due South: Fanfiction: Sandy Boots: Sand
Jan. 5th, 2026 01:42 pmAuthor:
Rating: General
Summary:Ray hates having sand in his boots
Pairing:Fraser/RayK
Word Count:75
( Sandy Boots )
The first six panels of today's SMBC:
The mouse-over title: "It's a beautiful-ass concept."
The aftercomic:
Interestingly, the Wiktionary entry lists the literal meaning in third place, presumably because current frequency of use is the ordering principle?
In contrast, the OED puts the literal meaning first, since it orders senses by age —
to attack or harm (a person) physically, esp. in order to punish or subdue; to beat up. Hence: to defeat or humiliate; to exhaust or tire out.
…with citations back to 1741:
1741 Yes (says he) you are a d——d, impudent, stinking, cursed, confounded Jade, and I have a great mind to kick your A——. (H. Fielding, Shamela vi. 13)
1855 I don't care a damn; if the adjutant comes near me I'll kick his arse. (Allen's Indian Mail 29 January 41/1)
The metaphorical sense "to act roughly or aggressively; to be powerful or assertive" is only traced back to 1977, and is not distinguished from the (even more abstract) sense that Wiktionary glosses as "To be very impressive".
Following up on the "beautiful-ass" modifier in the mouse-over title:
"New intensifiers", 8/16/2004
"The intensified crack of dawn", 6/7/2005
"Is is a prosodic-ass constraint?", 8/25/2011
"Can "[adjective]-ass" occur predicatively?", 11/18/2013
"Ignoble-ass citation practices", 11/12/2014
"A productive-ass suffix", 1/29/2018
"Compound intensifier of the week", 10/20/2024

Joan Crawford’s all-talkie debut, Untamed, begins as a drama with music set in South America, then makes a choppy transition to a society romance in which the lovers are reconciled only after she attempts to murder him. The film’s tone shifts with every new scene. At no time does any character in Untamed resemble any human being who ever lived, but its flamboyant unreality gives the film a vaguely comic, unintentional charm.
Alexander MacDonald, MA (Edinburgh), known to his intimates as Sandy, mounted the short flight of steps to the front door of the attractive residence in Mayfair that he shared with his dear friend Clorinda, Dowager Marchioness of Bexbury. The door was opened to him with almost sinister expedition by Hector, her major-domo.
Over the years he had more or less got over any embarrassment at being helped off with his over-garments, his hat placed carefully upon a rack, stick put out of the way, umbrella, should it be raining, taken to be put somewhere to dry – really, he was quite used to all this, after his years at Raxdell House and now here.
Is Her Ladyship in? he enquired.
In the parlour – and quite alone, Hector added. For one could not at all count upon that, even though it was not Clorinda’s usual day for being At Home to callers. There were so many of her acquaintance might come call for a more private convocation, or to discuss various matters of philanthropy in which she was engaged. He had no desire to intrude on anything of the kind.
Hector announced, Mr MacDonald, Your Ladyship –
O, really, Hector, why so ceremonious? La, I know what it is, he is still overcome that the dear Bishop came to call earlier –
Who would have supposed, years ago when Sandy had first come to know Clorinda, in those days one of the crack courtesans about Town, that she would be having bishops come call? She had first met Bishop Tanton by way of her dear friends the Reverend Dr Hugh Lucas, that was a rector in the diocese of Wyreminster, and his wife Agnes, and discovered him an enthusiast for the drama of the Middle Ages.
And, Sandy had remarked, your lovely eyes, for I am sure bishops do not dwell upon such things as what you were wont to refer to as your famed bubbies. Is he not a widower?
Clorinda had drooped her eyelids at him and said Sandy was a great teaze.
– There is some festival approaches – commemoration of some great event in the diocese – and he is very ardent to have their own miracle play produced. And really, I am by no means confident that it is suited to the refined taste of the present day, sure 'tis of great historic interest no doubt –
And hopes you may introduce him to your theatrical connexions?
Much about the like! said Clorinda with a sigh.
Came in Hector with the tea service and a well-supplied cake-stand.
As if I had not already had my fill, she said, but do you, Sandy, refresh yourself after your endeavours at enlightening young minds.
Tea and the various products of Euphemia’s baking came very grateful!
But in news I am sure you will find more interesting, she went on, for I know church matters are quite anathema to you, I have had a fine budget of news from Emmy di Serrante in Naples. And 'tis by no means the most important matter, but 'tis very amuzing I think you will admit: turns out that in Virginia, the sad end of the late Earl of Nuttenford is considered in the light of a cautionary tale about going about the woods unprepared as to the proper conduct when encountering a bear. For so happens some friend of the father of this Virginian family that she has met there was of the party, and avers that the inhabitants of those parts all know what to do in such a contingency to avoid being eat by the beast.
Sandy grinned and said, To point a moral, and adorn a tale!
Quite. However, it rather spoilt their chances of making up to the Imbremeres when they told the tale in their presence. But to proceed – Basil Linsleigh lingers there, quite besotted with the charms of the young man Marcello and his confederates have put in his way, painting him as every sort of god and hero –
Sandy groaned.
So it is quite the like of Odysseus and Circe. While as for the Imbremeres, they were intending to travel on, but Giulia read her cards for Verena and was very concerned about the prospects of travel. But Emmy supposes that that is less about any omens she saw and about observing Verena having been somewhat sickly and qualmish lately, and does that portend what one must suspect, 'tis wisest not to go to sea just yet. Also, Gussie finds a good deal of botanical interest, so is quite content to linger.
