various lists in various fandoms [fivethings]
The rest of blizzardseason's five things list -- which actually goes up to six, because I am clearly defective. OKAY OKAY NOW I GET BACK TO FICATHON PROMISE.
( Supernatural: Five things Sam never did in college, one of which Dean remedies. )
( KH/RPF: Four chance meetings between Demyx and Neil Gaiman, and one that ends rather better than expected. )
"Five sleazy passes which didn't work for Kon but worked perfectly for Tim." [Tim/Kon, PG, 235 words]
1. "Wanna see my Batarang?"
Self-explanatory. And the fact that when Starfire purred assent, Tim actually pulled out a batarang and shyly held it up for inspection, only made it worse.
2. "Was your father a gardener?"
Admittedly, Tim's version of the answer was "because not only insanity is hereditary!", as opposed to the usual, more flattering substitute, but Poison Ivy still laughed and pulled him in for a disturbingly hot kiss, which Kon finds to be supremely unfair.
3. "My dignity would look great on your floor."
You have to be really drunk to pull this off, and Tim definitely was. But while Wonder Woman didn't actually reciprocate, she didn't punch him in the face, either, which was better treatment than Kon had ever gotten, and therefore fit to be considered a resounding success.
4. "Quick, we have to make out now, or all of humanity will perish!"
Which is something only a superhero would ever be forced to say, only a Titan would consider a come-on, and only a Bat would actually, seriously mean. But Tim and Raven don't talk about that particular mission --and neither does anybody else, on pain of death.
5. "So, uh, I wanted to tell you that I mmph mm mmph --!"
Which, okay, didn't work for Tim, but it worked on him, and that, Kon decides around the Robin tongue currently licking at his mouth, is infinitely preferable.
"Five days of the year House hates more than anything else in the world." [Gen, G, 225 words]
1. Employee Evaluation Day, which changes dates but will forever remain on this list, simply by virtue of being the annual apex for Cuddy's fearsome wrath. It is the one day in which she realizes exactly how much of an incredible pain in the ass Greg House is -- and naturally, she's none too happy about it. He's not, you know, scared of her or anything, but that doesn't stop him from trying (unsuccessfully) to call in sick every time.
2. Wilson's anniversary, which also changes dates (depending on the current wife), but never changes Wilson, who is unerringly whiney and culpable and moping throughout. House finds it ridiculous that he has to suffer Wilson during his guilt trips, which he inflicts upon himself like clockwork -- because of course, Wilson spends every anniversary not with his wife, but with House.
3. Yom Kippur, because once Wilson stopped responding to House's urgent requests for a consult -- which, okay, were sort of an excuse to get him out of the synagogue, but still -- the holiday lost its charm, and became simply boring.
4. House's anniversary -- a day which exists for all the wrong reasons. He sits in his office, shutters drawn, throws his ball against the wall and remembers.
5. Valentine's Day, which originally didn't merit the Top Five, but was promoted after Cameron started sending him terrifying little heart-shaped notes with alarming frequency.
"Five things Wilson hates to see House doing, one with an ulterior motive." [House/Wilson, PG, 210 words]
1. Turning into an addict, right before his eyes.
2. Playing Chopin on the piano, which immediately signals something bad. House has a whole spectrum of nuances, like Morse code, ranging from the Op. 17 mazurkas -- somewhat melancholy -- to the Waltz Op. 69 No. 2, which Wilson has only ever heard him play five times in his life.
(But that's another story, for another list.)
3. Stealing his fries. One day, he swears, he's going to bribe the cook into slipping some arsenic in. God knows he won't have to pay much.
4. Talking to Stacy. There's so much baggage there, nothing but heartbreak and frustration, and between the two of them, Wilson is supposed to be the one who collects dismembered love affairs. He needs House to balance him, like yin and yang; he can't afford to let his best friend burden himself like this, because so far, they've been polar opposites -- but once House is going to start walking down Wilson's path, Wilson will be forced to look at where he's actually going.
