“I’m a practical man. I believe in gravity, Newton’s Third Law, and the Doctor.” – Captain Jack Harkness, Choices by RobinC “I’m not Tinker Bell, Colonel. I won’t blink out of existence jus’ because you refuse to believe in Time Lords.” – The Doctor, Choices by RobinC <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=24788>
"Look, if there's one thing I learned with the Doctor, it's that sometimes you have to run first and realize you didn't get eaten later." – Donna Noble, Displacement <http://michelel72.livejournal.com/49511.html>
“I’m a monster.” “Yes.” Jack looks up, surprised. He had expected at least a token protest, even though he knows it to be true. The Doctor’s gaze is steady and serious. “You’re a monster. Because that's what happens if you keep on being a hero long enough.” – Heroes and Monsters by Yamx <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=32346>
It hadn’t been four years, actually. Somewhere in the darkness of an Arizona back road, Sam piped up with a revelation: between that April day when he’d left them in the baking heat of the South Dakotan Badlands, and the Halloween night when Dean had shown up unannounced at his door (through his door, actually), there had been exactly 1300 turns of the Earth.
Dean had grunted, and thanked every benevolent spirit he knew that the darkness of night hid his face.
~~
Sammy had finally spoken quietly into the long silence. “Do you hate me?”
“No,” Dean replied instantly, without thinking. But he didn’t need to think. This was his brother. Of course he didn’t hate him. He could feel Sammy’s eyes on him, and kept his own gaze trained on the same FHM magazine spread of Jessica Biel that he’d been pretending to read for about an hour.
“Dad said not to come back.” Sammy’s voice deepened with his anger. “He said that once I left the family, that was it, I couldn’t come back to it.”
Dean closed the magazine sharply, glancing desperately around the waiting room. He prayed for a large-breasted woman, or an armed robbery. Hell, he’d take a poltergeist, anything to halt this particular conversation. It cut through that nice pleasant layer of casual blasé in which he wrapped himself.
And God knew, once you got under there, he might shatter into a million sniveling, helpless shards of defeated coping mechanisms. Dean knew what he was; a soldier had to recognize his own weaknesses, and know how far he could push them. He was a wire cage, held together with duct tape, and inside he hid the raised scars of his own flesh. The sleepless hours in crappy hotel rooms, arms wrapped around little Sammy’s chubby frame and his fingers in his brother’s hair, whispering stories that would drown out the screams of their father’s nightmares next door. That night in Tennessee, when he first had understood and accepted that he would never be free of his brother’s life. Those endless times that ran together, when he’d watched his father bleed or make something else bleed. It was a job, Dad had explained to him, think of it like a job. Office workers get up every morning and type up reports; ask them at the end of the year and they’d likely never recall an individual day’s work.
And Dean had obeyed, deliberately letting his memories slide and merge. And they’d promptly melted into a great crushing well of nothing, because Dad had failed to recognize one crucial thing: he had his wife’s face to lay him to sleep every night, and to waken him in the morning for a fresh day’s work.
Dean had only Sammy. And Sammy wanted out.
~~
Dean laughed. He threw his head back and laughed, because he couldn’t start crying and expect to stop anytime soon. Duct tape only held together for so long.
~~
It’s only later, after he practically ran back to the car and watched the bus pull away in the rearview mirror, after he drove two hours back with clenched teeth and blurred eyes that don’t quite spill over, that he felt the world shrink, until there was nothing left but an old man inside a grungy motel room. An old broken man who would slide in between being his father and a soldier, who was now chugging down the solitary bottle of rum that Dean had failed to confiscate. Another failure, one that he would need bruises to pay for.
Dean slid the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. The world closed around him, tight.
I think there's a rule somewhere that says something about apocalypsos not actually being capable of writing truly crappy fic. But I'm not completely sure. I guess I'll just have to keep researching it. Darn.
Dean really does not want to know what any of this says about his sexual inclinations, but he's really hoping the step after "offering to suck off your brother" isn't "finding sheep attractive."
****
Dean frowns like he's been mortally offended. "Dude, why not?"
"You mean, aside from the fact that we're brothers?"
Dean waves his hand in that, "Yeah, and?" gesture.
