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My Onion horoscope, which knows of my writing woes: Crackling with the warmth of the season, a yuletide fire will quickly consume your helpless flesh.
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giandujakiss: I want to know what happened after the last two things in your Three Answers story. Either one, or both, will do!
After the third: Dean found the poppet. It took him a while, researching on the sly, to figure out everything that it did. In fact, he stopped looking for a while after he found out about its physically protective effects, in lieu of collecting similar materials so that he could do the same for Sam. But when he was making Sam’s, some obvious differences between the one he was constructing and the one Sam had hidden away were too hard to ignore, so he started looking again.
He knew he ought to be angry.
But really, he was grateful. And no matter the source of that gratitude, it was in him now, it was him, so he accepted it.
He always thought he’d tell Sam what he knew someday, but he never did.
forchase820: What would a plastic surgery consultation between Christian Troy and Lex Luthor sound like? I know Lex needs periodic maintenance, what with all the lingering side-effects of the meteor. I could see him traveling someplace out of the way to have it done, so Papa Luthor wouldn't catch on and see it as weakness.
“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself,” Christian said to the striking young man sitting across from him. He knew the name, vaguely, from occasional appearances in the tabloids. Rich and spoiled, was his general impression. No visible previous surgeries.
“I was exposed to radiation as a child,” Lex Luthor said without preamble. “Occasionally I still develop lesions and nodules. I have several that have shown up in my genital area, and I need them removed.”
Christian looked at him more carefully. Baldness aside, he didn’t have the wan look of a cancer patient. “Radiation?” he prompted.
“An exotic form. Unless you’re a physicist, it really doesn’t matter. I need an expert plastic surgeon. I’d really prefer not to have any … impairment in that area.”
Christian shrugged. “Let’s take a look.”
Mr. Luthor stood. “Before we begin, I’ll need a nondisclosure agreement.”
“That’s standard, of course.”
“What’s not standard is that my father will likely offer you a substantial sum for pictures.”
“Your father wants pictures of your dick?” Christian asked, trying not to be surprised that he could still be surprised.
Mr. Luthor twitched his lips. “My deformity. He’s had plenty of opportunity to see the rest of the package. My point is this: Don’t throw in with him. He’ll blackmail you with the breach of trust, and I’ll match any amount he offers.”
Christian had the feeling that this was not exactly a carrot and a stick, but rather two sticks of uncertain length. Still, he needed the money. “I’m sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
“Well, then,” Mr. Luthor said, putting his hands to his belt, “let’s get started.”
forladyagnew: Dean Winchester and Rabbi Simcha. They fight crime demons.
“Any time now!” Dean gritted. The kilbit’s razor-sharp scales had cut his jacket and shirt so he looked like a snake shedding its skin, and he was having a hard time holding it down.
“Sorry, sorry!” she said, flipping through the pages. “This is pretty heavily annotated …”
“Who annotates a freakin’ spellbook?” Dean complained, throwing his whole body on the evil, evil-smelling fishy thing. “And do not start in on your scholarly traditions again.”
But she’d finally started singing – it was always a melody with her – so he shut up and held on.
forshiba_inu: You just know that Lex, at some point, is going to attempt to breed a Kryptonian. Since the only possible male/female pair are cousins this opens a whole big box o' angst...
The human/Kryptonian hybrid program had been a qualified success – success in that they had one, ten years and billions of dollars later; qualified in that he wasn’t exactly under their control, and no one should have expected that he would be.
Lex had greater ambitions than raising a supersoldier in a lab.
When the doctors wheeled the twins out in their heated cribs for his inspection, for a moment he considered not even looking; he’d seen the scans from in utero enough times. But then curiosity got the better of him, and he stared into the girl’s wide-awake eyes, as blue and still as a chlorined pool. She stared back, her eyes clear of any judgment.
The boy was asleep; he turned his head and his eyes screwed up, but he didn’t cry.
Lex smiled. Superman would suspect some devious design on his part, of course, but it would never occur to him that the children were full Kryptonians, simply because of how he’d been raised. It was lucky for Lex that Clark had never had much interest in history, had tuned out Lex’s discussions of the great Egyptian and European dynasties, the in-marriage that had initially sustained and only later weakened them.
