickly! “That was a close one, hunh? Think we were lucky to escape with our lives here – got to be the worst one in years!” he shouted, still shuddering a little from the immensely forceful impact. And the lightning strike had made him shake, too. “What?” Jack called back, looking confused. “That lightning strike, friend - the thunder – I think it musta hit right outside a camp, it was that close! We could a been fried and done for!” Jack shook his head, trying to understand. “Lightning strike? You mean - there was a real and for true lightning strike? Right here? Just now? That wasn’t just YOU?” Ennis gaped. His plan had succeeded, beyond his wildest dreams! And he didn’t doubt that from now on, his dreams were going to be much, much wilder. Jack collected his wits and lost his patience before Ennis managed to get over the shock of his revelation. This was no time to sit around meditating on weather, or luck… or other more exciting stuff, either. Action was clearly the order of the day. Jack pounced, shouting with glee. “Payback time, cowboy!” Ennis laughed, relaxing happily into good feelings and lustful anticipation, listening for a moment to the distant thunder, rolling its last among the peaks further off. He yielded willingly, falling back to let Jack do exactly what he pleased. What they both pleased. For sure, this was a force of nature he didn’t mind succumbing to without putting up a fight. (Comment on this)
10:01 pm	From This Day Forward - BBM fic Brokeback fic, ca. 1,200 words, movie canon, Rating G. Warnings: Angst, After!Jack timeline. All the usual disclaimers apply: They're not mine but belong to Proulx, Ossana, McMurtry and Focus Features. I make no profit. From this day forward Alma Junior del Mar looked stunningly beautiful on her big day. Saying as much was no mere conventional phrase, but the simple truth. Standing next to her on the steps of the Riverton Methodist Church, Ennis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had done the right thing – right, not only for her, but for himself. The job he had to quit, the discomfort of his borrowed suit, the unease he felt at having to socialize politely with Alma and Monroe, the strain of having to attend the wedding reception with all those folks he didn’t know – everyone looking with curiosity at the father of the bride - it all seemed insignificant in this instant when his eyes met Junior’s. No matter what, however much he was sweating now, he knew he would have been a goddamn sorry fool to have missed this. He looked Junior over with approving eyes, a small smile of pride and affection crinkling the corners of his weatherworn eyes. She was a lovely bride. Her long hair had been piled high in an elaborately sculpted tower of loose curls, fastened under a white bow with a small veil. She wore too much make-up for his taste, but it looked good on her, and he figured it probably was the way things were done now. The dress had a voluminous skirt that he worried he might accidentally step on – the two Almas, senior and junior, had sewn it together, a labor of many hours’ love. But the main thing, Ennis thought, was that his daughter glowed with happiness. There wasn’t a single sour note in her look of sweet and perfect harmony. She was a young woman with her whole adult life ahead of her, very much in love, about to take her daddy’s arm to walk up the aisle….. because her daddy was actually here on her big day. Yes, he had made the right decision. The organ music inside swelled in intensity, and the doors before them swung open. Junior took his arm, and smiled at him, happily, gratefully, a little nervous tension leaking into her voice. “You ready, daddy?” “Guess it’s really me should be askin’ that”, he grumbled. “But I think I kin see anyhow that you’re OK with this.” She smiled, a quick flash of teeth and eyes. The immediate and easy connection between them warmed his heart. He nodded once, decisively. “Let’s go, darlin’.” She drew a deep breath, and turned to face the aisle, looking ahead, eyes locking onto the spot up there where Kurt was waiting for her. Her look changed. The smile, the eyes, the posture; for a moment all became transformed and suffused with something more, something nameless and indescribable, despite the strong impression it made. Ennis didn’t know what it was called, but he recognized it all right. He’d seen it once before. His heart dropped like a stone, and a disorienting sense of painful déjà vu nearly brought him to his knees. Stunned, he very barely managed to start walking. His mouth had gone dry like sand. He felt like vomiting. It took immense willpower to keep going, slowly and surely, Junior remaining happily oblivious to his distress. Deliberate, stately paces. He didn’t want to spoil her big day, not now, not now – no way. He had to stand this. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet and to keep moving steadily forward, although every wedding guest noticed how very moved the father of the bride was on this happy occasion – his face pale and closed, jaw firmly clenched, and eyes dark with inscrutable emotion. Ennis felt like he’d been suckerpunched. This fine day somehow unexpectedly was getting all mixed up with one of the very worst of his life. Oh yes, he knew where he’d seen that look before - that radiant look of dreams coming true, and wishes fulfilled, and more joy ‘n love ‘n happiness than one single human body and soul could hold without overflowing. It was a strange coincidence and irony of fate, as little time as his girls had spent with him ever since the divorce, that Junior was there last time he saw that look. He'd never asked her if she remembered, but she was there all right….. and now she had the exact same light in her eyes, the same intense joy in her step, the same glow of love, the same weightless air of delight, the same certainty of happiness that Jack Twist once had, getting out of his car at Ennis’s place in Riverton to finally start that sweet life with the man he loved. Helpless grief and guilt were flooding back to him, the haunting memories of those desperate, powerless minutes when he found nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing to somehow work that miracle that Jack had believed in. His face tense and drawn, Ennis left Junior at Kurt’s side and distractedly went to take his place. He watched the young couple standing solemnly before the altar, saw the look they gave each other, two about to become one. His heart clenched. He scowled at Kurt. The young man seemed a nice enough fellah as far as Ennis could tell, solid for his age and obviously smitten with Junior. But so much could happen in a long life, in a marriage of many days and nights. Kurt had it in his power to quench the bright light of Junior’s happiness. And this time, there was nothing Ennis could do about it. This time he’d have to watch from the sidelines, wishing for the