"And I'm not gay?"
Another hand wave.
"And you're not gay?"
Dean levels his gaze at Sam and really hopes that, Do you really think I would be offering to blow you if I weren't at least a little bit gay?, telegraphs better than he expects it to.
Okay, he wouldn't call it gay exactly, because one of his friends at that second-to-last high school he'd gone to before graduation called it "everyonesexual" and Dean still thinks that's the best damn word on the planet. A hell of a lot better than bi, anyway. Everyonesexual, adj. Someone who's perfectly content to fuck anyone as long as they get off.
He hears the soft humming and heads down to his basement where his boat is. His boat got a lot of work on it in those days after...afterwards, and he found that, much to his horror, it was almost done.
He remembered Ducky rambling about a story...Odysseus or something. He vaguely remembered the tale from high school. Odysseus was gone for twenty years; the latter ten he was supposed to have come home. His wife had waited for him, weaving a shroud and burial clothes for her deceased father-in-law...she'd weave in the morning and take it apart at night.
There was an immediate reason for it, to stave off disrespectful suitors, but in those rare moments when Gibbs actually thinks over Ducky's stories, he wonders if there wasn't anything more. That finishing those clothes meant burying her husband more than it even meant burying his father, and that THAT was the real reason Penelope unraveled her weaving every night.
So one night he took apart his entire, nearly-finished boat.
I..am not usually a Gibbs/Cait fan. But, I was bored and hit the random button to see what would come up. And when it came up, I read it because...well, that's kind of the point of hitting the random button. Anyway, warning. That was one of the most painful stories I've read to date. You have to know the characters though. So there, you've been warned. Enjoy.
GEORGE FIC! *bounces* He did not disbelieve for a second that the two of them would kill him. With their bare hands. They'd probably enjoy it. They'd probably put his head on a post in the locker room for the next time anyone dared to do anything they disliked ever, ever again.
~~*~~
"Yes," George said again. "You're drunk, and Meredith hates my penis, and I am an idiot."
Meredith nodded decisively, like George had figured out all the secrets of the universe, except for the one that made him and his penis both stupid.
That night, George decided that girls were hard, and from now on he wouldn't talk to anyone female but Izzie and Dr. Bailey and Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd. And any of the patients. And his mom. Actually, pretty much anyone except Cristina and Meredith. And probably Olivia. Mostly because he thought that if they saw him talking to Olivia, he'd see Olivia in a ditch on the eleven o'clock news, and that seemed a little extreme.
You all seriously need to go read this. It's by the very very talented fox1013 who wrote this lovely thing entitled 'Something Better' which can be found here.
Oh, fandom's Grey's Anatomy by the way. But I'm really hoping you all knew that. Because if you didn't that means you haven't seen it. And that would be sad. Seriously.
“Sure.” Willow replied, deciding that anything was better than being alone in her own room. The girls set down the tray and each stuck a marshmallow on the end of their fondue fork. As the marshmallows turned nice golden colors in the small sterno flame, Cherry raised her fork in a toast. “Just as my old girl scout troop used to sing, ‘Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.”
“Here’s to silver friends.”
“To silver.”
"You know, that's sort of ironic." Willow thought, as she remembered all the talks about silver allergies she had attended that morning.
Given the nature of the program we are filtering for, we had started a hand weapon training program. Primarily knives, staffs, and machetes. They (Faith and Harris) came in with swords, axes, made spears, and daggers. Have I mentioned they are fucking scary and I want them?
So, I've stumbled across a few more fanfic universities. While reading Official Buffy and Angel Fanfiction University (named for the shows, not the pairing) I came across this gem, enjoy!
Sues: Identifying the Species
By Rhysdux
If her hair's an autumn auburn that in waves so flawless falls, If her raven or gold tresses all cascade like waterfalls, If her eyes are a peculiar shade that change with each emotion, If her skin (so creamy, pink, or fair) starts clamorous commotion;
If Valar or Lord Voldemort weep when she sings a song, If her body's slim and delicate, but she's Wonder Woman strong, If every man who meets her swiftly falls beneath her spell, If gods and demons serve her, not she Paradise or Hell;
If she's a starship ensign who always saves the day, The just-become-Immortal who knows all about swordplay; If she's Elrond's Other Daughter whom an elf prince must pursue; If she slays vampires in her sleep--oh, yes, and demons, too;
If she is Strider's sister, or Snape loves her to distraction, If, at twelve, all men lust for her (and she loves their reaction), If she can out-hack Willow, upset Gandalf's strongest spell, If there is nothing she can't do, and do superbly well;
If she has a horrid temper, and calls everybody names And all the canon characters just love her all the same, If these selfsame characters 'round her have naught to do . . . Congratulations! You have met The Dreaded Mary Sue.