Let his son and daughter breed hybrids, if they so chose. Lex had made something pure.
forharriet_spy: BTVS, "the future is unwritten."
“I’m just saying, I don’t see how she can slay with her hair covered,” Buffy said, totally reasonably.
“And she doesn’t see how you can slay in a skirt that short,” Willow responded, waving her hand in a way that Buffy guessed had something to do with hemming. “Respect her cultural traditions, and let’s just be happy nobody here insists on full chador.”
Buffy decided she didn’t even want to know what that was. “Fine.” They continued along the hall – she was never going to get used to living in a castle; it was like commuting to work without the driving, fifteen minutes door to door wherever you wanted to go.
“She’s the last, you know.” Willow spoke quickly, as if she were admitting an embarrassing fact.
“The last?”
“The last of the former Potentials to find us. There aren’t any more. I scried.”
Buffy stopped walking, and Willow followed suit. “Wow.”
“Wow,” Willow agreed. They were standing in front of a portrait of some old guy, looking down at them disapprovingly.
“So what happens now?”
Willow shrugged. “I guess the world is going to have to figure out how to live without Slayers.”
“Hey! Still here!” Buffy objected.
“You know what I mean,” Willow said, and then grabbed Buffy into a hug, which Buffy returned with bemusement. “It’s going to be okay,” she said into Buffy’s shoulder.
Buffy patted Willow’s neck. “I know,” she said, thinking about all the girls who were going to be able to choose for themselves how they wanted to save the world.
fornestra: Scarecrow (Ambrose)/Tin Man (Cain)
Azkadellia was the first to pull away from the embrace. She looked over at DG’s companions, then turned quickly away, moving to the edge of the balcony to stare down at the O.Z. spread before them.
Cain imagined what it had been like for her, trapped inside a cage of her own flesh, forced to watch while horrible things were done in her name. For him, it was over; for her – her name was a curseword, and not everyone in the O.Z. would have the benefit of DG’s explanation, or want to believe it if they heard.
Ambrose patted him on the arm. “We should get out of here,” he suggested. “Let them have their reunion.”
He looked at Ambrose and twitched his lips. “Speaking of reunion –”
Ambrose put a hand to his head, his fingertips snagging against the head of the zipper. “Surgery in the morning! And then I’ll be Glitch-free.” He stared at Cain. “What? What is it?”
He tilted his head. “I wouldn’t be so keen to get rid of Glitch. He has his good points.”
Ambrose’s smile looked almost painful. “Really?
“Really,” he said, and readjusted his hat.
“Maybe …” Ambrose said, “maybe you could stick around, too. The queen will need experienced guards.”
The look he gave Cain was – Cain thought, in time, he’d be able to give it a name.
He thought he wanted to stay long enough to do so.
forjakrar: Nathan/Peter (note: ended up Nathan & Peter)
When he was sixteen, in one of his periodic fits of angst, Peter had accused Nathan of liking to see Peter screw up. “So you can make sure you’re the good one,” Peter had said, the words twisting up his mouth.
Shortly after that it was all ‘sorry’ and ‘I don’t know why I get like that,’ but Nathan thought both of them halfway believed Peter the first time.
It was hard to explain, how he could envy Peter his freedom and still not want any of what he saw in Peter’s world. Peter saw potential everywhere, but not the trash under his feet – not even when it was about to trip him up.
When they were kids, it was easy to tell himself he despised that and just wanted Peter to wise up and pay attention to the world, but Nathan’s got a better solution now.
As long as he can fly in when his brother needs him, Peter can ignore the obstacles in his way all he likes.
And, forshelbyg, because it was too good to pass up: The Polytheist BSG fleet arrives at earth during a decidedly monotheistic holiday
The short-haired woman who rose from the table when they entered had the jowly look of someone who’d once been plump. She was still nervous when Roslin waved her to sit, looking down at her folders, her pencils.
“We’ve asked Dr. Hennig not to write down any of her conclusions just yet,” Roslin told the others. “Obviously, any news about Earth will be explosive, but what she has to tell you is … shocking.”
She waited, then said gently, “Dr. Hennig?”
She coughed and glanced quickly around the assembled faces of the senior staff. “You have to understand, we’re working with limited information. It’s just me and three Classics majors, attempting to translate their languages –”
“Languages?” Adama asked.
