richaldis  asked:

(870):I have got to stop taking so many uppers and downers simultaneously. My life is a Dali painting.

You didn’t specify a pairing, so you get three!


“I have got to stop taking so many uppers and downers simultaneously,” Geoffrey said, drolly, “My life is a Dali painting.”

His companions were indifferent, but the men at the next table, strikingly handsome men in pristine white suits, had a stronger reaction.

“Dali?” said the taller of the two.

“You think he’s surreal?” sneered the shorter.







One man held up his wrist to demonstrate a watch melting off of his arm; the other pulled back his coat to reveal a melting pocket watch sliding from his vest.

“These are more…”






“I have got to stop taking so many uppers and downers simultaneously,” Vince said, trying to joke but full of shame. “My life is a Dali painting.”

“What were you on when you did this, anyway?” Howard asked; more concerned than judgmental.

“I was riding high off four mocha lattes and then I tried listening to ‘Angie’ to bring me down,” Vince explained, feeling foolish as he said the words.

“You idiot!  You can’t mix sad songs and caffeine!”

Vince was in tears when Howard patted his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Vince.  So you bought a Coldplay CD?  I’ll never tell.”

Nathan Barley

After the rescue trucks were gone, and they had both been medically cleared and released, Dan and Claire walked through the flat, assessing the damage done by a lit fag and sleeping Dan.

“Not that bad,” Dan lied as he surveyed the charred remains of the bedroom. 

The both jumped when they heard Jones say, “Oi.”  They found him under the bed, where he’d apparently been passed out through the entire incident.

“I have got to stop taking so many uppers and downers simultaneously,” he said as he poked at a melted alarm clock. “My life is a Dali painting.”



gothicmarquise  asked:

OOH could you please do a Rosey/Bauer fic? Just of them walking in the park and beng adorable and couple-y (so standard them, then) or something similar. :) Because you are right, there is NOT enough of them.

“A flower.” Rosey stops and plucks the plant from the bed lining the park pathway, a row of red roses separating green from gray. He holds it up to his companion, a look of concentration on his face. “The ultimate symbol of offence, best give them to someone you despise.”

“That’s amazing.” Bauer leans forward in interest, his face lit up in a beaming smile of admiration and worship, ever amazed by the intelligence of his better half. “How do you suppose?”

“It’s a thing of beauty that withers, be it due to time or disaster,” The taller man’s words are morbid, but his tone is cheery and his eyes are full of affection. “Not even love is invincible against time, everything fades and dies.”

“Perhaps not.” Bauer agrees. Gently, he takes the flower and smells it, and holds it in his hands like a precious treasure. “But if it were to last forever, it’s beauty would be worthless.”

“This conversation-”

“-Is too poetic and optimistic for our taste?” Bauer’s smile widens. “You started it.”

“The optimism-starter here is you. If it weren’t for you I could have had an artful and tragic suicide, my name would be legendary, like Van Gogh.”

“I saved you from a saccharine fairy tale death. There’s far more tragedy in dying old and penniless, your name fading into obscurity.”

“But not alone?” Rosey took his hand and gently squeezed it. Bauer squeezed back and shook his head as they turned to continue walking down the path. “No, dearest, not alone.”


I can hardly believe that when I first watched this the only one I knew was Stephen Fry, and now I love all of them basically.