We apprehend that the young di Serrantes are also quite content to linger in those parts, rather than venturing further in the peninsula!
Clorinda sighed and said, 'twas a very pleasant spot. But that she fancied that Nardo found Marcello quite the finest mentor in matters of the cultivation of grapes and making of wine, and that, from what Sir Vernon hinted, Emmy was gleaning useful intelligence in those parts. Who would have supposed?
Sandy lifted his eyebrows and said, fancied her letters to La Signora Umberti also conveyed useful, if somewhat different, intelligence. He glanced at the clock and remarked that he should change – otherwise would be late for his chess game with Father O’Donoghue.
It is good of you to indulge an old fellow that believes you destined for hellfire!
Plays a very sharp game – and one must consider his fine dedication to the cause of Ireland –
Clorinda smiled at him. One might enquire whether he hears aught from Jimmie O’Callaghan in California.
When Sandy arrived at the aged priest’s lodgings, where he was looked after by a couple of much younger priests, or possibly religious of some other kind, Sandy did not interrogate, he discovered that Father O’Donoghue already had a visitor and had not yet set out the chessmen.
MacDonald! – sure the time has run away with us – let me introduce Rory Sullivan from Cork, that has been bringing me a fine budget of gossip, and also some whiskey – I daresay that as a Scot you will turn up your nose –
Sullivan the distiller? asked Sandy, one hears very well of his liquors. He had heard from Matt Johnson that this relative of Lady Wauderkell had been seen in Town about finding his errant cousin and resolving the matter of the family lawsuit, but had not known he still lingered.
Mr Sullivan said indeed so, was obliged to spend some time in England about this sad matter of his cousin Juliana – Lady Wauderkell that was, one understands that she is not entitled to the name of O’Neill and there is a bigamy action being brought against the scoundrel that lately eloped with her, but it waits upon the arrival of certain evidence.
But at least, praise God, she was in safe haven with those fine nuns – must be quite the best thing for her after her ordeals – what a very holy creature was her friend Sister Benedict –
Sandy managed not to splutter his whiskey at this description of a lady who, prior to taking the veil, had been a noted purveyor of special pleasures for gentlemen.
He was talking to the legal fellows at Hassetts – and had also been give several names about the possibility of importing Sullivan’s fine liquors – so remained in Town longer than had originally anticipated – and had heard that the good father was still in life –
Sandy wondered whether there was still some matter of the Irish Cause in play. Sure he had the greatest sympathy with that unhappy island, even was it still direly afflicted with Romish superstition besides the oppressions of the British government.
The conversation drifted towards the failings of the present government and the forthcoming election, though none of 'em were entire sanguine that matters would be improved. There was no suitable opening to enquire whether Father O’Donaghue had any intelligence of how Jimmie O’Callaghan got on in California, or indeed was he even still there.
So Sandy returned to the Mayfair house, and discovered matters there rather more pleasing than he had been in any anticipation of.
Though here was Sophy came to him in the library to wax somewhat indignant that here was Timothy, finds himself in a muddle over some matter to do with the Song and Supper Rooms, and thinks there is naught for it but to beg Maurice for his advice – at this time o’year! With all this additional press of business! 'tis quite shameful. But, at least, here is Euphemia goes make him a good sustaining supper, and you may persuade him to rest and that that he may sleep here –
It was, he supposed, no wonder that the household took his relations with Maurice quite in the normal order of things – Sophy had known how it was with her cousin since their youth – Clorinda’s establishment had ever been in great sympathy to love beyond the usual rules – not merely her lack of concern for monogamous union – but her long happy triangular relation with the late Josiah and Eliza Ferraby – her present liaison with Leda Hacker – and her long friendship with Gervase, the late Viscount Raxdell, Sandy’s former employer and lover, whose secrets she had protected for many years.
Came in Maurice, indeed looking somewhat worn. He threw himself into one of the easy-chairs and commenced upon complaining, not about Timothy’s demands, but the trials that at present beset that crack modiste’s, Mamzelle Bridgette.
'Tis bad enough that we do not have just the usual flurry upon on hand of dressing our patrons for a summer of going about country house parties, that we are used to accommodating – no, that is an expected thing – but this election! – o, there will be all sorts of balls and ceremonious occasions &C to dress for and aside from being dressed appropriate for such things, ‘tis a matter of the colours must be correct – even do they not in the least suit the lady in question, and one dares not suggest they turn their coat –
Sophy sighed in sympathy and said, very trying indeed. She would just go see did Euphemia have his supper ready.
Sandy went to kiss Maurice, stroke the dark curls, and then go to the cupboard in which he prudently kept a bottle of gin alongside port, brandy, and whisky, and poured out a glass.
There, my dear, you will feel better for that.
Maurice took a sip and looked up at Sandy with a sudden, enchanting, mischievous smile. La, you all go indulge my megrims! Well, I will go be a good boy and eat up my nice supper. And then – mayhap a little healthful recreation?
He could still make Sandy blush, but this had fortunately faded by the time Euphemia entered.
Something, you might think, happened here, long, long ago; something, you might think, is on the cusp of happening again. But that is the nature of grammar—it is always tense, like an instrument, aching for release, longing to transform present into past into future, is into was into will. [p. 4]
A short novella from the co-author of This is How You Lose the Time War. The River Liss runs from Faerie, past the Refrain (an assemblage of standing stones) and through the Modal Lands, between two ancient trees known as the Professors, and between ordinary fields to the town of Thistleford. ( Read more... )