“The peoples of Earth are neither politically nor linguistically united,” Dr. Hennig said quickly, as if that would mute the surprise. “We’ve identified two key language groups representing dominant population groups – for the moment, my team has split its focus.”
Tory and Roslin exchanged glances. Roslin leaned forward, lowering her voice so they all had to pay close attention. “People being what they are, we expect that our arrival will generate substantial political upheaval. We will be asked to take sides in existing controversies. And there’s more.”
Dr. Henning winced. “One group is, ah, officially atheistic. The other is –” she took a deep breath – “monotheistic. In fact, well over three billion of them are monotheists of one kind or another.”
“My Gods,” Adama said, just as Lee asked, “There are kinds?”
Roslin nodded. “We have to be prepared for the chance that the Cylons will find common cause with at least some of the people of Earth.” They each took a moment to think about the fact that the Cylons looked human now, and might be able to talk their way into seeming less alien than the twitchy, traumatized remnants of actual humanity. “In fact, Dr. Hennig informs me that they’re approaching a winter solstice festival at which they celebrate the arrival of a child of their god. Commander Adama, is there any way we can delay first contact until a better time?”
Adama paused, shook his head. “This push to Earth ate up our supplies. Even if the Cylons don’t find us, hunger will.”
Tigh laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “So we’re still frakked.”
Roslin closed her eyes for a second. “We face challenges. But we have some advantages. Dr. Hennig, Tory is going to add some communications specialists to your team. Your aim will be to find aspects of their religion -- religions,” she corrected herself – “that we can use to explain ourselves.”
Dr. Hennig nodded, her eyes already hazy. “I think – there’s something about travelers from far places that’s already part of the solstice ritual.”
“Good,” she said, though her tone was not happy. “Faith has brought us this far, ladies and gentleman. I will not allow it to betray us now.”
For
giandujakiss: I want to know what happened after the last two things in your Three Answers story. Either one, or both, will do!After the third: Dean found the poppet. It took him a while, researching on the sly, to figure out everything that it did. In fact, he stopped looking for a while after he found out about its physically protective effects, in lieu of collecting similar materials so that he could do the same for Sam. But when he was making Sam’s, some obvious differences between the one he was constructing and the one Sam had hidden away were too hard to ignore, so he started looking again.
He knew he ought to be angry.
But really, he was grateful. And no matter the source of that gratitude, it was in him now, it was him, so he accepted it.
He always thought he’d tell Sam what he knew someday, but he never did.
for
chase820: What would a plastic surgery consultation between Christian Troy and Lex Luthor sound like? I know Lex needs periodic maintenance, what with all the lingering side-effects of the meteor. I could see him traveling someplace out of the way to have it done, so Papa Luthor wouldn't catch on and see it as weakness.“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself,” Christian said to the striking young man sitting across from him. He knew the name, vaguely, from occasional appearances in the tabloids. Rich and spoiled, was his general impression. No visible previous surgeries.
“I was exposed to radiation as a child,” Lex Luthor said without preamble. “Occasionally I still develop lesions and nodules. I have several that have shown up in my genital area, and I need them removed.”
Christian looked at him more carefully. Baldness aside, he didn’t have the wan look of a cancer patient. “Radiation?” he prompted.
“An exotic form. Unless you’re a physicist, it really doesn’t matter. I need an expert plastic surgeon. I’d really prefer not to have any … impairment in that area.”
Christian shrugged. “Let’s take a look.”
Mr. Luthor stood. “Before we begin, I’ll need a nondisclosure agreement.”
“That’s standard, of course.”
“What’s not standard is that my father will likely offer you a substantial sum for pictures.”
“Your father wants pictures of your dick?” Christian asked, trying not to be surprised that he could still be surprised.
Mr. Luthor twitched his lips. “My deformity. He’s had plenty of opportunity to see the rest of the package. My point is this: Don’t throw in with him. He’ll blackmail you with the breach of trust, and I’ll match any amount he offers.”
Christian had the feeling that this was not exactly a carrot and a stick, but rather two sticks of uncertain length. Still, he needed the money. “I’m sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
“Well, then,” Mr. Luthor said, putting his hands to his belt, “let’s get started.”
for
ladyagnew: Dean Winchester and Rabbi Simcha. They fight “Any time now!” Dean gritted. The kilbit’s razor-sharp scales had cut his jacket and shirt so he looked like a snake shedding its skin, and he was having a hard time holding it down.