5. Constantly trying to figure him out. Because Wilson's a sneaky bastard, he's got ulterior motives for everything -- but House is like Batman, he just won't give up, and he's determined to uncover all of Wilson's reasons, one by fucking one.
"Five things Delirium sometimes likes about Desire." [Gen, PG, 820 words]
1. Sometimes which means not all the time but just once in a while, Delirium talks with Desire and she gets all tongue-tied, all wound up and upside-down because her sister-brother is too much, like a big wave made of confusion and the now, which Delirium thinks might be the same thing.
Whenever Desire comes close she has to avert her eyes, because it smells funny, unlike any of her other sister-brothers -- who smell of wax and filth and angel-feathers ripped like little sun-spots -- but Desire never smells of anything tangible, just smells of lust and crave and want. It makes Delirium feel strange and tingly and her butterflies to fly up in a great big storm of albino phosphorous and surge into her stomach through her ears and make her drown in vitreous humor, gone down down down forever like a comet in reverse.
Sometimes she likes how it makes her feel, and sometimes she doesn't. So she runs away, faster fastest furious until her doggy grips her ankles gently between his teeth, but she still takes big deep breaths, to remind herself of the smell, of drowning.
2. Delirium loves her followers, really she does, loves their dementia and their imaginary friends and the dirt beneath their fingernails. And whenever she walks among them, she sees signs of Desire's handiwork, where this one went mad because of unrequited love and this one is homeless for want of a shelter and this one is high on drugs, gorgeous and broken and whispering more, more, more. And she knows, whenever Desire takes its subjects too far and gets bored with them and tosses them aside, then they are Delirium's, for her to play with and talk to and plait their dirty hair. And when Delirium is through with them, they walk on to Despair, hair floating in a rainbow cloud of braided snakes, and from there, the only way is Death.
Sometimes Delirium gets people with too much light in their eyes, or none at all, softly bleeding rose-petal lips and arms carved with words like love you or come home or sister-brother says hello. She doesn't know if Desire sends messages to all its siblings in this method, or if she is special, but somehow, those people last longer than the rest.
3. Once when Delirium used to take on Desire's hubris, she was like a fairy, adopting kittens and puppies and tiny black widows and giving them all better, nicer homes. She was Delight -- gratification, ecstasy, the light at the end of the tunnel. She was sunshine and true love and enlightenment reached through trials of blazing fire. She was Desire fulfilled, and she was divine.
Nowadays, she is Delirium, which means more fishies but also less happiness even though it sometimes sneaks up on her in the form of nail polish and heliotrope. Delirium is Desire unfulfilled, is an itch you just can't scratch which scabs over and rips apart at the seams bleeding long veins and rivers of churning maggots, is polyester and band-aids and thoughts hiding in the crevices of your brain, right behind your cornea where you can never reach but where they say the gate to heaven is.
All her stories end up sad, now.
They are closer these days, more intimate than before -- they work together longer. Delirium means the itch keeps on itching, while Delight is just a good, long scratch.
She likes it better this way, she thinks -- except for some days, when it makes her sad.
4. Desire has the prettiest fish, arrayed around its head like a nimbus or flocks of Kadishman sheep. Sometimes its fish are Kadishman sheep -- but this happens rarely, and only in famous art galleries. The fish are always beautiful, always dreadful and inviting and they make Delirium wants to pluck them out of the air and crunch them between her teeth, like chilled suicides on ice.
She likes it best -- she thinks, not always, just maybe if the temperature is dawn -- when Desire's fish glitter like her own wishes, reflecting the darkness and becoming days of wine and hands unfolding. One fish is a deck of cards, and she shuffles through it, searching for the Queen, except all the spades scream at her to go away and then they turn into bleeding hearts and she has to summon up an expired moon-crater to swallow them up.
Desire usually has so many fish surrounding it -- some are tequilas, some are generosity, and some aren't fish at all. But no matter the number, Desire always has a bouquet of small, red flowers fluttering around its head, shedding petals like drops of bl -- of memory. And sometimes, Delirium wonders why.