best, hoping this here husband of Junior’s was not ever going to crush her joy the way he’d shot down Jack’s. It probably was just as well he held no power here, Ennis thought bleakly. His was no example to follow - he had extinguished that look of radiance in another human being. Likely he deserved nothing more than to be a powerless spectator now. Perhaps it was for the best. He sighed, once more seeing Jack’s happiness fall apart, seeing those hurt and incredulous eyes, the way he’d already replayed that moment a thousand painful times in his mind. Kurt had better watch out – if he ever aimed to break Junior’s heart like that, her daddy would have a thing or two to say. Ennis wasn’t ever going to just watch it happen without a word, not again, not on his fucking life. He would at least speak up. Do something. But apart from that… He bent his head, listening to his daughter’s marriage vows, sending up a silent small prayer, humbly asking for her love and happiness to be honored, preserved and protected. That was all he could do, and he owed as much to her. He owed it to himself. He owed it to Jack. “I now pronounce you husband and wife”. He closed his eyes. Whatever was, whatever might later be - at least his daughter was allowed to have that. (Comment on this)
10:00 pm	The Mirror Crack'd - BBM triple drabble BBM triple drabble (tribble! - 300 words), movie canon clearly featuring AU!-philosophy from Ennis, Rating an R ( I think), All the usual disclaimers apply. NB: This is a direct mini-sequel to "Through a Glass, Brightly" so read that one first! :-) The Mirror Crack'd They made a valiant effort to hold still, but willpower only goes so far. By the time Ennis let go - his seed splashing into the water with a gentle, nearly noiseless sound - their mirror was already clouded and opaque. Soap suds drifted around them, and hectic ripples from rhythmic movements broke the many-faceted surface as the need of their bodies took precedence. Ennis stood for a moment, collecting his wits, feeling Jack hard and pushing up against him. Feeling Jack shivering violently against him, too. Yeah, there was more to be done here, but damn if he wanted to do more here. He shuddered. Too cold, no way! Jack’s hands had been shaking there at the end, weird but good, like he’d mistaken Ennis’s dick for some big slick old rattle. Yep, he was leaving, but his numb feet were not easily getting back into the movement game, and slipped on the pebbled lake bottom. He went down with a whoa! and a mighty splash, arms flailing, throwing water everywhere. Breathing fast, eyes hungry under the hat-brim, Jack backed off to avoid the surprise fountain. “Hey, wa-watch it, bud, you’re bre-breakin’ our mir-mirror,” he forced out between chattering teeth. Ennis rose to the surface like a creature of the deep, angrily got back on his feet, gave his head a shake to send droplets flying, retrieved his hat, and started wading forcefully back to shore. Spurting his favorite curses, he stepped shivering out of the water. “Jack, this goddamn mirror of yours was fine for a while, not sayin’ otherwise, but I ain’t no goddamn polar bear. If you cain’t stand it, you may as well smash it to pieces and start all over. Let’s fix ourselves a clean slate here on dry land and take it from there, huhn?” (Comment on this)
9:40 pm	Reply - BBM drabble Drabble (100 words), Movie canon, Jack's POV, no warnings, rated G. Usual disclaimers apply in full. Reply Deep breath. Deep breath. Another deep breath. He sat down in the hallway chair, mind spinning dizzily, heart going a mile a minute. Had he just made that strange half-strangled sound? He probably had. Just breathe, he admonished himself once more. Lureen’s voice from the living room, - fatigued, surprised, a hint of annoyance: “Honey, what’s the matter? You not coming in here? Everythin’ OK?” Another deep breath. He looked at the simple postcard his eager hand had just snatched from among the mail, read its words out loud in reply. To her, to himself, to high heaven: “You bet.” (Comment on this)
9:37 pm	Through a Glass, Brightly - BBM fic Brokeback fic (ca 1,600 words), movie canon romance, rating a mild R. Disclaimer: They belong to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features, and I am not profiting in any way from this, except that I find enjoyment in thinking and writing of them. A/N: This was written as a response to Sienna and Lola's love fest challenge. Since I have a thing for fic smex involving mirrors I tried to figure how that could be realistically incorporated in a canon fic. :-) However, turned out that the guys first wanted to share a force of nature moment, so the fic ends just as the action really gets going. I enjoyed writing this one though, and I hope it shows. Through a Glass, Brightly It was probably the most perfect day of that entire summer, high altitudes be damned. Bright sunshine, the air mild and kind as kisses, not even the smallest whisper of wind, and a sky so blue you could drown in eternity, just looking up. Around midday Jack packed a couple of beers, some hard bread and dried meat, added a soap to his bundle, and rode up to the mountain pastures. All was so right with his world this day that even his unpredictably skittish mare behaved herself, pacing smoothly and giving him no trouble as the two of them ascended towards the high meadows, their route bordered by dense high grasses and mountain flowers – sweet fresh fragrances, a rainbow specter of colors. Nestled in a dell between the peaks near the upper pastures there was a small melt-water lake, draining into one of the narrow streams that would gain more speed and strength further down, rushing away off the mountain. Jack had his sights and plans firmly set on that lake - the destination for this trek towards the top of the world. Once there he discovered with a jolt of joy that – not for the first time - he and Ennis had been of like mind. Ennis was already sitting by the lake, chin in hand, shaded face drowsy and pensive, body relaxed in the midday sun. No sound broke the silence of the still mountain air except for the ever-present distant bleating, but by now both men were so used to it, the sound did not register with them. Nothing marred the view of the little lake, nestled in green and surrounded by tall snow-peaked mountains – the tranquil water presenting a perfectly mirrored image of its beautiful surroundings to the gratefully sunny sky. They shared kisses, a relaxed meal. Then more kisses, growing urgent, before Jack, twisting aside and sitting up, playfully brandished the soap. “That lake’s too good to waste on a day like this, friend. Let’s git to it, I say.” Ennis felt so mellow, he didn’t want to be objectin’ – would be way too much of a hassle. Still, he didn’t want to quit what they were doin’ either – at least not to have ice cold water freeze his balls off and shrivel up his dick just when it was