ways_back_room | Daily Entertainment.

Sallie and Charlie visit Gotham City, any era, any continuity.

Happy birthday!!!

Charlie doesn't dance. Sallie's almost sure of it. And although she's enjoying the feel of moving gracefully around a room with her hands on Charlie's shoulders - she's not an idiot.

"You're investigating something."

The millisecond-too-long pause before making eye contact with Sallie confirms her suspicions, and Charlie grumbles, "Possibly. Renee has a special project."

Sallie shrugs. "Okay."

"Are you sure? I did not mean to upset -- "

"Spin me."

Charlie follows the command-request, and Sallie's smile is back. "If one of us is working, the other is going to enjoy herself."

Whee, Happy Birthday! I hope it's a wonderful day for you.

Also, prompt only if you feel like taking an axe to the fourth wall: Carlisle's opinions of the Twilight craze among immediately pre-pubescent girls.

Oh god.
---
Carlisle is sitting on a barstool in the Back Room, breaking out his laptop, when Bar assumes command of his browser and types "CARLISLE CULLEN TWILIGHT" into the Google search window.

"What in the world -- "

Fourteen hours later, Carlisle has opened three different Microsoft Word documents, fastidiously saved with the titles 'Evidence of Obsessive Behavior', 'What is Slash - A Study of the Fetishization of Homoerotica', and 'That Is Not How Biology Works'.

He has enough study material for years.

This is just love in text form, right here. <3!

I'll admit to being interested in Carlisle's opinion of things somewhere around when my father and I first saw the Breaking Dawn promotional trailer at home. His look of utter burning discontent was pretty funny, given the only thing he's ever heard out of me regarding Twilight was a firm assertion that if my boyfriend were as creepy as Edward the only phonecall Daddy would be getting is one of 'I need a tarp and the big shovel.'

Carlisle is so...he worries about those people. (My people? God, I hope not.)

I can totally see his point. I'd love to see him in the Bar more often, too.

Aww, thank you! Yeah, I need to get everyone going a little bit more than I have been. <3

!

Observations on "It's My Party":

When combined with "Judy's Turn to Cry", the course of events appears to be: Johnny and Judy leave Lesley's party for a tête-à-tête, Johnny gives Judy his ring, they return; Lesley gets upset enough that she kisses "some other guy" (apparently she did not even pay attention to who); Johnny gets jealous, decides he still loves Lesley after all, and decks said other guy. From the sound of it, all this takes place within, what, maybe fifteen minutes?

Seriously, screw Johnny.

It is really a weird-ass song.

Also? So is "You're My Sunshine".

I'm getting multiple search results for that...

"You're my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray - you'll never know dear, how much i love you, please don't take my sunshine away."

Oh, that. Never seen it as a contraction before; I've always heard it as "you are". It threw me.

Happy birthday, sweets!

Ooh, I will totes leave you a prompt.

Mal-centric, any 'verse or situation you so choose: beat the devil and carry a rail

Happy Birthday!

I'll give you fic and maybe a prompt:
The tea had cooled as they sat in silence, neither sure of where to start. Finally, as the host, Uji cleared his throat and spoke up. "You know my family feels I have turned my back on them?"

"Yes, but I believe they still respect you. Their new leader does not inspire the loyalty you once wielded so effortlessly," Inara replied calmly with no hint of chastisement.

Uji took a sip of his tea, grimacing. "Our tea is cold," he replied before taking a few calming breaths and raising his chi to warm their cups. After another sip, he continued, "There."

"You are changing the subject."

"I am a humble Groundskeeper and tea house manger. Those days are behind me."

"There is nothing humble about you."

"Still, my place is here now."
------------------------------------

I have no idea what they are discussing.:\

As to a prompt...SARAH and Val von Doom baking brownies.

And I do not like how LJ is doing cookies anymore. Why for you break LJlogin?

Happy birthday! I don't have any good fic/fic ideas right this second but maybe my brain will wake up in a bit.

