Neverland

information

2007-06-08T18:40:30Z

Good morning, I'm mackeygenius' sister and I want to tell you that the fictions of sister will be stop.

I want to tell you that she shot herself yesterday and I want to know if you have inforlation about the causes of her death.

Please if you have informations send I an e-mail to: lord_noir@hotmail.com

Thanks for your help.

Criminal Minds

2007-05-19T20:07:58Z

I just bought the first season of Criminal Minds, I absolutly LOVE this show. Reminds me slightly of CSI (when it was still good), even though the relationships between the characters is more developped in CM.

I might have a slight crush on Spencer Reid, he's cute, you know, in the genius kind of way.

Agent Jason Gideon is cool, at first I thought I'll never stop seeing the actor as a Grim Reaper (in Dead like Me) but I was wrong.

Penelope Garcia is great, she reminds me of Mac in VM. Her wittiness is fun and lightens the atmosphere.

In conclusion, I'm really frustrated because in France only the season 1 is out and it ends on a nasty cliffhanger. That's so unfair, I want to know what happens.

All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2

2007-05-19T08:54:21Z

I want to hunt Kripke down and beat him with a shovel!

I can't believe Dean made a deal (alright, it's totally believable even if I hate it). One year? *whimpers* I'm disappointed with the death of the YED, I found it too easy. Bobby and Ellen were fantastic.

Is it wrong of me if I like Evil!Sam?

All Hell Breaks Loose

2007-05-12T20:57:37Z

All Hell Breaks Loose review

We finally got the brothers hugging!

Only drawback, it took Sam dying for it to happen. *shakes head*

Kripke is a MEAN bastard, last season he killed the impala and now it's the Roadhouse, he wants me crying, I swear!

I'm pissed off because he also offed Ash and Andy. I LOVED Andy, he was so cute and funny in the Ghost Town. I can't find in me to blame Jake for killing Sam, it was heartbreaking, specially when we saw how well they worked together, in other circumstances they could have been friends.

Dean, *squee* he was so awesome. I understand why JA got nominated for his prestance in this episode. The way he acts when Sam falls. *whimper* It broke me.

I only hope Dean isn't going to make a deal with the YED.

I'm not sure what I think about Sam having demonic blood.

Snapshots, (Sam!girl verse)

2007-05-02T08:40:34Z

Title: Snapshots
Author: Mackeygenius
Disclaimer: Don't own them
Warning: UST
Summary: Sam's life through snapshots.
A/N: First installment of my Sam!girl_verse serie, betaed by the wonderful mf_luder_xf.

4.

She watches him in the bathroom mirror, his tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration. She observes every move, trying to memorize them for later. It looks difficult. Divide in three equal parts, then you take one thread and you lace it with the one next to it, then the other one. And you repeat the process, again and again.

A few minutes later, after a few failed attempts, she stares at her brother's work in amazement. She squeals in joy at the result, turning around and hugging him, saying a muffled thank you against his chest.

She might not have a mommy to braid her hair but she's got Dean.

6.

As soon as the class is over, she runs toward her brother, beaming, proudly brandishing her grammar test. He takes it from her hands and grins as he reads the grade.

"Very good, Sammy," he says, patting her on the head.

After school, when they go back to the apartment, Dean pins the bright ‘A’ on the fridge. Like that, when Dad comes back from the hunt, he'll see it.

8.

She's going to die, her body admitting defeat against an ancient demonic curse.

It's too warm, her head hurts and her skin itches. She feels a familiar calloused hand against her forehead, hears the gravelly low voice of her father coaxing her gently to drink an awful potion. It tastes like piss. Oops, maybe she says that out loud because Dad is looking at her brother and doesn't seem to be very happy.

Days go by, and she's changing into a monster, her skin now covered with red spots. She wants to scratch them but Dean grabs her wrist and explains she can't because it would leave scars if she does.

Her mouth is stuffed with cotton and it's too hot in here. Annoyed, she keeps pushing away the covers but Dean always put them back on and stares at her with a disapproving frown. Later, when her fever breaks, Dean is still really nice and lets her hog the remote and choose the cartoons she wants.