growin' strong and plump and excited. “Shit, that’s melt water, it's freezin’ cold, you know. Thought you would run a mile from that.” “Yep, any other day than today I would. Anyhow, who’s sayin’ I hafta go far and deep in the water? Plannin’ on dippin’ my toes, perhaps that’s all.” Jack grinned big and Ennis gave him a look, felt that the only thing to do was to shut Jack up, make him forget this sudden stupid lake obsession – best way would be to move real quick from their slow sweet kisses and on to more serious business. He wasted no time letting action follow thought, pushing Jack down on the grass, his mouth diving for Jack’s, hands diving for other parts of special interest on the man. Jack laughed freely, jabbing him with an elbow, rolling out of his grip, scrabbling on all fours to get away. Once out of reach he got up, jumping on one foot, pulled a boot off, then the other, letting his jeans and shirt and underwear follow in very short order. Ennis looked on in mute frustration, feeling horny and annoyed and ready for about anything else than a fuckin’ freezin’ bath. That feeling just increased once Jack was standing by the water’s edge without a stitch on his body, his profile as he turned back to speak proving that he had been far from indifferent to Ennis’s ministrations. Ennis groaned, and Jack swore at him happily. “Christ, will you just come on? Look at all this – tell you what, it’s too good to waste. And why d’you think I brought the soap anyhow? We kin get cleaned up, go at it, and then we kin get cleaned up again.” He turned towards the lake, teasing Ennis with a perfect pale lean butt view, and stuck a toe tentatively in the water. A small quiver ran through his entire body, shivering like a horse does when a hand touches its flank unexpectedly. He remained there until Ennis came to stand next to him, clothes and boots discarded in defeat. “Gonna git us sunburned for sure, hell to pay,” he groused. “Aw, better not hang around jabberin’ on about it then, git to it.” "Son of a bitch," Ennis grumbled. The water proved every bit as cold as he had imagined. The butt-clenchin’, ball-shrivellin’, mind-numbin’, heart-stoppin' kind a cold. He’d not to this for anyone else than Jack. Not sure he wanted to do it even for Jack. “Well, tough guy, “ Jack said, poking him in the side. “You’re so hardy and strong, you just wade in there and show me the way.” Christ. Fuck. Well, alright. Ennis didn’t spend useless time arguin’, just drew a deep breath - ready to rush ahead and throw himself in full throttle, get it over with, hurry the hell back out, get on with better things to get warmed up again. “No”. Jack laid a hand on his arm, looked at him with those sky-colored eyes of his, eyes suddenly turned quiet depths of still waters, his voice changed into a soft slow caress. “Not like that, Ennis. Don’t rush it, just let’s wade out there a little bit…. Not too deep…Just a few steps.” Lookin’ into those eyes, readin’ some truth or puzzle there that made him shiver with something else than cold, Ennis frowned and did as told. Slowly he took one step out into the water, then another one, and a couple more. The water lapped his calves, reached his knees, crept halfway up his chill thighs. “Stop”, Jack said. He was quietly wading in behind Ennis, soap in hand, closing the gap between them until he was standing so near, his chest was a mere whisper away from touching Ennis’s back. “My feet are gettin’ numb,” Ennis mumbled. “Oh, hush up with you. You kin take it. Just… stand here. Be still. Just… let’s be.” Leaning in, Jack closed the gap between them, embracing Ennis loosely around the waist, placing his chin on Ennis’s shoulder, a small sigh escaping his lips. They held still, silently letting the gentle ripples - created when they waded out into the lake - settle down, the lake surface once more turning tranquil, blank and bright as newly polished glass. “Look” Jack murmured into Ennis's ear. “Look a that. What I thought… See? We’re standin’ right smack in the middle of a mirror.” Ennis saw. Head ducking once in an abrupt nod, a breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t speak, but reached back, his arms firmly surrounding and clasping Jack’s haunches, in a strangely reversed imitation of Jack’s embrace. Neither of them moved nor spoke again for a long, entranced moment. They stood spellbound in their silent embrace, marveling at the image in the sun-sparkling mirror. Two young strong naked bodies in perfect harmony, close as one. Skin on skin, breath on breath, encircling arms. A beautiful and spare Eden surrounding them, everything as naked and genuine as they themselves – no distractions, no subterfuges. Nothing but bare craggy rocks, crystal water, sweet green grasses and the frank open sky above. The lake’s cold bright mirror showed the image of man as a part of nature, as perfect and pure and essential as intended at the dawn of time. No distortion marred that clear image, no false note jarred the simple beauty, no disconcerting doubt encroached on the joy of that moment. It was simple, natural, and right. “Just be still now,” Jack whispered, placing a kiss like the ghost of a breath on Ennis’s shoulder, his arms holding on tighter, Ennis’s arms firm as they responded in kind. They stood transfixed - a moment stolen from time and given to eternity. --- At last, when he couldn’t feel his feet anymore, Jack reluctantly decided to return them to reality. Letting his free hand drift from its waist-encircling resting place, touching warm skin all the way on its slow sure descent, he breathed laughter into Ennis’s ear. “You ever wonder what the back a your dick look like? ‘Cause you know in this big mirror we’re standing in you have a real good chance a finding out. Kin see a lot – a lot – if’n you manage to stand very still. If you don't move. Not a twitch. Even if’n I… do this. And... this. You up for that? I dare ya….” Ennis grunted, his focus firmly readjusted, back to earth with a jolt and a vengeance. Another of those shivers not due to cold rippled through his shoulders, sparks were shooting up his spine, but his feet remained firm, unmoving. He looked down, studied Jack’s hand on him, - saw beyond that the slightly translucent mirror image of the two of them. Could see clearly what mirror Jack was doing, and how his own mirror body was reacting, could see all of it both from above and below. A hot flush scalded Ennis's face, mocking the icy cold from the lake. He drew a shuddering breath through clenched teeth. “Fuck… you do your damnedest, Twist,” he exhaled, forcing himself to speak at all. “Bet ya I kin stand it as long as you kin, and then some”. Jack snorted a throaty little laugh at him. “Even if’n I use the soap?” Ennis groaned. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (Comment on this)
