kittydesade: (cool daddy-o)
Deutsch )

So, I finally finished the first part of my SPN Jess AU fic inspired by someone I don't know's post. It's here. I'm terrified. Hold me?

Oof. My eyes are doing the poached egg thing, thank you ever so much, cat, for waking me up every couple of hours last night. My main anti-protagonist-basement-muse-expy in my boy witches fic is being skeevy in everyone's general direction (those of you familiar with where the term basement muse comes from will go "and this surprises you?"), my mecha fic hasn't been worked on in a few days and I need to fix that, and about the only fic I'm not currently panicking over is Black Ice. Argh.

Debating over whether or not to nominate anything for Yuletide, which is a bit eleventh hour but it's a reasonable question! I did at least get a bunch of filing done today. And there's not much else to be done other than filing and checking in this order, so that's something at least. Which means I'd probably better get to it. And my Social Control card is now in my hot little, um, purse! Yay! And oh god at this point I'm just rambling. I really, really need a nap. Or not to be this tired. One thing after the other, set 'em up and knock 'em down. And don't be quite so punchy.

Okay, so I have it some place that is not on an easily loseable scrap of paper:
1. Haircut!!!!
2. Japanese
3. Guitar
4. Scene in BitG
5. Scene in Mechathingie
6. Figure out Jess's thought process, and if that's done
7. Chunk of J3. ... Oh god that means something entirely different in Supernatural fandom, doesn't it.
8. Don't die.
9. Healthy dinner.
kittydesade: (boots not finery)
Deutsch )

And in the category of Things I Do Not Get: having to own 10 pairs of shoes because I'm a woman. Or maybe I'm not a real woman. I own four pairs of shoes that do not involve performance in some way, because for performance I wear costumes, and that's a different category. But. Four pairs of shoes. Black thick-sole hiking sneakers, sneakers, black biker boots, and brown leather sandals. I do not wish to own or intend to own more than that. But apparently as a woman I am somehow obligated to own, lust after, or think about owning at a minimum ten pairs of shoes? I will grant that I probably should have a pair of dressy shoes but if I ever go to an occasion where my black biker boots don't cut it, I'll probably have ample warning to go out and pick up a pair. Or I'll wear my black sneakers over pants long enough to hide that they're sneakers. I just don't get the shoe lust. Clothes lust I get, I will freely admit that I drool over outfits in stores and all. But the only thing I want my shoes to do is protect my feet and keep me from falling. And, occasionally, be stompy.

Anyway. In the category of stereotypical women things I DO get? Chocolate cravings goign with PMS. Every month these days it's like clockwork, a week before, woe and more like puffing than bloating, but still. Day of and/or day surrounding? CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE GIVE ME ALL THE CHOCOLATE. It's a bit nuts. Right now it's pretty much a litany of oh god feel puffy ow ow ow CHOCOLATE GIVE ME ALL THE CHOCOLATE ow ow CHOCOLATE feel puffy and weird DID I MENTION THE CHOCOLATE. There may be a hot shower when I get home.

... and then I was suckered into writing self-indulgent (and other people indulgent) Supernatural AU fanfic. How. How in the hell. At least it gives me something to write in a bit at a time that isn't any of my original projects. Go go mental floss?

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (angel punch)
No Russian today. I can't focus on the Russian right now, not with what happened. It is very, very strange going back to routines after a long weekend off. Very strange. Still kind of celebrating my victory talking to Misha in Russian, while at the same time trying not to think about it too much because if I think about it I will completely freak right the fuck out about making a fool of myself at the actors. Or something. It'll take me a while to get over that, I think. That said, I wasn't nearly as bad as I might have been a while ago. I think.

Damn, I really have no ability to analyze objectively when it comes to that sort of thing.