10.

Dean is acting weird or maybe she never realized he acts this way with girls before.

He's smarmy.

Seeing him flirt is disgusting and puke inducing. Yet, it's like a trainwreck you can't help but watch; the wriggling eyebrows, the cocky smirk mixed with the baby and sweetheart in a Texas drawl, it's so cliché. The worst is it's working, she’s appalled at the number of girls falling for this crap.

One day she finds him kissing Katherine Adams. She's a cheerleader, blonde, tall, stupid. He could do so much better but she's not dumb or naive; it's not in her sparkling conversation her brother is interested.

For once, when they leave town, Sam doesn't complain.

12.

Men do not know the meaning of the word 'pain'. She thinks it's ridiculous and rather scandalous that history, and life in general, consider them stronger than women. She'd like to see them suffering through PMS or giving birth. Let's see who's tougher then.

Dad and Dean are uncomfortable at recognizing the fact she's a girl and she takes advantage of that. When she's got a really important test or she really doesn't want to go hunting, she uses the excuse of 'feminine problems'. It's her trump card, so she uses it sparingly. The words 'bra' and 'tampons' render the Winchester men helpless, they're always in a hurry to leave after the beginning of her speech. After that, she can enjoy some quiet time alone in the apartment they're renting for the moment, doing her homework and eating chocolate.

3.

Sometimes she wishes she was a boy, that way she would win when sparring against Dean, like, every single time.

Even though she's a girl, it doesn't stop her beating him.

Once.

Dean, sore loser that he is, contests of course. And ok, maybe her gain of the upper hand might have involved her kneeing him in the groin, but a win was a win. Besides, they're Winchesters, fighting dirty is like a rule.

14.

One morning, she wakes up to discover she nearly can look at Dean eye to eye.

She's taller than most boys in her grade. It's awkward and she feels even more like a freak than usual.

Her sudden grow spurt sucks; her joints hurt, she's got cramps and her coordination is shot to hell. She's got to learn to fight all over again, it pisses her off because she's wasting her time. Honestly, she doesn't see the point in training. She doubts knowing Latin or how to handle a shotgun will help her to find a real job.

15.

The human body possesses five litres of blood; she learned that in biology class but it's another thing altogether to see it.

A bad run with a black dog nearly leaves Dean hanging with his insides out.

She begs her father for a hospital but they're in the middle of fucking nowhere; in the end she has to stitch Dean in the car as their father pushes on the accelerator. Her fingers, slippery with blood, hold the needle tightly as she concentrates on closing the numerous wounds on Dean's stomach, trying unsuccessfully to block out his groans of pain. Several minutes later, Dean passes out and Sam thanks God for small favors.

When they're back in their motel room, she's too drained to scream at their father for his lack of better judgment and passes him silently on her way to the bathroom. They nearly lost Dean, it was a close call this time. Too close. She always knew Dad was obsessed with hunting, she understood why but it doesn’t excuse the fact that he nearly got Dean killed. And her stupid brother is too loyal to go against Dad's orders.

She sighs as scalding water hits her back, roughly scrubbing her hands clean, leaning her forehead against the cool tiles as the tears come. Soon she's sobbing, a hand on her mouth muffling the noise. She can't keep doing this because one day their luck is going to run out and one of them will die.

It might be selfish but she doesn't want to be here to see which one of them will fall first.

16.

Sweet sixteen. This expression, complete bullshit.

She nearly dies that year, the target of an incubus. Needless to say, that experience put her off sex for several months, which is a shame because boys finally got their grow spurts and she's no longer staring for the role of the Jolly Green Giant.

No, sixteen for Sam is terrible.

She manages to see Dean getting a blow job in the parking lot. She was supposed to be at a friend's house, doing a science project, but they finished sooner than expected. Dean and the girl are too engrossed in what they're doing to notice her. Her brother is such an exhibitionist. Blood rushes to her cheeks as she finds herself unable to look away.