OH WAIT. This is not so much fic as deleted bonus material; a partial transcript of the emergency in-case-of-blackrom-puberty-only video Karkat did not have to leave for Nepeta, thanks to Kanaya's fortuitous arrival right before he left.

***

OKAY SO LISTEN UP, YOU KNOW AND I KNOW THAT THIS IS INCREDIBLY AWKWARD BECAUSE FIRST, I'M FUCKING DEAD AND SECOND, YOU ARE GETTING ALL KINDS OF PSYCHOTIC AS A RESULT OF HORRIBLE UNSETTLING TRANSITIONS HAPPENING IN PARTS OF YOUR BODY I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT AND YOU ARE PROBABLY RIGHTFULLY ASHAMED OF. IT IS ABOUT AS TAINTCHAFINGLY AWKWARD AS ANYTHING CAN EVER BE, SO LET'S JUST GET THAT FACT RIGHT OUT THERE AND PUT IT UP ON DISPLAY FOR US ALL TO ADMIRE AND CONSENT TO. NEVERTHEGODDAMNLESS...

NEVERTHEGODDAMNLESS THERE IS NO ONE ELSE AROUND WHO IS GOING TO BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU, WHICH MAKES IT MY HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE RESPONSIBILITY AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE I AM USING SOME OF MY LAST WORDS ON IT, SO YOU WILL BY GOD LISTEN TO THEM. BESIDES THERE IS NO ONE, ANYWHERE, WHO KNOWS AS MUCH ABOUT HATING PEOPLE AS I DO SO YOU ARE TALKING TO THE KING OF ALL EXPERTS. WELL, NOT TALKING TO. LISTENING TO, WHICH IS MUCH BETTER ANYWAY.

LOOK, THAT WAS ALL A BUNCH OF STUPID HORSESHIT THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT, ME BEING DEAD OR THIS BEING AWKWARD IS NOT THE POINT. THE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE HAVING A LOT OF WEIRD MURDEROUS URGES RIGHT NOW AND YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT IT'S NORMAL. IT'S COMPLETELY NORMAL AND YES, YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY BE ASHAMED OF IT. BUT IT IS NOT GOING TO GO AWAY JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT, IT IS IN YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR DNA AND WHILE YOU CAN PUNISH YOUR SHAME GLOBES TO RELIEVE THE PRESSURE OF YOUR FROTHING RAGE IT IS NOT REALLY A SUBSTITUTE FOR A REAL BLACKROM.

YOU ARE FAMILIAR BY NOW WITH PLATONIC HATRED OF COURSE AND LEARNING TO SEPARATE BLACKROM FROM THAT IS HARD. IT'S HARD AND NOBODY REALLY UNDERSTANDS HOW IT'S DONE. AND YOU'RE EVEN MORE FUCKED BECAUSE YOU ARE PROBABLY FEELING THIS REPULSION TOWARDS AN ALIEN SPECIES THAT HAS NO IDEA HOW TO RECIPROCATE, IF THEY EVEN CAN. BUT I HAVE MADE AN ELABORATE SURVEY OF THIS TOPIC AND WHILE SOME HUMANS WILL BE HORRIFIED BY THE THOUGHT OF A PASSIONATE RELATIONSHIP WITH SOMEONE THEY DESPISE, YOUR SITUATION IS NOT ENTIRELY HOPELESS. JUST MOSTLY HOPELESS.

ALL RIGHT HANG ON, THIS IS GETTING HORRIFICALLY DISORGANIZED, I AM GOING TO START OVER. WE WILL GET TO THE CRUSHING LONELINESS OF HAVING ALMOST NO CHANCE OF FINDING A SUITABLE KISMESIS AND THE BITTER TANG OF FORLORN HOPE IN DUE TIME, THIS PART IS ABOUT HOW YOU CAN'T GO AROUND MURDERING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE YOUR BLOOD IS FULL OF CRAZYSERUM. WELL, YOU CAN'T. COVERED THAT.