"Slayer's coming," he told Willow as he gently tried to disentangle them. Willow resisted until the front door slammed open.
"I'm awake!" she cried as she jolted up into a sitting position.
"Uh, that's nice, Wills," Buffy said as she raced past. "I've got to use the ladies," she explained her hurry.
After Buffy disappeared down the hall Willow froze, staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and an uncertain look on her face, then raised one hand to rub at her chest as the other rubbed her legs.
"Uh, what was that?" Xander's eyes were wide with shock as he pointed accusingly at her.
"N-nothing," Willow replied.
"You...were you just checking to see if you had *clothes* on?" Xander yelped.
"No!" Willow lied unconvincingly as she blushed.
Spike just smirked. Before Xander could say anything else Anya walked into the apartment with Giles. As Giles moved over to the weapons trunk to clean and store the weapons he carried with him Anya walked into the living room.
"Xander, did you find your phone?" she asked, referring to the item they'd returned to the apartment to retrieve. Xander shut his mouth.
"No," he finally said, "I found...," he pointed wildly at the two sitting on the couch in front of him.
"Oh!" Anya said. "Were they naked?" she asked, hoping for some details.
"No!" Xander yelped, then gave Willow a dirty look. "Although some of us were confused on that issue for a moment." Willow blushed.
Blessed Holidays - Another Freak High Quote I don't know how things work in here exactly, but I needed to share this one too. It's from chapter 34 of Freakazoid High - appropriately enough one of the Christmas chapters. It's really long, and absolutely not funny, (in fact, it makes me cry) but this is the kind of tradition I would take pride in performing. All the info about this fic is in my last post.
**********************************
Ron and Hermione turned from where they were indulging in some seasonal cheer of their own in a suitably shadowy corner at the sound of a gentle cough and Ron frowned in puzzlement as he saw Willow and Buffy holding a tray full of unlit candles between them as Spike and Giles followed them slowly down the stairs from the dormitories. Aware that something was going on, but not entirely clear what, everyone unfamiliar with the American visitors watched as the Slayer and Wicca placed their light burden gently down on the small coffee table by the fire and gestured for people to gather around.
“We wanted to wait until the kids were in bed before we did this.” Buffy looked soberly around her at the people gathered there and then gave a bittersweet smile. “I know we’ve kind of all been thrown together by some really sucky circumstances here but there’s kind of a tradition that we’ve kept up over the years in Sunnydale, and then LA when we expanded our operation, and it wouldn’t feel like Christmas if we didn’t do it.” She smiled as she caught Cordelia and Angel’s eyes and reached back to grip Spike’s hand as she looked at Liz. “I know this has been majorly weird for you and that you think we’ve dragged Kit into something with no real thought for the consequences but it’s important you know we never forget the sacrifices made for our fight.” Buffy nodded at Willow and her friend smiled shakily as she reached for a box of matches lying on the tray.
Willow struck the match and waited until the initial flare had died away before touching the flame to the wick of the first candle. “In remembrance of those that have gone before us. For Tara.” Tears spilled from her eyes as she shook the match out and then lit another and touched it to the next candle. “And as Xander can’t leave Anya at the moment, for Jesse.”
Dawn took the matches from Willow’s cold hand and fumbled one out. “For Mom.” She blinked back her own tears as her mother’s candle flared into life and passed the box to Connor.
He frowned uneasily at the tray for a moment before raising his eyes uncertainly to Cordelia’s face and raising his eyebrows in query. Cordelia smiled in understanding and nodded as Connor struck a match. “For Darla.”
Kit’s hands trembled as she took the box of matches but her voice was steady as she lit her own candle. “For Carlos.”
