Aubrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
allfireburns) wrote2008-07-06 08:21 pm
allfireburns) wrote2008-07-06 08:21 pm
Entry tags:
The cannon's thunder can't prevail...
Because ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
newredshoes is a bad influence... have a meme. You know that meme where I post first lines of some of my stories and you write new stories with those lines? Yeah, it's that one. Except... I really don't feel like going through my story catalog and clicking on every single story, so all these first lines? Are from unfinished fics in my GoogleDocs (and a couple from various notebooks). Feel free to change names/pronouns/etc. to suit, if you like.
If you'd like to try to get me to write something for you, feel free to ask! I can't guarantee anything, because apparently my right brain has taken off for Santa Fe, but I will try!
newredshoes is a bad influence... have a meme. You know that meme where I post first lines of some of my stories and you write new stories with those lines? Yeah, it's that one. Except... I really don't feel like going through my story catalog and clicking on every single story, so all these first lines? Are from unfinished fics in my GoogleDocs (and a couple from various notebooks). Feel free to change names/pronouns/etc. to suit, if you like."This is our year." (S60)
It's a dance, the two of them. (Chess)
There is something to be said for dying. (DW/Sandman)
"You know, for 'Nowhere', this looks a whole lot like 'Somewhere'." (Original)
Things do not go as planned. (BN)
Jack's familiar with silence. (DW)
Five months and twenty-three days into the year of hell on earth, Martha Jones stopped running. (DW)
"Does he really think he can get away with that?" (DW)
He keeps dreaming of running. (DW/Chess)
"You want me to take care of this?" (S60)
The forest is forbidden after dark. (Original)
It was funny, the things people didn't notice. (Original)
She supposed music would sound better to her ears if she'd never heard magic. (Original)
If you'd like to try to get me to write something for you, feel free to ask! I can't guarantee anything, because apparently my right brain has taken off for Santa Fe, but I will try!
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Also, I'm currently watching "The 4 AM Miracle" for the first time in a bazillion years, and holy shit, how could I have forgotten that this is the episode with the practice baby?
...I will pick up one of those prompts when the episode is done.
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It's a little sad how any mention of that show AT ALL makes me grin like an idiot.
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Bare - The Sound of Silence
Sitting at graduation, the silences overwhelms him as Matt stumbles through his speech. He must not cry, he must not make a noise to mar the silence. Odd, really that Jason's final tribute at St. Cecilia's was the silence of not mentioning him, not mentioning his death or the reason for it. He wants to stand, to scream out to everyone withing hearing distance that he and Jason were in love, and that he didn't care what anyone else thinks.
However, as Matt finishes, and everyone stands to sing the final hymn, Peter holds his tongue. He can't sing out to praise a God who took his love from him, however, he also cannot scream in protest. Not yet. One day he will break his silence, but this is not that day. The silence, Jason's silence will be there for all to hear.
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...I hate it when Firefox chooses inappropriately happy icons for me. MY ICON MOCKS YOUR PAIN, PETER. *Changes it* Much better. ...Somehow.
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"You want me to take care of this? 'Cause I can, you know."
"Dude." Dean reaches for Matt's shot glass. "I think you've had enough."
"No, really," Matt insists, pulling back. "I'm in Hollywood. I know people. I know people who know people. You could have a real future here."
Dean smiles, tolerant but not for long. "Thanks, but I think I've had my fill of the keg of glory."
"The keg of glory was not made of--" Matt frowns down at his hand. "What were these again?"
Dean tries to pry Matt off the glass again. "Purple nurples."
Matt looks perturbed. "What, did you make that up?"
Dean sighs. "Sadly not." He tugs again. "You gonna let me help you now or not?"
Matt's head sways back and forth. "I don't get it. How is it they let you into our prop room?"
Dean flashes a movie star grin, half-wink and all. "I'm one hell of a PA."
"What did you need there?"
Dean cocks an eyebrow at him. "What do you remember about tonight?"