I got a lot of sleep last night. Then dozed off in the bus (which was its own sort of fiasco, dear lord.) Then pretty much went to bed almost as soon as I got home, after a brief stop-over at a drive-through so the boy could get some dinner. I have had so much sleep. Which is probably why I'm at all as alert as I am, but damn, I could use some introvert time just to hang out in the house and hide. Sadly, I don't think I'll get it until tonight. And then a day later this weekend.

Dude, this is why you don't give actors or anyone your twitter, your email, whatever. Then you're constantly freaking out and being all, are they going to follow me? What do I do if they do contact me? Nah, they won't remember me. They won't remember me. They won't. But what if they do? Stop thinking about it. It doesn't do any good to dwell on it. Which works for about five, ten minutes, and then it's all, what the hell? Why did I give him my Twitter name? He's just going to throw it out. Stop thinking about it.

Ugh. I need to get dressed for work and stop freaking out. Get dressed, pack my lunch, figure out what else I'm going to do this week while I walk over. Pick up a little bit more is on the list maybe for Wednesday, and get the mattress on the bed in the craft room. Oof. I think my brain and my adrenaline glands are still trying to be going at full bore while the rest of me is going crash already! I disapprove.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (morning ugh)
Right: Con, day two. This post using my icon of omg tired because I can't use a Misha icon, it gives me funny feelings.

The brainweasels attack )
kittydesade: (Default)
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my FUCKING GOD.

With the exception of about ... no, I'm not going to say, it wasn't as bad as it could have been but it made me cringe. One meal at an expensive restaurant, I have not regretted a single purchase I have made at this con. It's been about as expensive as Dragon*Con if not a little more, but goddamn I do not regret it. I regret nothing. I have a steady income, and I still have a fair bit of birthday money I wasn't counting on, I'm not (which is a GOOD thing because for Dragon*Con I usually do) going into ANY debt over it and OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS AWESOME. I GOT PHOTOS WITH BOYS. I NEVER GET PHOTOS OF MYSELF.

Breakfast and Jared )

I have WHAT in my pants? )

Jerking off with Matt on the dance floor )

kittydesade: (morning ugh)
A quick con report before I pass out and get up in, heh, a little under six hours to do it all over again.

We got lunch! We got there! We got there early so Ali could do the volunteering thing. So I helped unload boxes and fold shirts for about two hours before I stood in line for another two hours to get badged and, yes, get tickets for photo ops for Misha, Matt Cohen, the Trickster, and Corin Nemec. I am a sad, sad, SAD person. I am also #33 for Matt and #5 for Corin. NUMBER FREAKING FIVE. I am going to give him all the glompings because damn. I don't know how many people he'll have for the day.

Um. Lesee. Then I decided I was hungry so we went to look for a restaurant and, I swear, somehow ended up finding the most expensive freaking place in the entire complex. And it's a BIG complex. Don't even ask how much I paid for a steak, two salads, and a dessert, but Ali was in a hurry. It was, however, damn good food. As well it better be. I stayed and enjoyed a leisurely dessert and completely forgot to validate parking, which is why we had a short list of restaurants to eat in the first place. So, fuck. Then I went back, got in line and made line friends for the Steve Carlson concert. Which was awesome. And my start to public embarrassment. Basically what happened was he asked what people wanted to hear for the last two songs, half the crowd shouted something I didn't recognize and have now forgotten, and about another third or so shouted Werewolves of London. For some reason. So then he asked again and this time about six song titles came up. And I shouted "Apparently, everything!" which .. .well, yeah. And he actually heard me. God knows how, and was all "I don't think I know that one" teasing me back. And thus began (and ended) the start of my self-inflicted public embarrassment.

We did stay for a little bit of the karaoke. We did not stay for more than four songs or so, because a) two ofthe first four were obviously people who had experience singing both on key and with a mic and, uh, after that I am not damn well going up on stage (I can sing on key? But not into a microphone) and one of the first four was a group of three VERY SMALL children doing Eye of the Tiger. Which was fucking adorable. And Richard Speight and Matt Cohen were adorable emceeing them. And I about died from the adorable. But then we got tired and left.

