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rainbowfic2012-01-25 11:23 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-01-25 11:23 pm
Fire Opal 5, White Opal 12, Rust 2: Pocketful of Sunshine
Author: Kat
Title: Pocketful of Sunshine
Story: In The Heart, plus some Second Genesis.
Colors: Fire opal 5 (ravenous), white opal 12 (moonlight sonata), rust 2 (antique lace) with Sara's paint-by-numbers (There is so much more to Joy than just her appearance.).
Supplies and Materials: Mixed media, miniature collection, eraser (Chloe, Kurt, and Amanda's sections), mosaic, collage (of Nikki's Second Genesis), acrylic (Alpha, Beta, Omega), seed beads (Aaron gets mentioned at one point).
Word Count: 800ish, without song lyrics.
Rating: PG-13 for sex.
Summary: Joy Maserati in ten songs.
Warnings: Nope, none.
Notes: Aand white opal is DONE! Now taking suggestions for characters to be mixed. I really need space for a Joy icon. Speaking of, Joy is played by Sarah Porchetta, who, much like Tricia Helfer, is often photographed nekkid. Google at your own risk.
Download here.
Beat Control, Tilly and the Wall
All these people talking 'bout you now
They don't make no difference, no
We always have the rhythm here
In our blood and in our souls
Joy could not remember a time when she hadn't danced.
Her mother, rather sentimentally, told her that she'd even danced in the womb. Joy didn't quite believe that, but she knew she'd been dancing as soon as she could walk, maybe before. It was just something in the music, any music, something infectuous and joyful that pulled at her hips and moved her feet, swung her shoulders, tossed her hair.
She couldn't live, if she couldn't dance.
Let Me Be Good To You, Melissa Manchester
So dream on and drink your beer
Get cozy, your baby's here
You won't be misunderstood
Let me be good to you
Stripping seemed a natural progression.
Well, maybe not to other people, but it seemed right to Joy. She was good enough to dance on Broadway, but that was too structured, too rigid. She'd be doing the same steps, night after night, no variation and not even any choice, because they'd all been made up by someone else.
So she stripped, did burlesque, danced her own way, and got to flaunt her body (which was awesome) while she was at it. And if anyone creeped on her, she could just kick them in the face.
Honestly, she couldn't see a downside.
Buddha's Delight, Haley Bennett
You're a taste of Buddha's delight
Tell me all your fantasies tonight
And I will make them happen
Cause I'm not satisfied if I don't get my Buddha's delight
Sex, Joy discovered, was awesome.
It probably wouldn't have been awesome if she didn't pick out an expert for her first time, but she had that foresight, and he was that good. When she had bad sexual encounters, she at least knew what it should be.
In fact, sex was so awesome, Joy didn't see any reason to confine herself to men. Maybe if she hadn't been attracted to women, but she was, very much. Really, she was just attracted to everyone.
As long as everyone had a good time, she couldn't see the harm.
Pop! Goes My Heart, Hugh Grant
I said I wasn’t gonna lose my head
But then pop! Goes my heart
I wasn’t gonna fall in love again
But then pop! Goes my heart
Joy fell in and out love too easily for her own good.
Oh, sure, she managed to remain friends with her exes-- most of them, anyway. Hell, she counted Aaron in particular as one of her better friends, and she had no idea what she'd do without Lindy in her life. But she still felt as if something was lacking in her, that she loved like lace, impermanent and fragile.
But lace could be preserved, and so could her love.
It wasn't even that hard, in the end.
Lucky In Love, Jill Sobule
Even if I lost the job
I'm lucky in love, lucky in love
...even if the winter comes and I never see the sun
oh I know I will be miserable but I'm lucky in love
She could handle anything, after that.
So she lost her job-- her lover had her back. So she sprained her ankle-- she knew she would be taken care of, pampered even. Her friends were warm and close, her lover was all she'd ever wanted, her general job made her happy, her coworkers were close to universally amazing.
And even if she lost it all, she'd always been lucky in love.
She'd bounce up again.
Da Doo Ron Ron/Magic In Your Eyes, Alyssa Milano
Yes he caught my eye
Yes but my oh my
And when he walked me home
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron
The thing that Joy loved most about Michael was his sheer vitality.