Harry jumped slightly as he felt the cardboard press into his hand but managed to nod and bend to the tray. “For my parents.”
Cordelia sniffled as she took her turn and gave Angel a watery smile as she remembered when it had all really began for them. “For Doyle.”
“For those we couldn’t save.” Angel’s voice was soft as he lit his own candle and then he gathered Cordelia in a close embrace as she turned to him for comfort.
Hermione’s lips trembled as she remembered a thin-faced man with wild black eyes. “For Sirius.”
“For Cedric.” Ron tried to smile at Harry as he lit his candle but found his face just wouldn’t obey him.
Giles avoided all eyes as he took his own match out. “For Jenny.” He held the matchbox tightly in his hand before forcing himself to pass it along to Wesley.
“For Lilah.” Angel took his stricken eyes from Giles and nodded in understanding at Wesley’s slightly shamed whisper.
“For Alanna.” Gunn’s face worked with emotion as he spoke his sister’s name but he refused to break down.
Fred pressed close to his side as she took a match. “For the slaves.”
Draco tried to step back as Fred passed the box to him, but one understanding look from Angel had him reaching for the box and striking a match as a small, dead face from the night of the Hogwarts battle came back to him. “For Milly.”
Ginny brushed his hand with her fingers as she took the box and smiled tremulously up into stormy silver eyes before lighting her own candle. “For Lee.”
Molly’s eyes shimmered with tears as she thought of Lee Jordan, dying so young at Voldemort’s hand in Sunnydale, but she managed to whisper her own remembrance as the candle under her hand flared to life. “For the parents of Roberto, Luca and Sara.”
Arthur squeezed his wife’s hand as she passed the matches to him and for once managed not to go into raptures over such a muggle object. “For the Aurors.”
Snape nodded shortly as he accepted the matches from Arthur and was surprised to find himself unexpectedly moved by the simple ceremony. “For Quirrel.” He frowned in surprise as Spike took the box out of his hand when he tried to pass it to Liz and the vampire shook out a match into his palm.
“For the Slayers.” Spike kept his voice low as he lit a candle but the shame and regret for past actions were plain on his face for all to see as the wick caught. “For those that came before and those that will come after.”
Buffy smiled with loving forgiveness into his eyes as she took the matches and then turned to face Liz once more. “The last candle we light isn’t in guilt or grief.” She pulled the match head along the side of the box and then held it out to Liz with an uncertain smile. “It’s always for hope.”
Liz found her vision was blurred as she looked around her at the grave circle of faces and she reached blindly for the flaming match to touch it to the last candle. “For hope.”
There are lots of bits that are hilarious, but this is one of MY favorites.
Dawn eyed the Aurors that were grouped around the dock, pointing their wands at the rest of the accused and that weren’t actively engaged in trying to blast her boyfriend out of the air. “It’s ok; he’s the only one that can do that.” She grinned mischievously. “Well, I can do it if he boosts me and my flips are way prettier than his…”
“They are not!” Connor landed next to her and tipped the bowler hat that now adorned his head. “You just have the hair thing going for you, gives you extra flow.” He winked at the Aurors standing guard over his friends. “Hey guys, how’s it going?”
Harry waved helpfully at the rest of the Aurors that stood in the middle of the room still searching the ceiling for a Connor-shaped blur. “Er…people? He’s over here now.” He pointed at Connor and shook his head in mock reproach. “And he stole the Minister’s hat.”
Fudge clapped a hand to his head and yelped as he realised his hat was several feet away from where it should be. “How dare you? Of all the insolent, disrespectful…”
Ron snorted and snatched the hat from Connor’s head and tossed it across the room. “Alright, mate, steady on. It’s only a bloody hat.”
Kit leaned forward and peered at the offending garment. “And it’s an ugly hat.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I’d be thanking someone if they stole it from me!”
Fudge spluttered angrily. “I have never been so insulted in all my life! You…”
“Really? Never?” Draco looked up in hurt surprise and then smirked. “Note to self: Must try harder.”
Connor looked down to where the hat lay on the floor and pressed a quick kiss to Dawn’s smiling mouth. “I thought it was kinda cool.”
