Seriously, why won't my brain work?
I had like. Actual thoughts and things. But my brain is apparently dead right now. So, instead, memes!
Name a fandom and I'll tell you which character I'd most likely:
want as my mentor:
bake cupcakes for:
lend my books to:
put thumbtacks on the chair thereof:
have a crush on:
pack up and leave if they moved next door:
vote for president:
pick as my partner in a buddy movie:
marry:
want as my boss:
sue:
want as my best friend:
And another meme I haven't had cause to do in awhile, lol.
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion.
“Nah, but you know me. What do I care who lives and who dies?” Larry said, grinning wide and mean. “How about you, Michael? Do you have a problem with that?”
Michael glared. “It’s not like that.”
“Kid, it’s exactly like that,” Larry said. “You know what all this…bluster is about, right?”
“This is not blust-”
“You forget I’ve seen you angry,” he murmured, directly in his ear. “Thoroughly, destructively, gorgeously angry. This doesn’t compare. This is bluster. And it’s all because you don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed yourself out there with me.”
[Burn Notice, AU for Double Booked, Michael/Larry, eventual OT3]
“You’re telling me we have to sit through dinner with this guy?”
“You’re the one who came up with this plan.”
“That was before I knew being stuck in a Kazakhstani prison was more bearable.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Larry admitted. “We’ll kill the next guy?”
“We’d better.”
[Burn Notice, dark!Michael AU, Michael/Larry, Five Times Larry and Michael Had To Stop Themselves From Killing Someone (And One Time They Didn’t Bother)] Finished!
“Yeah,” he said, after a moment, picking up his glass and idly watching the clear liquid slosh around inside. “You could say that.” Holding up his glass in a toast gesture, he added, “To really awful exes with really awful timing,” and took a long drink.
“Cheers,” said a voice, from a few stools over. Neal glanced up and took in a fit-at least as fit as Peter, probably more so-handsome guy with short dark hair. He had on a suit-was that Armani?-but no tie, and looked like he, too, had just had A Day.
[Burn Notice/White Collar, respective hinted OT3s, total crack]
Neal has this dream, occasionally.
He’s had it on and off for at least two years now. It always starts the same way, with a knock at his door. He answers, and it’s always Peter, carrying beer and wine and a case file they need to go over.
Time skips ahead, as is so often the case in a dream, so the details of whatever dream-case they’re working on are never clear. It’s not important.
There’s always a lull in their work, a moment or two where they sit back and think. Peter picks up his beer bottle and brings it to his lips, taking a sip, and then he looks at him, really looks at him, and he says, “You and your suits.”
[White Collar, Neal/Peter, eventual OT3]
He could feel the eyes on them as soon as they walked into the reception hall. “Last chance to back out, save yourself the embarrassment.”
“Why the hell would I be embarrassed?” Tony asked, looking for all the world like Bruce had just told him two plus two equaled asparagus: there was complete, genuine confusion and lack of comprehension and even a little bit of dude, you need to check your math. “Not only am I criminally attractive and a certified genius, but I’ve also got the hottest and smartest guy in the room on my arm tonight. Face it, big man. We’re the complete package.”
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony]
“We’re going to watch a movie and mock all the bad science,” Tony said.
“No,” said Pepper. “We’re going to watch a movie and you’re going to mock all the bad science. I’m going to do my best to ignore you.”
“You love it,” he said, smirking, and looked back at Bruce. Pepper rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you should join us, it’ll be fun.”
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony/Pepper]
Occasionally, he’d corner him, pressing him against whatever happened to be nearby and kissing him in a way that had Tony groping his ass and trying to tug him to the nearest horizontal surface because holy shit, yes, yes, and more yes, please, sir, I want some more.
And, damn, there was a thought, because Bruce would be totally awesome at that, all softly growled orders and intense, scorching looks, and Tony would love it.
But then Bruce would pull back, smile slightly, and continue with whatever he’d been doing, leaving Tony wanting and overheated, delicious images of what they could do swimming around in his mind.
This went on for a month. It was the most frustrating four weeks of Tony’s life.
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony]
Tony Stark zaps him with a mini-electric wand, and Bruce smiles.
The smile is stiff and uncomfortable, like wearing a pressed shirt that’s been stuck in the back of a closet and forgotten about for months, but it’s genuine. There’s disbelief mixed in, when he meets Stark’s eyes, but he sees the sharp intelligence and the bright curiosity and he realizes that he’s not afraid at all.
It makes him feel like he’s been zapped again, and he forgets not to want, the long-neglected impulse almost making him dizzy.
The thought takes hold in his mind: You’re in trouble, Banner.