5. She wants it. It is only natural, considering their functions and their shared history. But Delirium still doesn't know how she feels about the fact, and is slightly perturbed at the thought that Desire probably does.
( Supernatural: Five things Sam never did in college, one of which Dean remedies. )
( KH/RPF: Four chance meetings between Demyx and Neil Gaiman, and one that ends rather better than expected. )
"Five sleazy passes which didn't work for Kon but worked perfectly for Tim." [Tim/Kon, PG, 235 words]
1. "Wanna see my Batarang?"
Self-explanatory. And the fact that when Starfire purred assent, Tim actually pulled out a batarang and shyly held it up for inspection, only made it worse.
2. "Was your father a gardener?"
Admittedly, Tim's version of the answer was "because not only insanity is hereditary!", as opposed to the usual, more flattering substitute, but Poison Ivy still laughed and pulled him in for a disturbingly hot kiss, which Kon finds to be supremely unfair.
3. "My dignity would look great on your floor."
You have to be really drunk to pull this off, and Tim definitely was. But while Wonder Woman didn't actually reciprocate, she didn't punch him in the face, either, which was better treatment than Kon had ever gotten, and therefore fit to be considered a resounding success.
4. "Quick, we have to make out now, or all of humanity will perish!"
Which is something only a superhero would ever be forced to say, only a Titan would consider a come-on, and only a Bat would actually, seriously mean. But Tim and Raven don't talk about that particular mission --and neither does anybody else, on pain of death.
5. "So, uh, I wanted to tell you that I mmph mm mmph --!"
Which, okay, didn't work for Tim, but it worked on him, and that, Kon decides around the Robin tongue currently licking at his mouth, is infinitely preferable.
"Five days of the year House hates more than anything else in the world." [Gen, G, 225 words]
1. Employee Evaluation Day, which changes dates but will forever remain on this list, simply by virtue of being the annual apex for Cuddy's fearsome wrath. It is the one day in which she realizes exactly how much of an incredible pain in the ass Greg House is -- and naturally, she's none too happy about it. He's not, you know, scared of her or anything, but that doesn't stop him from trying (unsuccessfully) to call in sick every time.
2. Wilson's anniversary, which also changes dates (depending on the current wife), but never changes Wilson, who is unerringly whiney and culpable and moping throughout. House finds it ridiculous that he has to suffer Wilson during his guilt trips, which he inflicts upon himself like clockwork -- because of course, Wilson spends every anniversary not with his wife, but with House.
3. Yom Kippur, because once Wilson stopped responding to House's urgent requests for a consult -- which, okay, were sort of an excuse to get him out of the synagogue, but still -- the holiday lost its charm, and became simply boring.
4. House's anniversary -- a day which exists for all the wrong reasons. He sits in his office, shutters drawn, throws his ball against the wall and remembers.
5. Valentine's Day, which originally didn't merit the Top Five, but was promoted after Cameron started sending him terrifying little heart-shaped notes with alarming frequency.
"Five things Wilson hates to see House doing, one with an ulterior motive." [House/Wilson, PG, 210 words]
1. Turning into an addict, right before his eyes.
2. Playing Chopin on the piano, which immediately signals something bad. House has a whole spectrum of nuances, like Morse code, ranging from the Op. 17 mazurkas -- somewhat melancholy -- to the Waltz Op. 69 No. 2, which Wilson has only ever heard him play five times in his life.
(But that's another story, for another list.)
3. Stealing his fries. One day, he swears, he's going to bribe the cook into slipping some arsenic in. God knows he won't have to pay much.
4. Talking to Stacy. There's so much baggage there, nothing but heartbreak and frustration, and between the two of them, Wilson is supposed to be the one who collects dismembered love affairs. He needs House to balance him, like yin and yang; he can't afford to let his best friend burden himself like this, because so far, they've been polar opposites -- but once House is going to start walking down Wilson's path, Wilson will be forced to look at where he's actually going.
5. Constantly trying to figure him out. Because Wilson's a sneaky bastard, he's got ulterior motives for everything -- but House is like Batman, he just won't give up, and he's determined to uncover all of Wilson's reasons, one by fucking one.