*is dead* Peace engulfed them. For five minutes. Before a door along the hallway opened and soft footsteps padded past, moving in the direction of the stairs. They stopped, paused, returned, and there was a tap on the door.
“Going to the kitchen for a drink, want anything?”
“We’re asleep,” Spike assured him. “Fast asleep.”
“Yeah, right.” More footsteps as the voice faded. “God, I hope you guys are finished for the night. And you could at least supply an inflatable sheep or something.”
*is dead from the laughing* Xander is trying to prove to Spike, who has lost his memory, that Spike is still evil, even with the chip.
“Don’t see how having sex with a robot Buffy while you watched makes me evil. Makes me kinky, though. Makes you kinky, too.”
“I did not watch you have sex with...oh, never mind.” Frustrated, Xander thought for a moment. “You betrayed us to Adam! Ha! You are evil! You are so evil!”
“Who’s Adam?” said Spike, interrupting the victory dance that Xander was currently doing around his living room.
“Adam was created by the government. He was really smart and wanted to use an army to take over the world.”
“Oh.” Spike thought for a moment. “Like that git on television. Rumsfield.”
“No, not like Rumsfield.”
“Wait, you said he was government. Maybe I’m not evil. Maybe I’m patriotic,” Spike said.
“You’re not patriotic, you’re evil. Besides, you’re British.”
The redhead sighed, mumbling, “Sometimes distractions are not so good.” Looking around, she tried to find the source of the sound. “What is that? It sounds like…like…the Indiana Jones theme song,” she stated, her face scrunching up in confusion.
“That’s my cell phone,” Angel admitted, standing up and smiling sheepishly. “I liked that ring tone.”
Sweet Demise by Jennnillu Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Slamming into the dresser next to Willow’s bed, Spike quickly pulled himself up, reaching out and grabbing the book from earlier. Quickly flipping to the correct page, the vampire began to read the words of the spell aloud.
Xander had now moved to Buffy’s side, trying to keep one eye on Willow, who was still huddled on the bed, but both he and the slayer stopped as they heard Spike reading the unfamiliar language.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Buffy yelled. “No chanting without permission!”
Sweet Demise by Jennnillu Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Roswellian Quotes Ive been collecting quotes from roswell fanfic for a long time! a bunch are posted at my roswell site, actually. im excited that this community is here, because now i can annoy others!
random selection:
Damn those aliens. I cant even do crazy like a normal person. - Maria "Lavender Walls" by Buggabboo
"Hey. You're here and we're - naked. Lizzie ...can we have a moment?" -Maria to Liz, "Red Flag Warning" by Wendy
"So, we’re human, right?" asked Alex, who received silence in reply. "And they’re…not, but they *look* human, right?" Again, silence. "So, if we eat them, does that constitute cannibalacy?" -Alex to Liz, Maria, "Guerin-DeLuca Round Robin" by the Guerin -DeLuca mailing list
At the risk of self-promotion, this is from my AU (alternate Universe) fic "Amazing Spiderwoman". I just think its really, really funny.
***
"I do not think I'm funny," Naru said and assumed a snobbish expression. "I'm friggin hilarious."
"You're friggin something anyway," Usagi said.
"Bite me!"
"Later, sweetie," Usagi said with a straight face and then rested her elbows on Shinohara and Ami's heads. "Now considering this is a first date, I'm willing to overlook hand holding or arms around shoulders. But..." She leaned closer to Shinohara. "If that hand of yours even thinks about going even a millimeter below the armrest on her side..."
"Something Not Nice will happen," Naru said.
"Bad, icky, something," Usagi said, nodding solemnly. "The race of hyperintelligent cockroaches that will succeed humanity as the planet's dominant lifeform will look back at those things and decide that death by the Great Foot In The Sky was not that bad in comparison."
"Even Tom Green will cringe in horror."
"Right." Usagi turned her head to stare at Naru. "Who the hell is Tom Green?"
"Who cares?"
"Good point." Usagi swiped a handful of popcorn from the bag in Ami's hand as the lights began to dim. "Have fun, lovebirds."
Current Mood:Pirates are cool. Ninjas are cool. Therefore, TMNT 3 is the coolest movie ever.
amused
sleepy
cold
pensive
*dead*