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony, to Stray Italian Greyhound]
"...Listen, ask JARVIS to show you some clips if you don’t believe me, but Stephen Colbert could fill up a couple encyclopedias about repression. Trust me when I say he wants you to do terrible, unspeakable, utterly filthy things to him.”
“That was an interesting place to come into this conversation,” Bruce noted, sidling up to the table.
Tony grinned. “Stephen Colbert,” he said, and Bruce merely nodded as though that explained everything. “Tell him I’m right, big man. The guy just wants to get on his knees and serve his country-”
“Tony.”
“Mm, if only for the good of America,” Bruce agreed.
[Avengers/TCR, Steve/Tony/Bruce/Pepper because why not, probably also Jon/"Stephen"]
Sending a trick shot into the heart of one of the more difficult targets, Clint grinned widely. It was things like this that made him think he’d really regret having to shoot Tony if he ever gave into the goatee and went supervillain on them all.
Of course, he reasoned, Tony would have to talk Bruce into going with him before that would ever happen, so Clint was pretty sure they were safe. Good thing, too-supervillain-Bruce was a terrifying prospect, and not just because of the Hulk. Tony and Bruce could do a lot of evil if they ever put their minds to it, he was sure of that.
[Avengers/Sherlock, co-written with Geena, at least if Pepper and Thor ever decide to cooperate the bastards, Tony/Pepper, eventual concurrent Tony/Bruce]
Steve smiled back. “I’m glad I got to meet you too, Sam. You’ve made tonight a lot better than I thought it would be.”
He sternly told himself not to smile stupidly in response to that, but it didn’t seem to do him any good.
“And I know this might be out of nowhere,” Steve continued, “but, um, would you-like go out sometime?” He blushed faintly as he said it. It shouldn’t have been that attractive.
It really, really was.
“On a date?” he asked, stupidly, because that was his M.O. tonight, apparently.
[Avengers/The West Wing, Steve/Sam, Josh/Donna, possibly other pairings idk]
Suzanne reflects, with some amusement, that playing the part of the embittered, cheated-on wife is so much simpler when everyone else sticks to their neatly assigned roles.
This is where her mother would affect surprise, could she see her now. Goodness, Suzanne, she would say, being a politician’s wife has made you so cynical.
(Of course, it hasn’t. Suzanne has known the measure of men, especially powerful men, since the age of eight, when her father left them. It’s simply her tragedy that she hasn’t avoided making the same mistakes, but she thinks she can at least not let those mistakes warp reality around them.)
[The West Wing, Suzanne Hoynes centric, idek I just really like deconstructing adultery tropes]
"Did you say Bartlet?" the Doctor asked, suddenly breaking into a maniacal grin. "Josiah Bartlet? And we're in New Hampshire." He grinned somehow impossibly wider. "Fantastic!"
"How did you know my full name?" Jed asked, torn between worried and impossibly curious.
"He knows all sorts of things," Rose replied, then rolled her eyes. "Don't expect him to explain it all, though, at least not unless the world's about to end. Sometimes not even then."
[The West Wing/Doctor Who, Jed meets Nine, Ten, and Eleven at various points in his life]
“Canton, stop asking for personal details! You know better than that!” called the Doctor, suddenly, from where Aaron was trying to get him to give a straight answer to at least one question. Given the frustrated look on Aaron’s face, he wasn’t succeeding.
“I didn’t ask,” he called back, annoyed, but the Doctor shook his head.
“James, go make sure your husband isn’t creating a temporal snarl in space-time that might rip a Belgium-sized hole in the fabric of reality.”
“Belgium-sized?” Prentiss asked quizzically.
“There’s precedent,” he said absently.
[Criminal Minds/Doctor Who, Hotch/Rossi, Canton/husband, idek sometimes]
“Yeah, yeah, I think there’s something underhanded going on here.”
“Your title’s been usurped. Deal with it.”
Prentiss and Morgan exchanged an amused look as they overheard this conversation. “What’s going on?” she asked, falling into stride with them, Morgan right beside her.
“Jack has decided that I’m the better storyteller,” Rossi said, smugly. “Clearly, a kid with vision. Aaron isn’t taking it well.”
“I haven’t ruled out bribery.”
[Criminal Minds, Hotch/Rossi, Ten Final Scenes at Continuing Stages of Domesticity]
He’d never been kissed like that in his life, had never really thought too hard about wanting to be. It’d always seemed safer that way, not to question why he had never actually experienced the heated, desperate passion prevalent in Shakespeare’s work, why he had always wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if something was missing.
Howard liked safe. He was good at safe. He knew what to do with safe.
That kiss had been anything but safe. He blushed at the memory.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re adorable when you blush?”
[In & Out, of all things, because apparently I'm writing fic for a 15-year-old movie now, Howard/Peter]
This entry was originally posted at http://sarcasticsra.dreamwidth.org/326698.html. Please comment there.