"Five things Delirium sometimes likes about Desire." [Gen, PG, 820 words]
1. Sometimes which means not all the time but just once in a while, Delirium talks with Desire and she gets all tongue-tied, all wound up and upside-down because her sister-brother is too much, like a big wave made of confusion and the now, which Delirium thinks might be the same thing.
Whenever Desire comes close she has to avert her eyes, because it smells funny, unlike any of her other sister-brothers -- who smell of wax and filth and angel-feathers ripped like little sun-spots -- but Desire never smells of anything tangible, just smells of lust and crave and want. It makes Delirium feel strange and tingly and her butterflies to fly up in a great big storm of albino phosphorous and surge into her stomach through her ears and make her drown in vitreous humor, gone down down down forever like a comet in reverse.
Sometimes she likes how it makes her feel, and sometimes she doesn't. So she runs away, faster fastest furious until her doggy grips her ankles gently between his teeth, but she still takes big deep breaths, to remind herself of the smell, of drowning.
2. Delirium loves her followers, really she does, loves their dementia and their imaginary friends and the dirt beneath their fingernails. And whenever she walks among them, she sees signs of Desire's handiwork, where this one went mad because of unrequited love and this one is homeless for want of a shelter and this one is high on drugs, gorgeous and broken and whispering more, more, more. And she knows, whenever Desire takes its subjects too far and gets bored with them and tosses them aside, then they are Delirium's, for her to play with and talk to and plait their dirty hair. And when Delirium is through with them, they walk on to Despair, hair floating in a rainbow cloud of braided snakes, and from there, the only way is Death.
Sometimes Delirium gets people with too much light in their eyes, or none at all, softly bleeding rose-petal lips and arms carved with words like love you or come home or sister-brother says hello. She doesn't know if Desire sends messages to all its siblings in this method, or if she is special, but somehow, those people last longer than the rest.
3. Once when Delirium used to take on Desire's hubris, she was like a fairy, adopting kittens and puppies and tiny black widows and giving them all better, nicer homes. She was Delight -- gratification, ecstasy, the light at the end of the tunnel. She was sunshine and true love and enlightenment reached through trials of blazing fire. She was Desire fulfilled, and she was divine.
Nowadays, she is Delirium, which means more fishies but also less happiness even though it sometimes sneaks up on her in the form of nail polish and heliotrope. Delirium is Desire unfulfilled, is an itch you just can't scratch which scabs over and rips apart at the seams bleeding long veins and rivers of churning maggots, is polyester and band-aids and thoughts hiding in the crevices of your brain, right behind your cornea where you can never reach but where they say the gate to heaven is.
All her stories end up sad, now.
They are closer these days, more intimate than before -- they work together longer. Delirium means the itch keeps on itching, while Delight is just a good, long scratch.
She likes it better this way, she thinks -- except for some days, when it makes her sad.
4. Desire has the prettiest fish, arrayed around its head like a nimbus or flocks of Kadishman sheep. Sometimes its fish are Kadishman sheep -- but this happens rarely, and only in famous art galleries. The fish are always beautiful, always dreadful and inviting and they make Delirium wants to pluck them out of the air and crunch them between her teeth, like chilled suicides on ice.
She likes it best -- she thinks, not always, just maybe if the temperature is dawn -- when Desire's fish glitter like her own wishes, reflecting the darkness and becoming days of wine and hands unfolding. One fish is a deck of cards, and she shuffles through it, searching for the Queen, except all the spades scream at her to go away and then they turn into bleeding hearts and she has to summon up an expired moon-crater to swallow them up.
Desire usually has so many fish surrounding it -- some are tequilas, some are generosity, and some aren't fish at all. But no matter the number, Desire always has a bouquet of small, red flowers fluttering around its head, shedding petals like drops of bl -- of memory. And sometimes, Delirium wonders why.
5. She wants it. It is only natural, considering their functions and their shared history. But Delirium still doesn't know how she feels about the fact, and is slightly perturbed at the thought that Desire probably does.