Matt blinks. "Cal, and there was--stuff flying--"
"Yeah, okay, we're done." Dean claps him on the back and stands up. "Come on, buddy, I've been thanked enough. You've got some heavyweight sleeping off to do."
Matt also stands, though he wobbles somewhat. "Did I see something tonight?"
Dean spreads his hands. "Unless it was me with that Samantha chick, which," he pauses to whistle, "is just between you, me and the wall, no." That smile again. "Nothing more unusual than your average night on the Strip."
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Matt! And PA!Dean! And keg of glory! And... !!!!!!!
...Hi. I love you right now. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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<333333333
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And I might do this. I need to write something. But I'm getting distracted by Studio 60.
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I would approve of you doing this. But if you're going to be distracted by something, Studio 60 is a good thing to be distracted by.
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If I watch Studio 60 and then do this, it'll end up like the blended drink fic no matter what I write.
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"Look at my penis!" Mark said, jumping in the air.
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*debating posting this myself, so while I consider that, here's my response. or... my first one, anyway, who knows what else there may be.* Look! Is Ali and April. Do not ask me which Ali and April. Probably AS. Or Reasons. Either way. I know they're not sleeping together? Also, don't ask me the point of this, because there's not one.
--
"This is our year."
"Actually, we're tigers. This is the year of the dragon."
"I'm not talking about Chinese star bullshit."
"Then be a little more specific."
"This is going to be a good year."
"And you know this because..."
"I just do."
"It hasn't even started yet."
"I don't care."
"You do realize you could be completely wrong and this year could be the worst of our lives, right?"
"Yes."
"Just as long as you're aware of your craziness."
"You love me."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't tell anyone."
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"Let's go, Sammy," Dean said, walking out of the diner onto the sidewalk. "These people don't know anything, including how to make a decent Philly cheese steak. We should try the local bar."
"Aren't you curious about this?" Sam asked, pointing.
"About wha- whoa." Dean stared at the blue box like he hadn't just walked past it. "That wasn't there."
"It was," Sam said, nodding. "It was there the entire time you were inside. No one's looking at it. They're not looking at it, but they're not running into it or anything. It's like they know it's there, but don't know it's there. I tried the door, it's locked."
Dean stared at the box for a minute and then looked at Sam. "Forget about it. It's just sitting there. Swamp monster is killing people."
"Yeah..." Sam's eyes lingered on the box for another moment and then he looked at Dean. "You're right. Let's go."
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"You know, for 'Nowhere', this looks a whole lot like 'Somewhere'," Charlie Crews said as he and his partner sat on the hood of his car, here in a neighborhood of downtown he wasn't acquainted with.
It'd been Reese's idea, coming out here. The case had hit an impasse, with every suspect and witness in this case each claiming ignorance of one vital detail or another; and he suspected he'd said entirely the wrong thing when he and she got in the car after one such talk with a couple of witnesses.
She wasn't saying anything, Charlie considered. That could be a good thing, or it could mean she was about to bean him, probably with a soda can.
"I was five," Reese said after a while. "Dad drove me out here...
"We just sat in the car. I was all excited; there I was, thinking he had brought me on a stake-out. I kept quiet and my head low - didn't want to give us away to whomever dad was keeping an eye on."
And that was it. Charlie kept an ear open, but she didn't say another word. But lessons learned on the Inside, from the book and other sources, combined with Reese's story... and it clicked. "It's nowhere to us, but not to the people who know it - and it shouldn't be an unknown to people who know it. So if they say they don't know it -"
"I'm driving," Reese said, sliding off the hood and heading for the door.
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And I love Aubrey!writing so you should writing something for me. *being vague* UH. If I get my brain together I'll make more specific request or something.
and it's even still DW/Sandman!
Those moments are longer on the non-living side of things, too. Jack’s body may be taking a quick break from its day-to-day vocation of walking, talking, eating, breathing, screwing, and shitting; but the rest of him goes on a bit of a metaphysical jaunt.