9:35 pm	Accidentally - Brokeback triple drabble Brokeback ficlet, (a tribble? - 300 words), Rating G, Jack's POV, the usual disclaimers apply in full. Accidentally Jack was getting properly settled on his bull, so he missed seeing what actually happened. But he sure heard the shouts, saw the frantic activity – hectic clowns, the wild bull, men rushin’ to the aid of a limp body lyin’ motionless on the ground. There was a delay before the unconscious rider was carried off, makin’ way for Jack. His bull was antsy bordering on vicious and he himself not sufficiently in the game. Thrown after just a few seconds, for once he didn’t much care - shaken by the accident, wonderin’ how bad it would prove to be. Didn’t know the man well, but he’d seen him round the circuit, exchanged words now and then. Nice enough guy. The quiet sort. When the news came, he felt empty and cold. The rodeoin’ seemed pointless all of a sudden. Here he was, injured several times, riskin’ his life for pittances, provin’ himself to a bastard who’d never once seen him ride and wasn’t ever likely to, anyhow. This was the last straw. Enough was enough. He should just get out while he still could walk. And breathe. While he was packin’ up, ponderin’ his meager options, a cowboy came by, passin’ the hat around, funeral contributions. Jack was nearly down to his last dimes, hardly had enough cash to keep the truck on the road. He was ashamed of how little he donated. That’s how come, when word spread that next time they’d be ridin’ in honor of the passed man, he decided to stay on for one more. Yeah, he could always ride a final time, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. But that was it. He was adamant, his mind made up. No more, no way. That next one, in Childress, would be his very last rodeo. (Comment on this)
9:32 pm	Affordable Risk - BBM double drabble Another Brokeback double drabble (200 words - a droubble!), movie canon, Jack's POV, Rated G, the standard disclaimers apply. A/N: Found inspiration for this when I stumbled across the following link to images/clips of bullriding accidents. Especially the clip at 2:30 horrified me. Realizing that Jack risked this, over and again, - but still held back from doing other things, set me to thinking. Affordable risk Every time his bull hurtled out of the chute Jack had risked his life. He'd done so willingly, though, despite having seen up close more than once how being stomped on could maim a body. The sheer exhilarating, terrifying rush of those few seconds when everything was left to fate and chance and his own combined skill and luck made it worthwhile. His life and limbs up against a bull-rider’s fame, some dollars and a buckle, yeah, that was an acceptable risk. But when it later came to making the single biggest bet of his life in that boundless game of fortune where the prize was a sweet life with Ennis, Jack hesitated, doubted and held back. He thought it through, over and again, weighing the odds, estimating the outcome. To present Ennis with an ultimatum: All, or nothing at all? A “yes” to Jack would gain him his life’s desire…. Yet the stakes were dauntingly high. A final “no” would stomp his love into the dust, destroy his every hope. A bull might have trampled his body, but Ennis held the power to crush his very heart and soul. Jack found he just wasn’t that much of a gambler. (Comment on this)
9:29 pm	The Gift - 2nd part (Second part of "The Gift". For further details, disclaimers and A/Ns see part 1.) --- Four days later, on the long drive back from Lightning Flat to Childress, Jack stopped halfway through Colorado to get himself a meal and a drink. His back was complaining something fierce. These long hauls were killing him, his back hurting, his heart hurting - feeling so low again once they’d said their familiar goodbyes for many months to come - his head hurting too, patience worn paper thin after visiting with his folks. His dad did that to him every time. He needed air. He was walking up and down a main street hardly worthy of the name, stretching his legs and breathing deep, when a sudden flash of crimson caught his attention. Slanting afternoon sun was reflecting off a heart-shaped pendant in the single window of a tiny jewelry shop. Its silver sparkling, crimson enamel polished and ready for Valentine’s Day, the heart still remained orphaned and homeless these several weeks later. Drawn towards it against his will, Jack stepped up to the window, stared at the blushing silver trinket. Memories crowded and mingled in his brain. The crimson paper heart Ennis had shown him, the cheerful red of Lureen’s shirt and hat, lips and cheeks the day they met, her sparkling eyes and bright smile flashing, heart’s blood, family ties, fiery hopes, a heart shape tattooed on the ground, a red hat tumbling after…. Suddenly and inexplicably he felt at peace with his life, resentment and impatience giving way to a strange sense of belonging. Whatever the present held, whatever slow future would eventually bring, however long it would take to get there - in this moment everything connected in his mind, the disjointed disparate parts of his world fusing to one whole: One life, and well worth living. He opened the shop door and went inside. Lureeen She looked up at the clock on the wall, sighed, tapped the ash off her cigarette, and bent back determinedly to her columns of tiny numbers. She had started working part time at the dealership last year, told Jack she had to have something to do, was going crazy staying at home all the time with Bobby. She sometimes brought paperwork back to go over in the evenings, already closely invested in the dealership finances. Besides, it gave her something solid and constant to focus her mind and intelligence on. She missed Jack when he went home to see his folks, or on one of those Wyoming fishing trips. Tapping her fingers restlessly on the desk, perfect nails clicking loudly in the silent room, she was fighting a sense of unease and muted sadness that had something to do with Jack, but which she chose not to dwell on nor examine. She was never one for dwelling on emotions and pondering personal issues. She prided herself on being way too sassy and take-charge and plain practical for any of that. Moping and pining and dwelling on what-ifs were not her things, full stop. There it finally was; - the sound of a car outside, slowing down, then headlights sweeping brightly through the window, illuminating the wall beside her for an instant. Jack was home. Quickly collecting her papers into a neat stack, marking the last column she’d checked, she rose and walked to the front door. She could hear noises from the garage. He was probably getting his gear out of the car. Couldn’t he do that tomorrow? Was that really the most important thing right now? She frowned, sudden exasperation bubbling to the surface after her long wait. Just as she felt the sting of a sharp comment forming on her tongue, his key rattled in the door lock. The noise