Name a fandom and I'll tell you which character I'd most likely:
want as my mentor:
bake cupcakes for:
lend my books to:
put thumbtacks on the chair thereof:
have a crush on:
pack up and leave if they moved next door:
vote for president:
pick as my partner in a buddy movie:
marry:
want as my boss:
sue:
want as my best friend:
And another meme I haven't had cause to do in awhile, lol.
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion.
“Nah, but you know me. What do I care who lives and who dies?” Larry said, grinning wide and mean. “How about you, Michael? Do you have a problem with that?”
Michael glared. “It’s not like that.”
“Kid, it’s exactly like that,” Larry said. “You know what all this…bluster is about, right?”
“This is not blust-”
“You forget I’ve seen you angry,” he murmured, directly in his ear. “Thoroughly, destructively, gorgeously angry. This doesn’t compare. This is bluster. And it’s all because you don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed yourself out there with me.”
[Burn Notice, AU for Double Booked, Michael/Larry, eventual OT3]
“You’re telling me we have to sit through dinner with this guy?”
“You’re the one who came up with this plan.”
“That was before I knew being stuck in a Kazakhstani prison was more bearable.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Larry admitted. “We’ll kill the next guy?”
“We’d better.”
[Burn Notice, dark!Michael AU, Michael/Larry, Five Times Larry and Michael Had To Stop Themselves From Killing Someone (And One Time They Didn’t Bother)] Finished!
“Yeah,” he said, after a moment, picking up his glass and idly watching the clear liquid slosh around inside. “You could say that.” Holding up his glass in a toast gesture, he added, “To really awful exes with really awful timing,” and took a long drink.
“Cheers,” said a voice, from a few stools over. Neal glanced up and took in a fit-at least as fit as Peter, probably more so-handsome guy with short dark hair. He had on a suit-was that Armani?-but no tie, and looked like he, too, had just had A Day.
[Burn Notice/White Collar, respective hinted OT3s, total crack]
Neal has this dream, occasionally.
He’s had it on and off for at least two years now. It always starts the same way, with a knock at his door. He answers, and it’s always Peter, carrying beer and wine and a case file they need to go over.
Time skips ahead, as is so often the case in a dream, so the details of whatever dream-case they’re working on are never clear. It’s not important.
There’s always a lull in their work, a moment or two where they sit back and think. Peter picks up his beer bottle and brings it to his lips, taking a sip, and then he looks at him, really looks at him, and he says, “You and your suits.”
[White Collar, Neal/Peter, eventual OT3]
He could feel the eyes on them as soon as they walked into the reception hall. “Last chance to back out, save yourself the embarrassment.”
“Why the hell would I be embarrassed?” Tony asked, looking for all the world like Bruce had just told him two plus two equaled asparagus: there was complete, genuine confusion and lack of comprehension and even a little bit of dude, you need to check your math. “Not only am I criminally attractive and a certified genius, but I’ve also got the hottest and smartest guy in the room on my arm tonight. Face it, big man. We’re the complete package.”
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony]
“We’re going to watch a movie and mock all the bad science,” Tony said.
“No,” said Pepper. “We’re going to watch a movie and you’re going to mock all the bad science. I’m going to do my best to ignore you.”
“You love it,” he said, smirking, and looked back at Bruce. Pepper rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you should join us, it’ll be fun.”
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony/Pepper]
Occasionally, he’d corner him, pressing him against whatever happened to be nearby and kissing him in a way that had Tony groping his ass and trying to tug him to the nearest horizontal surface because holy shit, yes, yes, and more yes, please, sir, I want some more.
And, damn, there was a thought, because Bruce would be totally awesome at that, all softly growled orders and intense, scorching looks, and Tony would love it.
But then Bruce would pull back, smile slightly, and continue with whatever he’d been doing, leaving Tony wanting and overheated, delicious images of what they could do swimming around in his mind.
This went on for a month. It was the most frustrating four weeks of Tony’s life.
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony]
Tony Stark zaps him with a mini-electric wand, and Bruce smiles.
The smile is stiff and uncomfortable, like wearing a pressed shirt that’s been stuck in the back of a closet and forgotten about for months, but it’s genuine. There’s disbelief mixed in, when he meets Stark’s eyes, but he sees the sharp intelligence and the bright curiosity and he realizes that he’s not afraid at all.
It makes him feel like he’s been zapped again, and he forgets not to want, the long-neglected impulse almost making him dizzy.
The thought takes hold in his mind: You’re in trouble, Banner.
[Avengers, Bruce/Tony, to Stray Italian Greyhound]
"...Listen, ask JARVIS to show you some clips if you don’t believe me, but Stephen Colbert could fill up a couple encyclopedias about repression. Trust me when I say he wants you to do terrible, unspeakable, utterly filthy things to him.”