“Sorry, sorry!” she said, flipping through the pages. “This is pretty heavily annotated …”
“Who annotates a freakin’ spellbook?” Dean complained, throwing his whole body on the evil, evil-smelling fishy thing. “And do not start in on your scholarly traditions again.”
But she’d finally started singing – it was always a melody with her – so he shut up and held on.
for
shiba_inu: You just know that Lex, at some point, is going to attempt to breed a Kryptonian. Since the only possible male/female pair are cousins this opens a whole big box o' angst...The human/Kryptonian hybrid program had been a qualified success – success in that they had one, ten years and billions of dollars later; qualified in that he wasn’t exactly under their control, and no one should have expected that he would be.
Lex had greater ambitions than raising a supersoldier in a lab.
When the doctors wheeled the twins out in their heated cribs for his inspection, for a moment he considered not even looking; he’d seen the scans from in utero enough times. But then curiosity got the better of him, and he stared into the girl’s wide-awake eyes, as blue and still as a chlorined pool. She stared back, her eyes clear of any judgment.
The boy was asleep; he turned his head and his eyes screwed up, but he didn’t cry.
Lex smiled. Superman would suspect some devious design on his part, of course, but it would never occur to him that the children were full Kryptonians, simply because of how he’d been raised. It was lucky for Lex that Clark had never had much interest in history, had tuned out Lex’s discussions of the great Egyptian and European dynasties, the in-marriage that had initially sustained and only later weakened them.
Let his son and daughter breed hybrids, if they so chose. Lex had made something pure.
for
harriet_spy: BTVS, "the future is unwritten."“I’m just saying, I don’t see how she can slay with her hair covered,” Buffy said, totally reasonably.
“And she doesn’t see how you can slay in a skirt that short,” Willow responded, waving her hand in a way that Buffy guessed had something to do with hemming. “Respect her cultural traditions, and let’s just be happy nobody here insists on full chador.”
Buffy decided she didn’t even want to know what that was. “Fine.” They continued along the hall – she was never going to get used to living in a castle; it was like commuting to work without the driving, fifteen minutes door to door wherever you wanted to go.
“She’s the last, you know.” Willow spoke quickly, as if she were admitting an embarrassing fact.
“The last?”
“The last of the former Potentials to find us. There aren’t any more. I scried.”
Buffy stopped walking, and Willow followed suit. “Wow.”
“Wow,” Willow agreed. They were standing in front of a portrait of some old guy, looking down at them disapprovingly.
“So what happens now?”
Willow shrugged. “I guess the world is going to have to figure out how to live without Slayers.”
“Hey! Still here!” Buffy objected.
“You know what I mean,” Willow said, and then grabbed Buffy into a hug, which Buffy returned with bemusement. “It’s going to be okay,” she said into Buffy’s shoulder.
Buffy patted Willow’s neck. “I know,” she said, thinking about all the girls who were going to be able to choose for themselves how they wanted to save the world.
for
nestra: Scarecrow (Ambrose)/Tin Man (Cain)Azkadellia was the first to pull away from the embrace. She looked over at DG’s companions, then turned quickly away, moving to the edge of the balcony to stare down at the O.Z. spread before them.
Cain imagined what it had been like for her, trapped inside a cage of her own flesh, forced to watch while horrible things were done in her name. For him, it was over; for her – her name was a curseword, and not everyone in the O.Z. would have the benefit of DG’s explanation, or want to believe it if they heard.
Ambrose patted him on the arm. “We should get out of here,” he suggested. “Let them have their reunion.”
He looked at Ambrose and twitched his lips. “Speaking of reunion –”
Ambrose put a hand to his head, his fingertips snagging against the head of the zipper. “Surgery in the morning! And then I’ll be Glitch-free.” He stared at Cain. “What? What is it?”
He tilted his head. “I wouldn’t be so keen to get rid of Glitch. He has his good points.”
Ambrose’s smile looked almost painful. “Really?
“Really,” he said, and readjusted his hat.
“Maybe …” Ambrose said, “maybe you could stick around, too. The queen will need experienced guards.”