broke her bad mood like a spell, tartness dissolving into mellow and sweet. Their embrace was gentle, comfortable, but too quickly done. None of the passionate urgency she was sure she remembered being there in their early days. She did try to not let herself miss it, telling herself what they had now was just as suitable for modern married life. Yet…. She bit her lip, a sliver of annoyed creeping back, confusing her sense of happy relief. He looked beat, dark shadows below his eyes. For all his taking time off to go fishing, he surely didn’t look very rested. But he smiled at her now, those huge tired blue eyes meeting hers and restoring to her a sense that things were back to right in her world. “It’s good to be home, Lu. Everything OK? And with Bobby? Got a little thing for you, honey…..” Searching his pockets, he found a pretty little box and handed it to her. She made short shrift of the encircling ribbons, and stared in surprise at her gift of a beautiful red heart pendant. “It reminds me of the day we met,” he explained quietly. It reassured and delighted her, unexpected proof that he cared for her just as much as ever. This gift spoke of affection and understanding, convincing her they shared the same priorities after all, hinting at that elusive ardour of their early days that she had secretly feared to be gone forever. It was a darling, perfect thing, and she beamingly told him as much while eagerly fastening the thin silver chain around her own neck. A happy glow radiated through her from where the bright enameled heart rested on her skin. She moved to embrace him, closing in for those deep, sweet, lingering kisses that had become so rare, too rare. But he only leaned forward to briefly kiss her cheek, nuzzling against her ear for a moment. Then he withdrew again and sighed tiredly. “Honey, I’m beat, I’m dead on my feet. It’s been a hell of a long drive, with this weather and all. I have to go sleep before I fall down where I stand.” Her tiny flash of renewed disappointment came and went in a heartbeat. She smiled contentedly, her hand seeking out the little red heart. Even if nothing but sleep was on the menu for tonight, she wanted him close, so close, now that he had finally returned to her. To them. “Sure enough. You go get comfortable and get some rest, honey, you’ve had a long and tiresome day,” she replied, accompanying him through the hallway door. “I’m gonna look in on Bobby real quick, then I’m coming to bed too. My paperwork sure ain’t going anywhere.” Bobby Bobby was sleeping fitfully, a slightly troubled frown on his face, his hands resting on either side of his head, fingers curled into angry-looking little fists. He didn’t feel the first soft kiss his mother pressed on his forehead, nor the second, but some sixth sense nevertheless woke him up, eyes blinking in the dim room. His unfocused gaze immediately caught on the red shiny heart dangling right in front of him from Lureen’s neck - she was leaning over his bed. Instinctively he lifted a small drowsy hand to catch and hold on to the enticingly swinging bauble, glittering with reflected light from the lamp in the hallway. Intercepting his move, Lureen gently took his hand and placed a loving kiss on it, squeezing his fingers and smiling down at him tenderly. Too often she had little patience for her son, but the relief and satisfaction she felt just now were more than wide enough to comfortably encompass Bobby. “Sleep, love. Everything’s alright and daddy’s come back home. Mommy and daddy are here, right outside. You just sleep now.” She bent down over him and kissed his bed-warm brow. "Good night." Bobby’s lips curled softly upwards in a perfect and tranquil little smile. His hand relaxed back on the pillow, open to the night. His eyes closed, and he slept. (Comment on this)
9:25 pm	The Gift - Brokeback fic in 6 stages/2 parts Brokeback fic, one-shot (ca. 3,800 words), movie canon, multiple POVs, rating G, no specific warnings. Disclaimer: They do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features, and I certainly do not profit from writing this, excpet for the joy I find in thinking and writing of Jack and Ennis. A/N: I was going for something a little more upbeat after the sadness and pain that understandably characterize many recent fics, but this turned more melancholy-filled than intended. Nevertheless, it springs from the realization that there is more than one kind of love, but all kinds can warm a heart - and there are loving joyful moments to be found for us all, be they ever so fleeting or even based on misunderstandings, and be our lives otherwise ever so difficult. And when those special moments appear, living in the here and now is all that anyone can do. The plot is to some certain degree inspired by the movie "Pay it Forward". And the last sentence ows an obvious debt to the similar tranquility of the last sentence in Steinbeck's novel "East of Eden". The fic takes place in the late winter/early spring of 1970, and has been split into two journal entries due to length. The Gift Alma Junior was sitting at the kitchen table, making another drawing. She’d had a box of crayons as a gift for Christmas, and her favorite color ones had already been reduced to mere stubs. Deeply absorbed, she was lost to the world, pink tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she applied another thick layer of brown to what had to be a horse… or a bear… or perhaps a dog. Alma shook her head to clear her mind. Despite it all, she had to smile fondly at the sight of her creative little girl. She’d just turned from staring blankly out of the window, her mood melancholy and somber, thinking – or trying not to think - of the upcoming Valentine’s day and whether or not he’d remember it. A little gift, some flowers….? But mostly she was trying hard not to think about what his feelings for her were, and what their marriage meant to him, trying desperately not to make sense of that mind-numbing, inexplicable sight of the kisses and intimate caresses he’d shared with that fishing buddy of his who appeared out of nowhere nearly 3 years ago. That moment and the following days had sent everything spinning, made her doubt everything, turned her marriage into an enigma too confusing for her to wreck her mind over. A mystery that kept renewing itself with every unsettling new postcard arriving from Jack Twist. As usual, she tried very hard to think of something else. She went over to look at Junior’s drawing, smiling down at her daughter’s light brown unruly hair. Alma truly cherished her little girls, and wouldn’t have minded more kids, if only… Junior was so cute with all her intensely focused energy, Alma felt her heart welling with the summer-bright glow of pure, undeniable, simple and straight-forward love. The warm surge of affection made it impossible for her to hold still, she had to sweep Junior up half-way from her chair and