She's always been aware Dean is attractive, for years her numerous friends grilled her often enough about her brother to make her know he was definitely eye candy material.

Her mouth is dry as she watches Dean, eyes closed, biting his lower lip as he digs his fingers into the girl's scalp. Seeing her brother as a sexual being is disturbing and it shouldn't make her stomach flutter like that. Suddenly unsettled, she retreats before getting caught, heading to a cheap coffee shop, deciding to come back later. As she slowly sips her frappucino, a detail comes back to her mind.

Funny, she never saw him with a brunette before, usually he always stick to blondes.

17.

She stares at the card in her palm, wondering if she's going to able to convince Dad to let her do it. It would be easy money and she'll need it for college. Besides, she also wants to be able to afford a good birthday present for Dean; he's been eying a silver ring lately in a jewlery shop next to their apartment. She knows this thought isn't completely selfless, she's trying to assuage her conscience about keeping Dean in the dark about her plans for the next year.

After many arguments, she manages to convince her dad to let her do some photo shoots but only if Dean plays the chaperone.

She meets her first boyfriend there. Duncan is funny and nice and hot in the dark blonde-blue-eyes-soccer player sort of way; he's also her first kiss. So what? She's got a type, doesn't mean anything.

She admits she's screwed when one day she finds herself wishing he had green eyes.

18.

Stanford is harder than she expects but she's got nowhere else to go, now. If you pass this door, you'd better stay gone, you hear me? Several times, she nearly calls them but one thing always stops her. Pride.

The first week at the dorm is hell, she can't sleep and finds herself missing odd things: the sound of Dean cleaning the guns, or Dad writing in his journal, or the low rumble of the Impala. Finally, she finds a trick and hopes Dean will never hear about it. Each night, she puts her walkman on and gets lulled to sleep by Blue Oyster Cult and Metallica.

She gets a job at the library and becomes friend with a guy also working there. His name is Zach. Later, he introduces her to his sister who becomes her best friend.

20.

She spends the night of her birthday playing nursemaid to her brother, missing the surprise party Becky organized for her. Two years without a call and he only shows up because he's injured; it stings a little, but she's too happy to see him to care.

They don't talk much as Dean is a little sluggish from the painkillers. She nestles against his unwounded side, remembering the times when they used to share a bed when they were younger; when she was still certain her brother was a bulletproof hero.

The next day, he's still sleeping when she goes out to buy breakfast. On the way back, she meets Becky who tears her a new one for her absence and for a short girl, she sure has no difficulty yelling loud.

After some smudged version of the truth, she heads back to her dorm, two cups of coffee and a bag of McMuffins in hands.

The smile on her face disappears when she opens the door and finds an empty bed. She's no longer hungry, just disappointed.

She sighs as she sits on her bed, frowning when she feels something digging in her lower back. There's a large envelope on which is written Happy Birthday, Sammy in a painfully familiar chicken scrawl. Inside, there is the most gorgeous silver blade with a curved edge she's ever seen.

22.

She can't believe how lucky her life turned out to be in Palo Alto.

The perfect boyfriend, great LSAT scores, an interview for the school of her dreams.

She listens to Jesse's voicemail in her ear, wondering what the hell she's doing in Jericho when she could be with him. But she already knows the answer and it has little to do with Dad, everything to do with Dean because he asked and because she missed him.

The little roadtrip was fun. Sam would have liked it better if Constance Welch hadn't try to kill her, but you can't always get what you want.

Back at Stanford, she wishes she knew what words to say to make the departure less bitter, but she doesn’t. So she watches as the Impala disappears into the night and heads back toward the normal world.

One second.

That’s all it takes to have her perfect life reduced to ashes.

END

A/N: My Sam is Simone Bailly, they've got the same eyes and lips, only the dimple isn't at the right place. http://www.imdb.com/gallery/hh/1140759/HH/1140759/iid_1017725.jpg.html?path=pgallery&path_key=Bailly,%20Simone

Jesse is Chris Lowell.
http://www.imdb.com/gallery/granitz/5215/Events/5215/ChrisLowel_Cohen_10431829_400.jpg.html?path=pgallery&path_key=Lowell,%20Chris

Livebox are EVIL!