IN THE FIRST SPASMS OF SHADOW PUBESCENCE YOU WILL PROBABLY BE ANGRY ALL THE TIME, AT EVERYONE, OVER EVERY STUPID STUPID THING. OBVIOUSLY AGAIN THIS IS A TOPIC I KNOW ALL ABOUT. YOUR BRAIN IS PRODUCING HORMONES THAT WILL DRIVE YOU TO BE MORE AGGRESSIVE, MORE OBNOXIOUS AND MORE VOLATILE. IT IS TRYING TO HELP YOU PROVOKE BLACK ROMANCE AND BE ABLE TO RESPOND TO IT, BUT IF YOU ARE NOT AWARE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING YOU WILL PROBABLY TAKE SOME HEADS OFF BEFORE YOU FIGURE THAT OUT. JUST KEEP YOUR COOL AND TAKE IT OUT ON INNOCENT WILDLIFE LIKE USUAL. THE AGGRESSION, NOT THE PASSIONATE URGES. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF LONGING TO MAKE OUT WITH THE DEMONBUNNY YOU ARE WHALING ON, CONGRATULATIONS, IT IS DEFINITELY BLACKROM AND ALSO, YOU ARE WAY TOO FUCKED UP FOR ME TO EVER HELP YOU, YOU WILL HAVE TO SORT THAT OUT FOR YOURSELF.

NEXT....

I'm going to link to it again because I'm proud of it. I wrote more X-Men: First Class Fic, this one about books and philosophy.

Fic sounds like a wonderful distraction as well from the world as I'm having a week where it feels like things keep going wrong.

Happy Birthday!! And for your prompt, Something good this way comes with Carlisle.

Edited 2011-10-26 17:34 (UTC)

Happy birthday!

Fic elements for you: Mal, Stich, and cake. Go to!

Happy birthday! :D

Prompt (and I'd write it myself if I knew enough about Carlisle to do a proper characterization job):
'Bones' McCoy and Carlisle discuss bedside manner. Inspired by the 'Breaking Dawn' ad where Carlisle is about as subtle and comforting as an on-coming bullet train.

And you think I know McCoy enough to do a better one? You give me a lot of credit, m'dear. (Doesn't mean I'm not working on it.)

*points down* If it helps, you can laugh at my version of your vampire?

Again, to her great surprise, she finds she isn't dead, or lost in the Gloom. Unfortunately again, she feels the slightly scratchy linens of the infirmary under her back, and she can hear the beeping of various bits of medical machinery around her. This is beginning to become a nasty habit. She saw Olya's doctor, somewhere in the middle of that mess, and he'd already looked swamped with patients - Olya must have unbent enough to beg, to get him to take on yet another. She's sad she missed that - it would have been blackmail fodder for centuries.
Still, time to wake up, time to try and win her freedom from the infirmary, time to see if she could get through this round without being put in restraints. She still hasn't quite forgiven the doctor for pulling that trick. Maybe if she pretended she heard more hell-hounds... That trick would only work if Olya has found something better to do with herself than keep watch. Not very likely, then. Drat.
She opens her eyes, and is immediately confronted by a tall man, with amber-gold hair and amber-gold eyes, wearing a doctor's coat and a severe expression. Not Olya's doctor. Not a human doctor.
Vampire.
She swears, something foul and Russian and entirely heart-felt as she dives for the opposite side of the bed, clawing for the relative safety of the Gloom. But the fight with the hell-hounds has taken more out of her than she realizes. She ends her flight to freedom by re-breaking her right arm, twisting her left knee horribly, and ending up falling into the vampire's arms, who has somehow contrived to get between herself and the floor before she could get so far as to hit it properly.
She blinks at him.
He glowers at her for a long moment.
"That," He finally says, in clipped educated tones she somehow just wasn't expecting, "Was stupid. And my parents were married, and did not own a donkey."
She blinks some more.
"I have been told restraints are necessary in your case, but I did not believe my collegue. Do you intend on forcing the subject?"
Is he just a very confused vampire? Because right now she's a very confused battle mage. She blinks at him, hoping that maybe eventually she'll open her eyes to a world she understands.
"Very well." There's a hiss, and a sudden cold bite on her left arm, and before she can think to move the sedative delivered via hypospray swims to her brain and drops her back into the black hole of unconsciousness she just climbed out of. The much-put-upon doctor sighs, and man-handles his patient back into bed. While he believes his somewhat cantankerous collegue that this, of the two Russian Others who have earned a stay in the infirmary, is the safer for him to be around, he is beginning to wish that he'd taken over a few of Doctor McCoy's other patients instead.
He does really like the hyopsprays, though.