squeeze the child, press her daughter to her heart in a strong happy hug. Junior was not too big yet to protest being cuddled, she delighted in being kissed, but soon started squirming to get back to her business. “Mommy, see, do you like my cow? What should I draw next?” The answer came immediately to Alma, born of her troubled thoughts the moment before and the uncompromising love that was just now warming her heart and her cheeks: “Why don’t you draw a big and real pretty heart for daddy, honey? Tomorrow is a special day, you know, Valentine’s day, when you must show the ones you love how much you care. She hugged Junior again, kissed the tip of her nose and the top of her head. “And I love you, sweetie, I’ll tell you just how much, not only tomorrow, but every day, and for free! Mmmm-mmm!” Junior kept grinning long after she was firmly back on her chair. Alma turned to start cooking dinner. She was too late, had squandered time idling about lost in heavy thoughts, brought on by the postcard that just came in the mail. But the world never stopped turning, Ennis would be home soon, and Jenny would wake from her nap any minute. Alma turned the faucet with a decisive grip. The glow of minutes before had already dimmed somewhat in the grey afternoon light of reality’s obligations, its remnants of brightness and warmth draining out of her as surely as the tepid tap water now was draining out of the kitchen sink, - swirling for a moment, then soon enough gone from sight. But not lost. Junior Junior liked mommy’s idea. Liked it a lot. Something special for daddy. She had seen the pretty red and pink and frilly hearts in the shops, the cards on display, she know just how they were supposed to look. Aglow with purpose, on a mission now, she carefully selected the crimson crayon, turned a page in her drawing book and studied the white page critically. A big, red, happy heart. A right and proper love-you-lots-and-lots heart. Squinting with concentration, she set to work. Ennis Ennis was up at half past five the next morning. It was a long drive to the ranch, and he would be long gone by the time the rest of his little family was getting out of bed. Fixing himself breakfast in comfortable solitude under the bleak glare of the kitchen lamp, he was surprised to hear movement in the living room. That soft rapid-fire patter of feet – it had to be Junior. Tousled hair and face mussed from sleep, she sprinted into the kitchen and stopped short. “Daddy, happy Allatime, got something for you cause I love you!” She exhaled in a confusing sleep-muddled rush, excitedly jumbling it all together. “Darlin’, you up this early, hunh? What’s that you say? Standing in front of him, wearing her rumpled flannel winter nightgown, her bare feet skipping on the cold floor, she held both hands firmly hidden behind her back. Suddenly bashful, she squirmed and made a face, wrinkling her nose and looking at him sideways through downcast lashes. “Happy Allatime!” she repeated, and with a sudden flourish held out her hands to him, displaying the object she’d been hiding, the gift she’d prepared. A big red paper heart. “It’s ‘cause I love you, daddy. And I wanna tell you that…. So I made it… for you.” Now he understood. Valentine’s Day – he’d forgotten about that, he realized with a pang of bad conscience. Shit! He looked at the paper heart, its uneven scissor-cut edges, its crimson coating glistening in the lamp light. Carefully studying the two black stick figures in the middle - one little, one large – he felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat. “C’mere, darlin’. You my very own Valentine girl today? Daddy’s gonna show you how much he loves you back. You ready for a real huge, big bear hug?” Junior squealed with delight. Jack “Gave me a big, red, heart for Valentine’s day. Had made it on her own. Cut it out herself. Always doin’ things with her hands, drawin’ an’ such.” Ennis reached for the wallet in his jacket pocket. He opened it and took something out. Red paper. Carefully unfolding it, he looked down on what had to be his daughter’s Valentine’s card for him, balanced on the palm of his hand. “Handed it to me real serious like kids can be sometimes, you know, and then she even said, well – little darlin’ sure can be silly, hunh? Said she loves me an’ she wants to marry me when she grows up.” Tell her to get in line, Jack thought morosely, eyeing Ennis’s shy ghost of a genuinely happy smile. But he grinned on cue, laughed a little and came up with some sort of response. “Yeah, kids can be surprisin’, sometimes,” he offered. “Sounds like she’s a true and for real daddy’s girl alright.” They were sitting side by side on a log by the fire, had finished up eating and were passing the last of the whiskey back and forth. Jack was shuddering a bit in the friggin’ freezing night air, feeling the dull cold ache of departure settling over him, but Ennis as was his usual seemed oblivious to the mountain chill. It was the last night of their week together. The mood was heavy, their imminent parting weighing them down, though both tried their best not to show it. They’d been talking some about their jobs and their lives, as if to ease tomorrow’s transition back to bleak everyday existence - speaking slowly, carefully, with big silences in between. Ennis didn’t mention Alma much at all, but he did talk about his girls. It was so painfully obvious that he loved them, that he was proud of them and their little achievements. When Ennis brought up his eldest daughter’s sweet Valentine declaration Jack had long since started to feel the sharp pangs that unhappy thoughts of their continuing separate lives always brought. “Uhhm, well…” Ennis muttered, squirming a little bit before pulling on the bottle and sending Jack a quick silent look under his hat brim, before looking away. “Mmm,” he exhaled as he lowered the bottle. Jack had been carefully re-learning Ennis’s signals during their meet-ups these last couple of years. He could read a sign or two between the lines of Ennis’s gruff unease. “Something more on your mind here, friend? Ennis held the bottle out to him, then meticulously placed the paper heart to the side, lit up a smoke, and grabbed hold of the stick he kept near by. He started poking it into the ground as if he was planning to dig himself a hole to hide in. “Christ, Ennis… it’s me. What’s up? Come on.” Dropping the stick as if burned by it, Ennis picked up the red paper heart, held it out to Jack without a word, for the briefest of moments looking directly into his eyes, then averting his gaze. Jack studied the crayon-colored piece of paper. Crimson, its color nearly that of dried blood in the flickering campfire light. The heart was frayed at the edges, worn and torn from being handled, from lying folded and pressed in the battered old wallet. The two black stick figures drawn in the middle, one big, one smaller, had been smudged and