Title: Misher Masher
Disclaimer: I do not own Lackadaisy. I have neither the talent, the patience, the insight…the list goes on.
Warnings: Small smatterings of slash, blood and, eh, other things.
Summary: Music makes some lose control, but it also brings much into focus.

I just have this to say: Tracy J. Butler is a god for creating this fantastic comic. Really, really.

Nothing Else I Can Say- Lady Gaga:

Hips sashayed with a to and fro motion that Wick had only ever really appreciated when used by the body of Mitzi. True, he liked looking at other women, but there was something special about her hips. Ever decked out in clothes that she really couldn't afford anymore, just round enough that they didn't over or under do it, and a tail that emphasized ever motion.

Damn. He was always dead set on not seeing her again after turning down her offers, but then she started walking away and he'd always find a reason for her to come back because of those hips

The Bells of Notre Dame- Alan Menken:

The alley shined and shadowed brightly even with the sun covered in early morning fog. What little light peaked around the whiteness seemed to flicker directly into Mordecai's glasses and he lightly removed them from his nose again, glaring up towards the shy sun.

Still glaring upwards, smooth ears leaned back as the bells from the church he was standing right next to chimed six times, reminding him, it seemed, of the hour. As such, he placed the glasses back on his nose and picked up his coat from where he'd left it on a nearby fence, completely ignoring the body of the poor fool Asa had asked him to dispose of as the dark man left for breakfast with Viktor and those two southern scoundrels with their horrible accents.

Leave Your Lights On- Carlos Santana:

With the ever present urge to growl and send whoever was at his door packing, Viktor was about to attempt to get up from his chair (the same one he had been in for the last nine hours since Ivy had dragged him into it claiming he needed sunlight in from the window, rather than lying in bed all day) when he heard the lock click with the sound of the one key he had given out. Thereupon, he relaxed and closed his eye again.

The delightful and succulent smell of meat came in, simultaneous with that perfume the large man's favorite person called Sensuality (which unconsciously set him on edge every time she explains exactly why she was wearing something like that) and Viktor blinked open his eye again.

Only to find blinding golden hued eyes staring back at him.

Viktor groaned half-heartedly, "Vhat is it?"

Ivy leaned in and patted his head, the lamb pie hidden behind her back swinging around with her arm as she smiled broadly, "Dinner time, silly goose!"

The Prayer- Celine Dion & Andrea Bocelli:

Sad eyes stared out into the empty white space of winter. It had been blizzarding for three weeks straight and still showed no sign of letting up in the least. Instead, just when Calvin thought it would let up, it just got worse, and he kept worrying.

Not really about the weather, he didn't care if he got cold, but then, he had a nice warm house, fire place and mother baking three meals a day for him. His cousin on the other hand…

Sighing, Calvin stepped away from the window and went from the living room, leaving his revolver and the cleaning bits needed for it on the table, to go into the foyer. Before the door sat a tiny pile of slightly worse for wear pieces of mail. He picked them up and sorted them; bills for momma, note from the academy for him, letters from a few of momma's friends…and one coffee stained letter addressed to Freckle.

Completely forgoing setting the other letters in the kitchen where they were supposed to go and simply dropping them on the little dresser in the front that housed all of the winter gloves and what not, Calvin hastily opened the letter (though carefully, seeing as the last note from Rocky was made out of a napkin) and nearly bawled his head off in happiness when he rushed up the stairs and started reading once he got to his room and locked the door.

'Freckle, I find myself somehow, in one way or another, in California! Granted, it wasn't easy hopping those trains and avoiding the bulls and accepting that ride from that tranny in the middle of…'

Hot Air Balloon:

Hiding within the tall golden foliage of the wheat field, Ivy can feel the fur on the back of her neck stand up and flatten in time with her heart pounding in her ears. She can see Viktor looking over the empty place that she had been standing in, making their picnic nice and presentable, with a blank look.

Counting down in her head, '5…4…3…2…'

Her tail hit the ground once before she leapt into the air, a high pitched squeal ringing out as she tackled the great behemoth.

Well, actually, tackled wouldn't be correct phrasing, seeing as he caught her and let her drop in a heap in front of him, rubbing her nose from where it hit his barrel chest. He looked mildly amused, she was sure.