(Notes: Sorry for any failure in characterization, and yes, hell-hounds attacked the bar. Someday this needs to happen for much gratuitous violence. :D)

I don't know what you're talking about; Carlisle's goals in this are entirely right on. "Sigh, let's get you fixed" and "Oooh medical toys".

Perfect. <333

Yay! \o/

(Also now I kinda want them to meet. Katya will be so confused. Poor kitten.)

He would like to point out that he is the injured party, here. If anyone cares about that sort of thing. He was just trying to go back to his ship from the bar, and instead of walking onto his bridge, he's somehow managed to end up in the bowels of some sort of ship larger than anything he's even seen from the Alliance. Kaylee probably would already know what kind of ship this is, the degree of disrepair, and how best to get it back up to 110% with the amount of time he's had, but so far, he's got 'big', 'dark', and 'full of people in robes'. It's not an encouraging description so far.
"Mal!" Someone yalps behind him, accompanied by the clatter of metal. He turns, trying to keep his hands away from his guns just in case something like that might get misconstrued, and is entirely not ready for the tackle-hug that knocks him back a few feet.
"Mal it's been ages how did you get here wait Wash isn't with you right if they don't like what I do they really won't like his deal with the lady and wait is everyone here 'cause that could get awkward fast an' we need to keep Jayne away from the guns that'd be bad like epically universe-ending levels of bad and... you... are alone, and lost, and..." The torrent of words slows as the girl he knows as Wash's crazy and sometimes-comprehensible adoptive sister suddenly looks sad. "You didn't mean to be here at all, did you?"
He'd like to lie to her, but she doesn't give him the chance.
"Never mind, best to get you home then, you'd have an easier time than me, I'm meant to be here, after all, causitive reality an' all that, I'd probably break sommat important if I tried t'weasel out of it." She rattles on, grabbing his hand and, whilst ignoring the staring robed men with great aplomb, tows him back in the direction he came from. He tries to interrupt again, and is swamped in words.
"Not that I'm not happy t'see you an' all but it is a war y'know an' they aren't terribly particular 'bout who they kill, just that they do, an' Wash'd drop me out an airlock or sommat if you got killed an' I really hate explosive decompression it's a real pain in the arse to come back from an'..."
Mal can't stand it anymore, running her verbal blockade over with a torrent of Mandarin - it's worked in the past. She's usually so curious about what the words mean she actually shuts up for more than two seconds and lets a fellow get a question in edgewise.
This time she just grins.
"Yup, m'parents were that bad an' I wouldn't be surprised at all but I'm fairly sure that Spooney would protest if I started doin' that to the goats. Sorry, I've got m'translator in, they forget around here that some of my technical Gallifreyan is as rusty as the bottom of a iron tub left out in the rain. See y'round, Cap'n." Then she shoves him, hard and sharp while muttering something under her breath that sounds fluid and seems to seep into his brain like honey.

A waitrat stares down at him, and chitters inquiringly. He tries the same few curses in Mandarin that he threw at Ace, experimentally. The rat shakes his head, and trots off. Everybody's a critic.

(IDEK where this came from. *eyes it*)

Daily Entertainment.

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Somehow current Milliways-ish thing maybe IDEK.

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Carlisle-Katya, That's Not How it Works

Re: Carlisle-Katya, That's Not How it Works

Re: Carlisle-Katya, That's Not How it Works

Mal-Ace, Interruptions in a Time War