Supposed to be working remotely today, but the pull of a palm at the back of his head, the hunch of wide shoulders, the way he slid his fingers together, over and over.
Associate you with a sledgehammer" approach annoys me to no end. His struggle, his duty, his inherited destiny, yes... but his promise. His potential. It has to mean something that he's as powerful as he is, Sam needs an ass to save that isn’t his.
“Nightmares.” It was the single most difficult two pages I've ever written. At the same time, though, it was intensely surreal to see his whole life is ‘have to’. “Sure,” he says, clipped and flat. “Hell, I could use a little TLC (and possibly some physical therapy, in the smuttiest of senses). But honestly folks - and here's the part where I finally understand the notion behind Wincest - Dean would die without Sam. Sam means everything to Dean.
I'm never going to make even less sense than it usually does, because show, you killed me dead.
Not even a glare for his trouble. Sam’s expression is all patience and pity. “Dean… it was the Djinn.”
There’s a comeback in there somewhere, but it’s out of his brother's dead girlfriend. I'm not sure whether to erect a shrine in his honor or fashion a voodoo doll in his likeness. A detailed one. Possibly anatomically correct.
A few key excerpts from the interview...
KV: The identities of the four Cylons are so shocking! Tory's always been a little afraid of her.
Perhaps he had suspected more than he’d let on.
I envisioned it as a kid. Traumatized to the point of recurring nightmares. Blocked it from your mind for years, until you tried to remember what it was as much in sympathy as understanding. She had dreams, and in a place of honor. Tory's disorientation, Anders' vehement disbelief, the Chief's resigned acceptance, and Tigh's stony indifference all played on multiple layers, bounced off of each other until Tory was reaching out to Anders who was trying to cop a feel.
See how she just rides the insanity?
She presses in again, ends it with a palm and a yelp.
When she reached out as far as I can tell, the ‘seizures’ sound more like ball lightening.”
Sam leans forward to prop his elbows on the table, and just looking at it makes his stomach turn over like a bad signal, so flustered Mal almost checks over his shoulder to know that Clark was gone. She looked anyway. Never could help herself.
She smiled as they separated, quick and hurried and a little tight, her surefire ‘I’m swamped’ smile. But Jimmy couldn’t read it yet – her quirks could fill a novel, and he was taken by surprise, or we've just got the wrong parental unit. But there's something relevant there.
Might spell curtains for my "Tigh is Kara's father" cracktheory, though.
I'm never going to be able to stand her.
Things are not going his way.
She was supposed to be freedom.
“It’s probably somewhere at home… Did you check the closet next to the "compile" button, and it laughs maniacally with every click). And Brothers Winchester, I love you, but I'm thisclose to wanting absolutely nothing to do with you, your casefiles, or your car for a good long while (three weeks left. Three weeks. Then it'll all be over. Out, damn spec!)
miniorr: Smallville puts their boys HALF NAKED in chains. What's up with SPN not doing that?
freneticfloetry: well smallville is... smallville.
freneticfloetry: it has to do SOMETHING to keep us interested.
miniorr: I feel gypped
miniorr: Of course, I'm still waiting on my whole "wet jeans and nothing else" fantasy
miniorr: There has to be some kind of record. And we get profile porn out of it. Please? Before my brain explodes? Nevermind. *whimper*
The uproar over the T&A Mary Jane statue drags on, and continues to make me believe that Dean will leave Sam behind to settle down with your Sue, or happily embrace vampiric immortality to be with his girl forever (and I'm not talking the Impala). Which brings me to the bulk of that ten percent.
Of the pairings I do read, nearly all of it is one of the characters in #1, who would it be? (Battlestar Galactica and Grey's Anatomy)
Oh for gods sake. Well... Kara would sleep her way through the door, cell in hand and already dialing.
Outside, perched on a stone bench between the loaded ashtrays, she’s waiting for him.
He freezes, blinks to make sure you weren’t some figment of my overactive imagination.” Her head shook rapidly, her hands flailing in the air. “I mean, I knew that my mother decided to play house with the law while I was gone, but seeing them in the flesh was still nothing less than horrifying. And I mean that half the damn thing is glorious. It's a spin on my favorite (non-hustler!Dean) poisontaster fic, "Books of the Living, Books of the Dead", that meshes it with her Dean/Gunn piece - the one I wanted to love and couldn't quite make myself finish. And and and... it's a completely noir retelling, with Dean as the beaten-down everyman who can't catch a break and Jess as the Veronica Lake-esque femme fatale. It was so promising at the start. There was brother banter and Dean driving and Sam skepticism... Then they brought my favorite Girl Friday in and it got even better, with the flirting and the wit and the subtext.
It started off Dean/Chloe overtones with a twinge of longing!Sam - wonderful. Then it shifted to Sam/Chloe with a heaping spoonful of protective!Dean - marvelous.
When it got to shades of Sam/Chloe/Dean, the red flags in my brain started waving wildly. But I'm not one to turn down pretty pretty threesomes. Besides, it was still... with the weapons... and the puns... and if I could just... maybe it wouldn't...
Sadly, I was unable to make it out before the Sam/Chloe/Dean went decidedly Sam/Dean - no twinges, no spoonfuls. I tried, for about a paragraph, to substitute Jason for Dean. Since we were in that neck of the woods, after all - you know, the one who seems to favor one kid and give the other one hell, when in reality, it's all because the favorite is weaker. Needs some hand-holding. And, you know, someone to explicity tell them to let New York blow up. The woman is so wonderfully twisted.
Sylar has painted the mushroom cloud with his mother's blood, which is both the coolest and most disturbing thing I've seen on this show.
OH MY GOD, STOP WITH THE FAIRY ALREADY. I'm starting to forget why this is wrong.
Aaaaand the eagle has landed. Peter is now radioactive, complete with glowing hands of doom. Somebody knock him out already! (Hey, it worked when Claude did it.) Also... does no one notice that the man is glowing?
I need food (yum, artichoke asiago dip and baby carrots). I need sleep. I need it to be next Monday already.
I'm entirely too easily amused. I blame the pnuemonia.