“That was an interesting place to come into this conversation,” Bruce noted, sidling up to the table.
Tony grinned. “Stephen Colbert,” he said, and Bruce merely nodded as though that explained everything. “Tell him I’m right, big man. The guy just wants to get on his knees and serve his country-”
“Tony.”
“Mm, if only for the good of America,” Bruce agreed.
[Avengers/TCR, Steve/Tony/Bruce/Pepper because why not, probably also Jon/"Stephen"]
Sending a trick shot into the heart of one of the more difficult targets, Clint grinned widely. It was things like this that made him think he’d really regret having to shoot Tony if he ever gave into the goatee and went supervillain on them all.
Of course, he reasoned, Tony would have to talk Bruce into going with him before that would ever happen, so Clint was pretty sure they were safe. Good thing, too-supervillain-Bruce was a terrifying prospect, and not just because of the Hulk. Tony and Bruce could do a lot of evil if they ever put their minds to it, he was sure of that.
[Avengers/Sherlock, co-written with Geena, at least if Pepper and Thor ever decide to cooperate the bastards, Tony/Pepper, eventual concurrent Tony/Bruce]
Steve smiled back. “I’m glad I got to meet you too, Sam. You’ve made tonight a lot better than I thought it would be.”
He sternly told himself not to smile stupidly in response to that, but it didn’t seem to do him any good.
“And I know this might be out of nowhere,” Steve continued, “but, um, would you-like go out sometime?” He blushed faintly as he said it. It shouldn’t have been that attractive.
It really, really was.
“On a date?” he asked, stupidly, because that was his M.O. tonight, apparently.
[Avengers/The West Wing, Steve/Sam, Josh/Donna, possibly other pairings idk]
Suzanne reflects, with some amusement, that playing the part of the embittered, cheated-on wife is so much simpler when everyone else sticks to their neatly assigned roles.
This is where her mother would affect surprise, could she see her now. Goodness, Suzanne, she would say, being a politician’s wife has made you so cynical.
(Of course, it hasn’t. Suzanne has known the measure of men, especially powerful men, since the age of eight, when her father left them. It’s simply her tragedy that she hasn’t avoided making the same mistakes, but she thinks she can at least not let those mistakes warp reality around them.)
[The West Wing, Suzanne Hoynes centric, idek I just really like deconstructing adultery tropes]
"Did you say Bartlet?" the Doctor asked, suddenly breaking into a maniacal grin. "Josiah Bartlet? And we're in New Hampshire." He grinned somehow impossibly wider. "Fantastic!"
"How did you know my full name?" Jed asked, torn between worried and impossibly curious.
"He knows all sorts of things," Rose replied, then rolled her eyes. "Don't expect him to explain it all, though, at least not unless the world's about to end. Sometimes not even then."
[The West Wing/Doctor Who, Jed meets Nine, Ten, and Eleven at various points in his life]
“Canton, stop asking for personal details! You know better than that!” called the Doctor, suddenly, from where Aaron was trying to get him to give a straight answer to at least one question. Given the frustrated look on Aaron’s face, he wasn’t succeeding.
“I didn’t ask,” he called back, annoyed, but the Doctor shook his head.
“James, go make sure your husband isn’t creating a temporal snarl in space-time that might rip a Belgium-sized hole in the fabric of reality.”
“Belgium-sized?” Prentiss asked quizzically.
“There’s precedent,” he said absently.
[Criminal Minds/Doctor Who, Hotch/Rossi, Canton/husband, idek sometimes]
“Yeah, yeah, I think there’s something underhanded going on here.”
“Your title’s been usurped. Deal with it.”
Prentiss and Morgan exchanged an amused look as they overheard this conversation. “What’s going on?” she asked, falling into stride with them, Morgan right beside her.
“Jack has decided that I’m the better storyteller,” Rossi said, smugly. “Clearly, a kid with vision. Aaron isn’t taking it well.”
“I haven’t ruled out bribery.”
[Criminal Minds, Hotch/Rossi, Ten Final Scenes at Continuing Stages of Domesticity]
He’d never been kissed like that in his life, had never really thought too hard about wanting to be. It’d always seemed safer that way, not to question why he had never actually experienced the heated, desperate passion prevalent in Shakespeare’s work, why he had always wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if something was missing.
Howard liked safe. He was good at safe. He knew what to do with safe.
That kiss had been anything but safe. He blushed at the memory.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re adorable when you blush?”
[In & Out, of all things, because apparently I'm writing fic for a 15-year-old movie now, Howard/Peter]
This entry was originally posted at http://sarcasticsra.dreamwidth.org/326698.html. Please comment there.