looked as if they were dissolving, merging into the thick blood-colored layers. Jack didn’t want this, didn’t need Ennis to make a point about how much his girls meant to him, how much he was bound to stay in Riverton, a proper husband and father for all to see. He needed no reminders of what that heart meant to Ennis – the family life that held him back with ties of blood and love and duty, chains of fear and that dark desperate desire to be ordinary. Normal. Just an average hard-workin guy with little wife and kids and cute home-made Valentine hearts stuck to the fridge and hanging from the ceiling. The tattered, bruised heart in his hand suddenly seemed a painfully accurate image of jack’s own. He stared at it, lost for words, turning it between his fingers in the firelight, tracing the biggest of the two shapes with his index finger. Way to show me there’s still no way, way to rub my nose in all that domestic bliss he insists we can never have…. Ennis was staring at him questioningly now, almost pleadingly, wanting so badly for Jack to understand his meaning without him having to spell it out, then resumed poking desperately at the ground with his stick, jabbing at the hard surface, intensely focused on this nonsensical task. Jack shook his tired uncomprehending head, feeling sad, exasperated, heartshot, subdued. For a moment the bright hopes he always held his inner eye firmly fixed on, flickered and threatened to wink out. “That’s….. somethin’, friend,” he whispered thickly. “Yeah, it’s sweet.” The silence that settled between them was filled with so much left unsaid; - hopes, regret, longing, denials and despair. The air was thick with it, making it hard to breathe, hushing them up, - no more words spoken. Ennis shook himself as if waking from an unpleasant dream. “Well, I’m turning’ in, I s’pose,” he mumbled, abruptly rising to throw his stick into the darkness beyond their camp. He reached out to take the paper heart back from Jack’s hand, carefully refolding it, keeping his eyes dejectedly on his task this time, never for a second meeting Jack’s gaze. “Just gonna go check on the horses first, take a piss. Where’s the damn flashlight? Won’t be long.” “Well OK, sure,” Jack forced out of his tight throat, his words chasing Ennis’s retreating back. “Sure enough. I’ll turn in too. It’s damn cold out here. Better get the tent warmed up good for you,” he ended in a lame attempt at innuendo that fell flat on the ground in front of his feet. Ennis didn’t respond. Hunched and silent, he just walked on, disappearing out of the circle of light. Only the glowing pinprick of his smoke remained visible. There was a faint whicker from one of the horses. Jack drained the bottle and got up, his joints creaking and complaining. On cold nights like this every one of his rodeo injuries were competing to remind him of their existence. He stretched his back and drew a deep breath, muttering disgustedly, furious with himself for feeling so low. This is the way it is, and you know it. He needs more time, there’s nothing to do but let him have it. “Damn. Well alright then…. ” One step towards the tent, and he stopped short, staring at the ground where Ennis had been sitting. A distinct and recognizable shape had been carved into the soil. The lines formed a heart; slightly lopsided, but clearly recognizable, slashed deeply into the ground. Its edges were accented by flickering shadows, firelight outlining the muddy trenches and earthen bastions that protected and encompassed the embattled heart’s core within. An illuminating flash of sudden understanding coiled its way through Jack at the speed of lightning. He stood transfixed with sudden glorious insight, intense joy curling flames of fire around his speeding heart. Sometimes he feared that Ennis would never yield, that he would continue to insist this hopeless situation was all there could ever be, that he would never bring himself to speaking the “yes” that Jack longed for and lived every day for. Those unspoken words between them, relentless time passing while they seemed to be getting nowhere…. Jack had fought off occasional doubts and despair, though he admonished himself to stay strong. And now - this! He didn’t pause to ponder whether his stoic gruff cowboy would consciously make use of such decidedly uncharacteristic sweet and romantic signs and shapes to be read where his words failed him. He didn’t consider the possibility that Ennis incidentally and nervously had happened to imitate the shape of his daughter’s gift that he’d been displaying so proudly and lovingly. He didn’t see that Ennis’s discomfort, his silences and actions alike, carried a dual message - could be read as “I can’t, please understand” – or equally as “I will, I do, just give me time”. Jack had needed to know, had needed his hopes stoked, needed a sign with every fibre of his being, heart and soul. Now he knew. No more doubts – all Ennis required was more time. This simple shape, cut into the soil before their fire, was the farthest they’d ever gotten, Jack realized with elation. Ennis might not be comfortable saying the words out loud, but he had managed to get his point across. There are other ways than speaking up in order to show someone your intentions and what you truly feel. Settling himself in his bedroll, waiting impatiently, expectantly, jubilantly, Jack vowed to show Ennis as many of those ways as humanly possible during their last night out here in the middle of nowhere. (Comment on this)
9:24 pm	Characteristics - BBM drabble and a half Brokeback drabble-and-a-half (150 words), Jack's POV, movie canon, rated G, usual disclaimers apply in full. Characteristics Bears growled threateningly if surprised. Coyotes warily kept their distance, alert, biding their time, striking unexpectedly like lightning. The elks were solidly majestic, but elusive. Hunting one down was a tiresome task. The dumbass mules were stubborn and recalcitrant as all hell. The sheep would inexplicably take off, too-easily spooked. His horse was unpredictable with a damnably low startle point. Their reliable dogs; - hard-working and eager to please. He loved them and they responded in kind, searching him out for secret treats and cuddles, not usually allowed for working dogs. When remembering their distant Brokeback summer, Jack would later shake his head in fond but weary exasperation. On that mountain, with its many creatures great and small, there still was no goddamn single being with a presence half as ornery, infuriating, stubborn, skittish, shy, unreadable, abrupt, taciturn, trustworthy, surprisingly tender, loving and lovable as that of Ennis del Mar. (Comment on this)