And now we are going to go to bed because we have to get up stupid early tomorrow and head in. Yaay.

(No, seriously, though, yay, because it IS a lot of fun. I picked up two CDs because, hey, support good artists, right? And it looks like it'll be a lot of fun. And I might well get to squish Corin Nemec.)
kittydesade: (morning ugh)
Deutsch )

It's been a weird rollercoaster of a day. Cold and gray to start with, raining when I went out for my walk so I didn't do any parkour on the slippery surfaces. Then got all hyper over Russian and playing around with Dragon. Then managed to get my lightwire and a battery for it, got some candy for the basket for everyone else and some lip gloss for me, got a Pamela necklace (no sunglasses) and then heard about Jeff Conaway. Was bummed for about an hour until the family presented me with the Hiya Set I'd been eyeing for my birthday money. And now I'm tired again and I just want to go home. Until I apparently made a date (we'll see if he even remembers) for the SPN con for a hug with Matt Cohen. Sometimes I should be removed from Twitter for my own good.

Even so. I'll probably get a badge and wander around with it that says @mightybattlecat just in case people ... hell, I don't know. I told him I'd have a guitar pick necklace. Maybe I can add some more picks to my TSO necklace and make it really obvious. Besides, chances are I'm the shortest person in the room.

Assuming he remembers. No, Jag, he's not going to remember, stop blinking and worrying.

So, yeah. It's very much time to go home, curl up, and pet a kitty. Maybe do some writing or some knitting, just, wrap up the day. Have some tasty dinner and wrap up the damn day. And then sleep half through the day tomorrow. Seriously. Ugh.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (pam and cas are love)
Deutsch )

Ugh. At this point I think I should just throw my Faust into my bag and do word order exercises that way. Bleh.

日本語 - level-grinding adjectives and referring to things mentioned immediately before )

Trying something different; in order not to get bogged down by things that I already know, I'm going to mark things off in the table of contents as I have trouble with them and make sure to go back through them when I need to review later. And, you know, hopefully if I remember to do consistent tagging things that'll help. But at least that way I'm not getting fed up with review by doing the same simple things over and over again, and then stopping the review when I get to the more complicated ones.

You'd think this was silly and self-evident. But no. You'd think wrong.

Oof. Slowly starting to regain writing equilibrium, among other things. Writing smaller chunks of stories helps to build those muscles back up again. Even if the smaller chunks of stories are bizarre, depressing, or both. I need to work on a couple other things, too. Writing samples, at the very least, and finish another story that is by now way later than I wanted it to be. Actually two of them, but only one has a deadline.

It's still freaking hot out here. I have no idea what's up with the weather considering it's made about a twenty-five degree (farenheit) jump from last week to this week. I'm actually surprised I haven't gotten sick yet, either, what with the going from indoors and air conditioned to outdoors and, well, not. Glad, really. But surprised. And it looks like it's not supposed to cool down at all the rest of this week. Bugger.

Slowly gearing up for the Supernatural convention in a couple of weeks. Which is to say, I have my tickets and I have my pass and I have my photo ID and my bus ticket. And I feel a little bit guilty for not having the enthusiasm that probably every other Gold Package ticket holder has, but goddammit. If this is going to be my only chance to collect the damn autographs, then I'm going to take it. Because apparently with autographs I'm a bit neurotic or something. Must have as many as I can. (And the truly sad thing is, out of the six people plus the two big ones I'm only getting five. I got Corin Nemec's at Dragon Con. And we stood around and talked for a while, and he was absolutely adorable. And it was probably a friendlier, quieter atmosphere than this. But oh well. I could be wrong. I've never been to a Creation Ent con before!) Anyway, so there's that. I even have a Ramones shirt and I'm going to go out and look for sunglasses and maybe a leather jacket or something so I can dress up as Pamela Barnes. Because I have no life. No, seriously. Lifeless.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (laedecker)
日本語 )

Come on, Jag, you just got done getting over your last wrenched back, don't be stupid and try to impress anyone by sacrificing safety for speed when you're lifting that 45 lb box of books off the UPS cart. And then wrench your back. Idiot.