Not, she supposed, what most people would think of, looking at him with his cane and his near-constant splints and casts. They didn't know him, didn't sit next to him while he wrote, didn't talk with him about all the places he'd been and the places he was going to go. He was so animated, so full of life; she went to him like a moth to a flame.
Only with much better results.
Your Love is a Song, Switchfoot
Your love is a symphony
All around me
Running through me
Your love is a melody
Underneath me
Running to me
Joy loved music with every breath and bone in her body. So loving Chloe was natural.
It wasn't that Chloe was musical. It was that Chloe was music, light and dark and laughter and sorrow wrapped up in a blazing bundle of chords and rhythm. Every move she made set a rhythm thrumming through Joy's blood; every time she laughed, a flute played in Joy's head.
She was music. And Joy loved her.
The Look of Love, Dusty Springfield
The look of love is in your eyes
The look your smile can't disguise
The look of love is saying so much more
Than just words could ever say
Kurt didn't talk too much. He'd told Joy once with that adorable little half-smile that he got nervous around attractive women, so nervous he couldn't string words together. She hoped he was comfortable around her by now.
He still didn't talk much. But then again, he didn't need to. Every time he looked at her, every time he kissed her, every time he touched her skin, she could see the love in him, like a lantern in the window.
She needed no more confirmation than that.
(You're So Square) Baby I Don't Care, Elvis Presley
You don't like crazy music.
You don't like rockin' bands.
You just wanna go to a movie show,
And sit there holdin' hands.
You're so square, baby, I don't care.
For someone who picked up strange women in bars, Amanda was surprisingly stodgy. She didn't like going out too late at night, she voted conservative, and she dressed in the ugliest suits, all boxy and square and dark.
But really what Amanda did was settled Joy down, and Joy in turn made her lighten up and actually have fun once in a while.
And they loved each other. That helped, too.
Joy still tried to get her voting liberal, though.
Pocketful of Sunshine, Natasha Bedingfield
I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine
I've got a love and I know that it's all mine
oh, oh oh
Joy lived up to her name, every day.
People wondered at her attitude, but she genuinely didn't understand the question. What was there to be unhappy about in her life? She had a job she loved, people she loved, a family of friends, parents who adored her. Most of all, she had the music that ruled her life, and a body that could follow the dictates of the music. She had so many blessings.
How could she not be joyful?
Title: Pocketful of Sunshine
Story: In The Heart, plus some Second Genesis.
Colors: Fire opal 5 (ravenous), white opal 12 (moonlight sonata), rust 2 (antique lace) with Sara's paint-by-numbers (There is so much more to Joy than just her appearance.).
Supplies and Materials: Mixed media, miniature collection, eraser (Chloe, Kurt, and Amanda's sections), mosaic, collage (of Nikki's Second Genesis), acrylic (Alpha, Beta, Omega), seed beads (Aaron gets mentioned at one point).
Word Count: 800ish, without song lyrics.
Rating: PG-13 for sex.
Summary: Joy Maserati in ten songs.
Warnings: Nope, none.
Notes: Aand white opal is DONE! Now taking suggestions for characters to be mixed. I really need space for a Joy icon. Speaking of, Joy is played by Sarah Porchetta, who, much like Tricia Helfer, is often photographed nekkid. Google at your own risk.
Download here.
All these people talking 'bout you now
They don't make no difference, no
We always have the rhythm here
In our blood and in our souls
Joy could not remember a time when she hadn't danced.
Her mother, rather sentimentally, told her that she'd even danced in the womb. Joy didn't quite believe that, but she knew she'd been dancing as soon as she could walk, maybe before. It was just something in the music, any music, something infectuous and joyful that pulled at her hips and moved her feet, swung her shoulders, tossed her hair.
She couldn't live, if she couldn't dance.
So dream on and drink your beer
Get cozy, your baby's here
You won't be misunderstood
Let me be good to you
Stripping seemed a natural progression.
Well, maybe not to other people, but it seemed right to Joy. She was good enough to dance on Broadway, but that was too structured, too rigid. She'd be doing the same steps, night after night, no variation and not even any choice, because they'd all been made up by someone else.