9:23 pm	Lullaby - Brokeback drabble A Brokeback lullaby, which happens to be a drabble (100 words). This is a lullaby that I imagine Ennis humming and improvising to baby Junior in his arms, - rocking and calming the little girl while his wife is getting some hours' exhausted sleep. Past and present, memories and daydreams are blending in his tired mind as he sings. Movie canon, Rated G, usual disclaimers apply in full. Lullaby Hush, lil’ darlin’, don’t you cry Daddy has a bluebird sings your lullaby. If that bird quits and won’t sing, Daddy’s gonna show you a mountain spring. If that mountain spring’s too cold Daddy’s gonna carve you a horse to hold If that horse is lost too soon, Daddy’s gonna rock you by the big full moon If that moon don’t always shine, Daddy’s gonna whisper: Are you still mine? If you tell him “yes”, he will Give you every sheep in those far green hills If all green hills tumble down, You'll still be the sweetest babe I've known. (Comment on this)
9:22 pm	Temporary - BBM double drabble Brokeback double drabble (200 words), movie canon, rated G, usual disclaimers apply. Temporary The apartment always looked like a small tornado had passed through. Tiny entrance overflowing, the girls’ toys everywhere, no place for ironing board and laundry, kitchen counter sagging under its burden, second-hand furniture haphazardly placed. They didn’t have much, but the apartment was small and impractical, and the storage space nearly non-existent. She didn’t mind the chaos, though, because it was only temporary. Didn’t really want to fix this one up too much, or keep it too orderly or cozy. Now they’d actually moved to town, the sorry state of this apartment sure enough proved that they needed something bigger and better. Even he must see that, and be spurred on to make that extra effort. Soon…. He didn’t mind the chaos, though, because it was obviously temporary. No-one could form an attachment to this cramped and cluttered place, with its lack of air and light, and its dreary parking-lot view. The impersonal turmoil soothed him, assured him they would be moving back to a ranch somewhere, to wide spaces, open skies - and cheaper rent, so he could afford his time off in the mountains. After this, wouldn’t she be happy for them all to breathe free again? Soon…. (Comment on this)
9:20 pm	Food for Thought - Brokeback double drabble Brokeback double drabble (200 words), Rated PG, Movie canon, Ennis' POV through inner monologue, usual disclaimers apply in full. Thought for Food / Food for Thought "Ok, got the whiskey, beer, steaks, provisions.... Only thing left is get some lil’ surprise to take along. Jack fuckin’ Twist always so particular about food, gotta bring him something special. Stuff that fine hungry mouth real good. Uh-mmmm…... with food, del Mar! Food! Goddamn. Blueberry jam…could come in handy, in a coupla situations. That man’s sure got a sweet tooth, so..... Well, a course - glazed donuts! What I need. Can just picture him and that tongue a his doin’ - things – wild donut things – laughin’, makin’ me watch… oh, fuck! Beans….? Nope, joke’s gettin’ too old. But some kinda fish, maybe. Canned trout, there’s a thought. Finally have us some actual and for-true fish on a fishin’ trip. And Jack never quit braggin’ he’s good with that can opener, better give him a shot at maybe messin' it up again. Soup? He likes soup. Christ, that brings back memories….. But what’s this? Huh… Black Bean Soup? Heheh. Perfect! He’ll wanna kick my butt for sure when he sees! Cain’t wait, can hear him bitchin’ and moanin’ and gettin’ riled up and then I’ll… we’ll… goddamn, yes.... Well, I’m done. Bean soup does it for the both a us." (Comment on this)
9:19 pm	Open Space/Gateless fence - Brokeback pair of drabbles A pair of Brokeback Drabbles, goin' nowhere. Movie canon, Rated G, trying their darndest to pack an infinite number of metaphors into 200 words.... The usual disclaimers apply. Open space They once were invisible, invincible, - the wide open spaces excitingly theirs for the taking. But these many years later, they’re trotting around safe, tame and cautious in the same old circle of rising despair out in the middle of nowhere, spacious freedom’s bright joyful promises turned elusively distant blurs. For all their trips and traveling they’ve gotten no further along. The balm of beautiful landscapes doesn’t ease the sting of seeing doors close when their eyes meet. And despite all space and air, their chests are sometimes so clogged up with unvoiced truths that they struggle to draw breath. Gateless fence When did hills become barricades, and lakes become moats? The corral penning them in and holding them back is constructed of rock and air and water, space and time and a fear as deep-rooted as any mountain, as strong and relentless as rivers in flood. They can never give words about hoping and needing free rein here, can never let shared dreams run happily wild outside that forbidding fence of “no way”. It looms discouraging and oppressive, a sky-high gateless barrier between the two of them and the temptingly beckoning freedom of a cramped and confined and ordinary everyday life. (Comment on this)
9:17 pm	Sign Language - BBM triple drabble Brokeback triple drabble (300 words - a tribble?), Movie canon, Alma's POV at time of divorce, Rated G. Standard disclaimers apply in full. Sign Language Her father owned a camera and had them lined up against the church wall for their wedding picture. A serious business, for the photographer and the happy couple alike; documenting their big day for eternity. The bride and groom visibly weren’t used to being the center of attention, nervous and awkward, solemn young faces frozen in time. And two fumbling hands unintentionally foretold the story of their marriage. His hand, occupied with its mundane task, - gallant she thought it at the time. His mind seemingly focused on the moment’s practical requirements, rather than any emotional ones. Otherwise there would be some sign of turmoil, wouldn't there? To have and to hold.... Well, at least he helped her hold the flowers. His contribution to their common good and their wedding photo, just what a proper husband should do. His hand, gratefully occupied with the bouquet, neither reached for hers nor held on to her. Her hand, naively seeking all that she had been taught to hope for in their union. True intimacy waiting for her, just for her, underneath his clothes, underneath his skin, behind that protective layer of gruff silence he wore for everyone to see. Soon, so soon – and she couldn't wait to finally get close enough. Her hand, gratefully freed from the bouquet, eagerly crept under his sleeve, onto his bare skin, touching, searching, - holding on to him. A half hour into their marriage, Alma muses. And already there for all to see are expectations at cross purposes, an innocent beginning leading to a disappointed end. For maybe they never got much farther than that. She studies the picture for another moment, face pensive and tinged with bitter longing. Then she carefully wraps it, places it facing down in the storage-crate, and silently closes the lid. (Comment on this)