“I won’t remember this,” he says to the little goth girl who is always there beside him. Ghosts pass them by as they stroll through the shadowy streets of Cardiff, except that it is really Jack who is the ghost and the shadows that are reality. “I never remember. Maybe I’d be a little more eager to get back if I remembered.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, and grins up at him. “It isn’t like you need to rush. We have pretty regular appointments as it is, don’t you think?”
She looks like a teenager, a little slip of a thing who never quite got out of that punk rock phase. She makes him feel like a lecherous old man (which, of course, he is). And then again she makes him feel so very young, as if he is only a flash in the pan to her. As if he is a tiny speck tossed on the dark, deep tides of time.
“You’ll grow into it,” she says affably, and pokes him in the ribs. “Time to go. I’ll see you again.”
“It’s a date,” he calls after her, but she is going, going, gone. Jack gasps to life on the cold hard pavement, and the girl is an echo of a story of a dream someone else once had.
Time flies, as time is wont to do. Ianto and Gwen become memories of faces and stories, favorite songs and bars and what they liked for breakfast. There are other teams, and other friends, and other lovers, and Jack loves them all, and all of them eventually leave him, never to return. Even the Doctor flickers out of Jack’s life for good one day.
The arrow of entropy is impervious to threats, bribery, cajoling, or prayer. Earth dies eventually, and Jack moves on. After that it is only a scarce few billion years before the last stars blink out forever, and all the remaining matter in existence begins to slowly cool. The universe is in the throes of heat death, and, to his complete lack of surprise, Jack finds himself continually dying along with it.
“So,” says the girl, standing beside him upon nothing, looking out over the emptiness that remains. “You’re kind of putting a damper on my plans, you know.”
“Oh?” Jack raises an eyebrow at her. “How so?”
“The universe is dying. Maybe you’ve noticed?” She waves a hand. “I ought to be locking the place up for the night. But you’re still here.”
“Aww. You noticed.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and grins a grin that has gone more or less unchanged through the millennia. “Sorry, sweetheart, but there’s not much I can do about the situation. I’m as stuck here as you are.”
“Are you?” She cocks her head to the side, studying him curiously. “You really have grown into the years, you know. Every last one of them. I could choose to die – I think you’d make a pretty good me. Not too many responsibilities around anyway these days.”
“I would,” he says, and means it. He isn’t sure, though, whether it’s for her or for himself that he would take this on. Her eyes, her smile, the arch of her neck and the swing in her step – he’s fairly sure he would do anything for her. He would love her till he died, if that day could even come. But this universe, too … he’s lived here his whole life, after all. And it’s still too soon to say goodbye.
“So serious,” she says, and giggles. “Actually I’m kind of fond of the old place, too, when it comes right down to it. And it really does tend to surprise you when you least expect it. Which is pretty much the definition of a surprise, I guess. What do you say – do we wait around and see what’s next?”
Jack bows gallantly and offers her his arm, and together, they begin to wend there way through unreality. “I say, pass the popcorn. There’s got to be something good in store.
And so there was.
...Hi. I'm bored. Rose!Master AU. I like this AU, dammit.
"No," the Doctor says, but it's dull and hopeless and it makes her laugh through the burning of the bullethole in her chest, a pain growing fainter by the minute. The Doctor looks defeated, even scared, just a flicker in his eyes where he could never really hide his emotions from her. She likes him like this. The drums pound fast and loud, filling her skull. They like it too.
"Yes," she responds, and her regeneration takes hold of her, brilliant light and pain and wonder as she sheds her body.
The Doctor has not taken his eyes off of her when she looks at him again, but he doesn't look like he's going to do anything, so she flashes him a dazzling smile that makes him frown even more and looks down at herself. The blood-soaked shirt doesn't quite fit right anymore, the skirt too loose in the waist. She lets it fall, kicking the useless clothing across the floor of the TARDIS. Pity there isn't a mirror around; she'd like to see her face.
She looks up at the Doctor, and smirks. "Hello again, old friend."