So she stripped, did burlesque, danced her own way, and got to flaunt her body (which was awesome) while she was at it. And if anyone creeped on her, she could just kick them in the face.
Honestly, she couldn't see a downside.
You're a taste of Buddha's delight
Tell me all your fantasies tonight
And I will make them happen
Cause I'm not satisfied if I don't get my Buddha's delight
Sex, Joy discovered, was awesome.
It probably wouldn't have been awesome if she didn't pick out an expert for her first time, but she had that foresight, and he was that good. When she had bad sexual encounters, she at least knew what it should be.
In fact, sex was so awesome, Joy didn't see any reason to confine herself to men. Maybe if she hadn't been attracted to women, but she was, very much. Really, she was just attracted to everyone.
As long as everyone had a good time, she couldn't see the harm.
I said I wasn’t gonna lose my head
But then pop! Goes my heart
I wasn’t gonna fall in love again
But then pop! Goes my heart
Joy fell in and out love too easily for her own good.
Oh, sure, she managed to remain friends with her exes-- most of them, anyway. Hell, she counted Aaron in particular as one of her better friends, and she had no idea what she'd do without Lindy in her life. But she still felt as if something was lacking in her, that she loved like lace, impermanent and fragile.
But lace could be preserved, and so could her love.
It wasn't even that hard, in the end.
Even if I lost the job
I'm lucky in love, lucky in love
...even if the winter comes and I never see the sun
oh I know I will be miserable but I'm lucky in love
She could handle anything, after that.
So she lost her job-- her lover had her back. So she sprained her ankle-- she knew she would be taken care of, pampered even. Her friends were warm and close, her lover was all she'd ever wanted, her general job made her happy, her coworkers were close to universally amazing.
And even if she lost it all, she'd always been lucky in love.
She'd bounce up again.
Yes he caught my eye
Yes but my oh my
And when he walked me home
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron
The thing that Joy loved most about Michael was his sheer vitality.
Not, she supposed, what most people would think of, looking at him with his cane and his near-constant splints and casts. They didn't know him, didn't sit next to him while he wrote, didn't talk with him about all the places he'd been and the places he was going to go. He was so animated, so full of life; she went to him like a moth to a flame.
Only with much better results.
Your love is a symphony
All around me
Running through me
Your love is a melody
Underneath me
Running to me
Joy loved music with every breath and bone in her body. So loving Chloe was natural.
It wasn't that Chloe was musical. It was that Chloe was music, light and dark and laughter and sorrow wrapped up in a blazing bundle of chords and rhythm. Every move she made set a rhythm thrumming through Joy's blood; every time she laughed, a flute played in Joy's head.
She was music. And Joy loved her.
The look of love is in your eyes
The look your smile can't disguise
The look of love is saying so much more
Than just words could ever say
Kurt didn't talk too much. He'd told Joy once with that adorable little half-smile that he got nervous around attractive women, so nervous he couldn't string words together. She hoped he was comfortable around her by now.
He still didn't talk much. But then again, he didn't need to. Every time he looked at her, every time he kissed her, every time he touched her skin, she could see the love in him, like a lantern in the window.
She needed no more confirmation than that.
You don't like crazy music.
You don't like rockin' bands.
You just wanna go to a movie show,
And sit there holdin' hands.
You're so square, baby, I don't care.
For someone who picked up strange women in bars, Amanda was surprisingly stodgy. She didn't like going out too late at night, she voted conservative, and she dressed in the ugliest suits, all boxy and square and dark.
But really what Amanda did was settled Joy down, and Joy in turn made her lighten up and actually have fun once in a while.
And they loved each other. That helped, too.
Joy still tried to get her voting liberal, though.
I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine
I've got a love and I know that it's all mine
oh, oh oh
Joy lived up to her name, every day.
People wondered at her attitude, but she genuinely didn't understand the question. What was there to be unhappy about in her life? She had a job she loved, people she loved, a family of friends, parents who adored her. Most of all, she had the music that ruled her life, and a body that could follow the dictates of the music. She had so many blessings.
How could she not be joyful?