he's not my type, but...

[floorpigeon]

My ovaries think a former football player -- now Texan research scientist at A&M who works with "flame-resistant materials" -- is dream guy material, for sure. I could live with the sideburns, even.


It's just. Looking at this guy, technically I know that romance novels are fiction, but for a moment one forgets. I mean, really? Really??? He's got to be like, really dull at parties. Well, he's just an engineer. Engineers are like the jocks of the sciences anyway, right... :>

And in bigger, better science news, a physicist at a DARPA conference came up with an engineless starship. I, of course, find this a lot more hot, even if he's also not my type.

Comments

[stellabelle.livejournal.com]

Yes:


With two competent men at the helm, Byron finds himself content to lounge on the deck, languid from the heady Mediterranean sun. "What the devil are you doing?" he asks suddenly, voice thick from exhaustion.

"I am writing your elegy," Shelley replies, a bit too much glee in his voice. "Should you like me to read it to you?"

"Oh, yes," Byron says, voice flat. "Of course, I should like it very much. I should like it almost as much as the walk you promised me would last one hour."

"It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"We spent the night in the woods!" says Byron. "I had to sleep upon pine needles. I awoke with strange creatures assaulting me, and my hair had turned green!"

"They were ants," Percy reminds him, "and it was moss. You lived, did you not?"

"Barely."

Percy clears his throat: "Right. I shall begin now: Of lofty climes and deepest seas / We shall speak not: we speak of fleas / Bit to death, our golden boy / Beneath his pretentious trompe l'oiel / We mourn for him, as brave and dear / Then scuttle off to find some beer."

"Enough," Byron says, though his eyes give him away. "I shall have my revenge. And now, come sit with me. You are to be my servant boy, and feed me grapes till dusk."

"What happens after dusk?" Percy asks, a little frightened now.

"I'm not entirely sure, but someone is going to have to swab these decks."

[floorpigeon.livejournal.com]

<3<3<3<3 I definitely should not be giggling so happily while at work people are trying to write Serious Papers. hee. The fleas! The scuttling! The beginning almost sounding like Shelley! hee! And Byron's eyes giving him away! so cute! :D! I am ashamed that I'm not sure what swabbing decks entails... it can't possibly be cleaning, right. Maybe on his knees, in his nightie...hm.

[stellabelle.livejournal.com]

They're meant to be sailing, thus the swabbing the decks (like, mopping or scouring them). It would most certainly have to be done on his knees, with his shirt undone and all sweaty from the heat.
WHY IS THIS SO HOT. It shouldn't be. It is WRONG, right. Right. Wrong.
(And now I am going to continue to write about wrestling ink-stained boys, because I have no boundaries or sense of moral decency.)

[floorpigeon.livejournal.com]

It is totally in no way wrong (and I know, because this is clearly my expert opinion). Byron would totally get a kick out of it. And possibly take notes. :>

[floorpigeon.livejournal.com]

Note, I had to resist bad puns about Byron's lording it over Shelley.... *facepalm*