And stop fondling the fibers and do your Japanese. Yes, it's silk and bamboo and wonderful and soft and pretty. It's also not going anywhere anytime soon, you do not need to grope it. Also, you have ridiculous amounts of pretty colored fiber at home. Come on.

Things to do tonight, in no particular order

1. Move curry and stew out of pots and into freezer/smaller pots/etc.
2. Wash Cheetara costume for the last time and hang to dry
3. Wash out dripping tubs
4. Spin some. Maybe the bamboo, maybe not.
5. Write some
6. Clean some?
7. Wash fiber, set twist

Getting 8 or so hours of sleep really, really helped. I'm not going to even try tackling heavy subjects just yet in fiction or otherwise, although I am editing, but for the sake of my stability I'm not touching anything heavier than maybe the miners coming out tomorrow. Starting tonight, but going into tomorrow.

The hard part about Japanese today, I think, or maybe just in general, isn't even this grammar point. Although I'm going through all the exercises anyway, it's retaining what I learned through the week long hiatus and making my mind call it up when I need it. On top of the exhaustion, but that was yesterday, today doesn't seem to be so much a problem that way. We'll see what happens when I get to German tonight. Which, yes, I slept through last night. There was a lot of sleeping going on. Much needed sleeping.

Finishing a novel is still a damn good feeling. Like you've been carrying a 35 pound backpack (which I carried through most of high school, ow) on your back for many months and then all of a sudden you put it down and you can stand up straight again. And there's that feeling of relief, but also a feeling of emptiness. You'd just gotten used to it, and now it isn't there anymore! This might be why I constantly have one project on go, the need to have that backpack on my back all the time. It's not necessarily a bad thing, I think. As long as you don't let it become a bad thing. Right now, two of those backpacks need to be gone through and tidied up, and I think I've abused that metaphor to death. But after that I have one more novel to get out, and then I think I might take a try at not having any novels writing for a while, just editing and maybe self-publishing and self-marketing. Frightening thought.

I did, sad as it is to say, purchase tickets for the Supernatural Nashville con. It's my birthday present to me, since it's happening around my birthday, and I put it on credit card since that was almost paid off and that way I can pay it slowly over several months. Also, going by the past few years of precedence, that's the only chance I'll have to see those people, since they don't come to the cons I come to. Except Mark Sheppard. And finally, if I decide I don't want to go, there will definitely be people willing to take that ticket off my hands at what I paid for it. And what I paid hopefully includes greater opportunities to hang out with the actors and people, which is what I really go to cons for. Or at least, the smaller cons.

Right. Now I've done my Japanese, now I get to edit and poke at outlines, short stories, and maybe some Spanish. And eat merienda. And fondle fibers. I'm working on a 2ply yarn, I need to set my bamboo, and I really, really need to dye the wool I've already spun. I've also discovered that I enjoy knitting much more when it comes out looking like what it's supposed to, instead of looking like, well. A scarf. Or something else sort of shapeless. Which only means I need to start working on hats and arm warmers next. I know there's a simple pattern for arm warmers around here somewhere...

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (nameless is dubious)
Title: Holding Out For No Heroes
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: John Winchester, OCs
Word Count: ~1,500
Rating: PG
Summary: John Winchester meant to rescue the civilians and destroy the demons. Except these particular civilians don't need rescuing...
A/N: Written for [community profile] mundane_bingo "people trying to help you when you don't need help"

This was supposed to be an easy job, and it had turned into a nest of demons bigger than he'd ever run into before. Probably it was the isolated area that did it; Rappahannock County wasn't the biggest bastion of civilization. He'd tracked the last of them to a dead-end gravel road with a metal bar across it, and three cars parked in front of a cabin. Shit.