The look he gave Cain was – Cain thought, in time, he’d be able to give it a name.
He thought he wanted to stay long enough to do so.
for
jakrar: Nathan/Peter (note: ended up Nathan & Peter)When he was sixteen, in one of his periodic fits of angst, Peter had accused Nathan of liking to see Peter screw up. “So you can make sure you’re the good one,” Peter had said, the words twisting up his mouth.
Shortly after that it was all ‘sorry’ and ‘I don’t know why I get like that,’ but Nathan thought both of them halfway believed Peter the first time.
It was hard to explain, how he could envy Peter his freedom and still not want any of what he saw in Peter’s world. Peter saw potential everywhere, but not the trash under his feet – not even when it was about to trip him up.
When they were kids, it was easy to tell himself he despised that and just wanted Peter to wise up and pay attention to the world, but Nathan’s got a better solution now.
As long as he can fly in when his brother needs him, Peter can ignore the obstacles in his way all he likes.
And, for
shelbyg, because it was too good to pass up: The Polytheist BSG fleet arrives at earth during a decidedly monotheistic holidayThe short-haired woman who rose from the table when they entered had the jowly look of someone who’d once been plump. She was still nervous when Roslin waved her to sit, looking down at her folders, her pencils.
“We’ve asked Dr. Hennig not to write down any of her conclusions just yet,” Roslin told the others. “Obviously, any news about Earth will be explosive, but what she has to tell you is … shocking.”
She waited, then said gently, “Dr. Hennig?”
She coughed and glanced quickly around the assembled faces of the senior staff. “You have to understand, we’re working with limited information. It’s just me and three Classics majors, attempting to translate their languages –”
“Languages?” Adama asked.
“The peoples of Earth are neither politically nor linguistically united,” Dr. Hennig said quickly, as if that would mute the surprise. “We’ve identified two key language groups representing dominant population groups – for the moment, my team has split its focus.”
Tory and Roslin exchanged glances. Roslin leaned forward, lowering her voice so they all had to pay close attention. “People being what they are, we expect that our arrival will generate substantial political upheaval. We will be asked to take sides in existing controversies. And there’s more.”
Dr. Henning winced. “One group is, ah, officially atheistic. The other is –” she took a deep breath – “monotheistic. In fact, well over three billion of them are monotheists of one kind or another.”
“My Gods,” Adama said, just as Lee asked, “There are kinds?”
Roslin nodded. “We have to be prepared for the chance that the Cylons will find common cause with at least some of the people of Earth.” They each took a moment to think about the fact that the Cylons looked human now, and might be able to talk their way into seeming less alien than the twitchy, traumatized remnants of actual humanity. “In fact, Dr. Hennig informs me that they’re approaching a winter solstice festival at which they celebrate the arrival of a child of their god. Commander Adama, is there any way we can delay first contact until a better time?”
Adama paused, shook his head. “This push to Earth ate up our supplies. Even if the Cylons don’t find us, hunger will.”
Tigh laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “So we’re still frakked.”
Roslin closed her eyes for a second. “We face challenges. But we have some advantages. Dr. Hennig, Tory is going to add some communications specialists to your team. Your aim will be to find aspects of their religion -- religions,” she corrected herself – “that we can use to explain ourselves.”
Dr. Hennig nodded, her eyes already hazy. “I think – there’s something about travelers from far places that’s already part of the solstice ritual.”
“Good,” she said, though her tone was not happy. “Faith has brought us this far, ladies and gentleman. I will not allow it to betray us now.”
Tags:
- bsg,
- btvs,
- eight crazy nights,
- fanfic by me,
- heroes,
- nip/tuck,
- other tv,
- spn,
- sv
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From:
no subject
ahahah, oh christian. i want so much more of this! god, the two of them out drinking and, i don't know. picking up women. do you think if lex brought clark to christian he could do his thing with the red lipstick on him? what could be wrong with superman?
(also: Kryp/Tuck is the most perfect cut-tag ever ever ever.)
From:
no subject
Picking up women would be so good! They could double-team one and Christian would think there's something vaguely gay about it and Lex would be like, nothing vague about it.
I find it hard to imagine what Christian would draw on Clark, but it sure would be funny watching him try.