There were figures in the windows, too, passing back and forth in through the rooms in front of the light. From the road he could see what looked like a kitchen from the curtain pattern, maybe a bathroom from the water tank hanging outside of it, and he didn't know what that third room was. At least two people in the house. Recent arrivals, too, by the heat coming off the hood of at least one of the cars. He made his way up the short, steep hill towards the door, easing open the screen door without creaking it. His breath was coming fast and shallow already, he needed to be clear about this. Focused. Just two demons, nothing he hadn't handled before. One more breath, and he slammed into the door and ...

... almost fell down, water hitting his face with considerable force.

"Shit!" "Did you get him?" "I got him, is..." "He's not smoking." "Doesn't rule out..."

Read more... )
kittydesade: (pam and cas are love)
Title: Feather Light
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Pam/Cas (see [profile] hottestpsychic and [profile] soldier_ofgod for details)
Word Count: 939
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pam and Cas spend a quiet afternoon together on the couch.
A/N: Wingporn! Written for the [community profile] kink_bingo prompt "Tickling"

The reading thing never lasted very long, most of the time. There were days when they could sit on the couch, curled together, and read to each other for hours. Or she would do some mundane task like mending things or sorting bills while he sat and read on the couch, one hand turning the pages and the other rubbing her feet or her calves or something like that.

But when they were curled up together reading aloud, it never lasted very long.

He turned her face to his with gentle fingertips under her chin and stopped her in mid-word with a kiss. Ford Prefect, apparently, could wait.

"Don't you want to hear how they..." she got out, before he kissed her again, and this time she turned in his arms to kiss him more thoroughly back.

"No, I would rather do this."

Read more... )
kittydesade: (mark sheppard is god)
Title: Aggressive Negotiations
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Ruby/Crowley
Word Count: ~2500
Rating: R
Summary: Crowley has something Ruby wants. Ruby has something Crowley wants. Ruby loses.
A/N: Dub-con, whether the dub is more or less clear depends, I think, on your interpretation.

Negotiations were a delicate business. If you weren’t careful, you found yourself paying more than you wanted for something that was worth less than you thought. Crowley had learned that lesson repeatedly, less often these days but it was still worth keeping in mind as he faced down the pretty blonde woman with the very old woman inside her.

“Well? Do you have it?”

Crowley smiled. “Hold your horses, love. I thought we could talk for a bit first."

"What's there to talk about? You have my materials. I have your payment." Not money, not cash. Not between them. Her payment came in the form of a small black vial with a viscous liquid that had taken her a lot of time to accumulate. And it still wasn't as valuable as the materials she needed to finish the damn knife.

He allowed himself a step or two closer. Her having the knife, her making the bloody thing put him on edge, but the word had come down that this was what was needed to get the job done. So this was what everyone was told to do; help her in any way they could. Of course, he was a crossroads demon, he had a job to do, so he couldn't exactly make it easy for her. Had to make a profit somehow.

Getting his jollies was just an extra special bonus.

"Are we doing this deal or not?"

"Pucker up, sweetheart."

He should have known better than to trust her. She was that bitch's favorite for a reason.

Crowley caught her hand in his pocket and held it there, squeezing her wrist tight enough that he could hear the bones of her meatsuit grinding together. "Aw, love, if you wanted that, you could have just asked. That, you can have for free."

"I wouldn't touch you to…"

Well, why not. They were already lips to lips, or close enough to it. And even if he couldn't read other demons quite as well as he could humans, he hadn't been the King of the Crossroads for the last few centuries without learning how to negotiate. How to read the signs of body and voice rather than minds. Her body was screaming to be touched. Her voice was screaming to be challenged.

She reached up her other hand to jab her fingers into his throat, and he grabbed her other wrist. “Ah ah ah...” he hissed out through a toothy smile. "No."

"You stupid, slimy bastard..."

"Look who's talking."

There was a moment there, just a moment, when he wasn't sure she wanted it. And then he had to make a decision, searching her stolen face with borrowed eyes for signs distorted by her human body. Not that he was squeamish, but he had to be in the right frame of mind and mood for rape, and this wasn't it. He wanted to play with his food, not devour it, ripping and tearing. But he was hungry. So to speak.

She did respond. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, half-closed, and her body relaxed enough that her wrists went limp in his hands, though he didn't let go. Not a tricky bitch like her. She tilted her face up to his and sidled closer, till he had just decided to go with it, either way. She wasn't fighting. Actually, she was leaning into it. Brushing up against him. Encouraging him. His smile stretched into a smirk as he leaned back, closer, pulled her closer.

The pain was all the more intrusive for being unexpected. Her knee slammed into his crotch hard enough to make him let go of her wrists. Predictably, she turned and bolted.

"Oh no you don't..."

He tackled her on the dirt in front of her hide-out, knocking the breath out of her against the rocks and the hard-packed ground. She beat at him with her fists, but he cracked her head against the ground first and she went limp.

"There," Crowley panted, smirking. "Now we can have this conversation some place a little more civilized."

Read more... )
kittydesade: (wtf german?)
Deutsch )

Oof. All right. That was two scenes done on Martine today and one done on Sherlock Holmes, both of them fairly chunky scenes, and two Kink Bingos posted. Which, I should go back and edit those tags and possibly those prompts in. Bah. And then once I get this fic done I'll actually have at least one bingo down, though I think I might still go for the solo blackout.

I will say, Crowley is kind of fun to write. I'm not even sure why except that he's Mark Sheppard at maybe his snarkiest, or at least his snarkiest so far. Given free reign to be a bastard, and he's clearly had fun with the role. Which then translates into me having fun with writing him. There may have to be more Kink Bingos with him just because I have the suspicion Crowley will fuck anything that moves. And has for centuries.

My list of random shit I need to get done is starting to get longer. It's a lot of small stuff, but it's starting to get longer, and I don't like that. On the plus side, most of the filing got done yesterday. Need to figure out what else I need to do and consolidate my lists of shit I need to get done. Hopefully, at least, this weekend will be more productive than last, writing-wise. And, well, hey. One Big Bang will be done by the end of the month. Go me? Yeah, go me. Go me to bed now, though.
kittydesade: (mark sheppard is god)
Title: Crowley
Fandom: Good Omens/Supernatural/RPS
Characters: Crowley/Crowley/Crowley
Word Count: 1,328
Rating: R. What did you expect?
Summary: Orgy of Crowleys
A/N: No, I'm not kidding.

"Well. Don't you look familiar."

"Ah-ah-ah. Technically this body looks familiar. I'm just here for the ride."

The demon Crowleys smirk at each other. They understand what's going on. The human, he thinks he has an idea, and he does have a few of them. Debauchery, debasement. But it’s all mundane corruption. Boring stuff. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and he’s almost more interested in his reputation as a debased bastard than he is in actually committing the acts. Sad.

Crowley the snake smoothes his palms over his jacket front, preening. Crowley the salesman admires this, this other demon and his fine form, the way the dark linen falls over the human frame.

“What are you doing?”

There’s the magician. Both demons look at each other and roll their eyes a bit. He’s already on something.

“Getting ready,” Crowley says, one eyebrow arched, words perfectly shaped and enunciated. “Why don’t you go right on down to the bed and get yourself ready?”

“Perhaps I will.” Read more... )
kittydesade: (i'm no angel (nopejr))
My webspace is updated sort of yay.

So, for a while, [ profile] adsartha has been linking me to these posts whereby fandom characters are put in ordinary situations, and they're always hilarious. But then something happened in RP recently which led to this completely unrelated-to-the-RP thought, what would happen if Dean and Cassie's daughter (in this world in which they're together) brought her boyfriend home for the first time? And, you know. This reminded me of a similar situation I'd thought of elsewhere, and it springboarded from there.


Cassie, if her daughter brought her boyfriend home for the first time, would be utterly calm. And she would be taking the shotgun away from Dean when he answered the door. And then when the boys sat down she would be taking the pistol away from Dean. And when she leaned over to give him a kiss she would take the knife away from him too.

She would, however, spike the boy's soda/water/drink with holy water. Just to make sure. And make sure her daughter had mace or pepperspray and a silver dagger in her purse, and knew her exorcisms and angel-banishing rituals beforehand.

Guerrero would be lounging on the couch in the boyfriend's house when he got home to change before prom/the date, pistol in one hand, and greet him with a quiet "Hey, dude."

Anyone else want to play?
kittydesade: (Default)
Title: Where You Are
Fandom: Supernatural/Heroes
Characters: Claire Novak/Molly Walker
Word Count: 1,264 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Claire and Molly, in snapshots.

Claire is sixteen and she's been touched by an angel. Years ago, before the end came and her father died and her mother went a little bit off, an angel came down and told her she had a job to do. Asked her if she would help it. She agreed.

But then the angel left and she lost her father again. She missed him. She didn't understand why.

Read more... )
kittydesade: (hey little girl)
Title: Wishing
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Kate Milligan, Adam Milligan, John Winchester
Word Count: 1,785
Rating: PG-13 for adult concepts
Summary: Kate and John Winchester
A/N: Centered around information revealed in 4.19 Jump the Shark. Revised and corrected for accuracy.

In December she meets a man named John Winchester. He doesn't say much, keeps to himself most of the time, has a lot of scars and it looks like a bear's been feeding on him, but he's nice. Quiet. Sad. He wears his sadness around him like a pair of comfortable jeans with the holes in the knees that have been around so long you can't bear to throw them away. Like an old leather coat.

His sadness makes him invisible the way homeless people are invisible. It's too thick, so people avert their eyes so that they don't have to deal with it. It makes Kate curious, but she doesn't want to ask him directly. Instead she buys him a beer and approaches the topic sideways, the way she's learned how to do in the hospital. It takes three hours to get him to open up about his deceased wife, about what happened. She knows he isn't telling her the whole truth. But he's telling her the bare bones of it, what he can stand, and the details don't matter. Whether his wife died as a result of a home invasion gone wrong, whether it was an accident, whether it was something else mysterious and improbable like organized crime or black ops or magic, as he said. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is dead, has been for nearly a decade, and he's still hurting.

The fact that one person can have that depth of emotion and resolve is staggering.

Read more... )
kittydesade: (secret smile)
Character: Pamela Barnes
Prompt: None
A/N: Detective!Verse Pam

She knew it was a bad case when he turned up at her door late that night, sweaty and still in his work clothes. Word had trickled down to the labs that they'd have incoming to process, but for tonight she and a couple of the others had the night off. One veteran to supervise, and the rest of the newbies got to sort through the evidence and start the testing. Pam was free to go home and rest up for an early roll-out tomorrow morning.

Resting up didn't seem to be in the cards. She looked through the peephole, caught a glimpse of red-rimmed blue eyes, and scrabbled to open the door. "Cas? Baby, you okay?"

He shook his head.

Read more... )
kittydesade: (ded from laff (fluffy_mun))
OH MY GOD. Someone. Please. I'm at work, I can't make icons till tonight. Someone please make me an icon, animated, two frames, from SPN: The Monster At The End Of This Book. Text:

"The prophecy didn't say anything about this!"
"Prophets don't know everything!"

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kittydesade: (fandom - babylon 5)
Title: Progression
Fandom: Supernatural/Babylon 5
Characters: Sam Winchester, Sebastian
Word Count: 1,430
Rating: PG. Ish.
Summary: The four central questions, in the correct progression, and Sam's respective answers.

1.1 A Mutual Admiration and Sacrificial Society )


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