2007-04-18T12:03:17Z

I've no longer internet. Again.

Sucks.

Currently at a cybercafe using an old account, checking my mails and LJ.

Honestly I loath Orange and the Livebox, they're evil things. Mine just stopped working two days ago, no more internet, no more TV channels.

The 'helping customers' line is shitty, at best. There is this awful waiting music which drives me crazy. Every time I hear it I want to break something. I've called at least 5 times and nobody answered me yet.

So yeah, I'm ranting because I'm fed up and I hate them!

You reap what you sow

2007-04-11T13:27:52Z

Title: You reap what you sow
Author: Mackeygenius
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: Nc-17
A/N: Written for the Spring Hiatus Ficathon, for cloud_sprite, the prompt was: Peter is in trouble when Nathan finds him.
Thanks to mf_luder_xf and lunais_cross for the amazing betaing.

His hair smells like pot and the taste of tequila still lingers on his tongue as he slides into his room stealthily; an ability he mastered these past two years in hope of eluding the increasing confrontations he has with his father. Shedding his leather jacket and stifling a yawn, his eyes glance blurrily at his alarm clock glowing in the dark. It's very late or very early in the morning, depending on your point of view and the only thing he wants to do is slide in his bed and sleep for weeks.

"Is this some kind of cry for attention?"

He freezes at the voice behind his back, mentally berating himself because he should have expected it. He swallows heavily, the nice fuzzy feelings from earlier dissolving; Nathan has a way of sobering people up. There's the sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps heading in his direction but he's rooted on the spot, unable to move.

"Because let me tell you, Pete, right now, you've certainly got mine."

He knows better than to trust the tone of his brother's voice. It might sound collected but it's just the calm before the storm. Suppressing a sigh, he decides the sooner he faces it, the sooner it's over. Peter hates how much Nathan emulates their father, he doesn't need light to know his brother is crossing his arms over his chest and looking at him with a disapproving frown.

"Where were you?"

Ah, the perpetual questioning. Can't say he missed it. Sometimes he gets the feeling Nathan acts more like a parent than a brother. The condescension in Nathan's tone irks him.

Nathan wants to play the grown up? Fine. He'll play the brat.

"Out." Succinct answer, no elaboration, all the ingredients to piss Nathan off.

"Don't play smart, it's four in the morning."

Peter's laid back nature is definitely absent at the moment and yeah, the pot kind of drown his survival instinct.

“Good powers of observation, I'm impressed, but spare me the lecture. I've got Dad for that." says Peter, nonchalantly. "I believe you know the way out."

"Oh no, you're not getting away with it so easily," states Nathan, squeezing his brother's shoulder rather painfully. "You owe me an explanation, because I was the one Mom called tonight and who spent fifty minutes listening her hysterical ravings about how Dad and you are at each other’s throats. Again. What is about you threatening to leave?"

"Sorry for the inconvenience but you know how Mom is when she starts popping pills," replies Peter. "Always tends to exaggerate."

Nathan is literally seething now, his anger comes in waves, threatening to crush him.

“I have enough with the attitude. Don't you think you're a little too old for the teenage rebellion?" wonders Nathan snidely. "Jesus Christ, Peter, I'm the youngest lawyer at the DA office, I don't have time to play buffer between you and Dad."

"I didn't ask you for anything. Believe it or not, I'm able to deal with problems on my own."

"Yeah, I can see that with you getting drunk and high," shoots back Nathan with irony. "Smart move."

Peter glares at him, balling his hands into fists. His brother has a way of making him feel stupid and two years old; it's frustrating. True, he admits taking pot hadn't been his brightest idea but the possibility of being able to forget how he failed to reach his father's expectations, once again, had been a relief.

"What's the problem, now?" asks Nathan with a resigned sigh.

"None of your business," he says through gritted teeth.

"Wrong again. You're my brother, whether you want it or not, you always will be my business ."

"Fine. Dad just can't handle the fact that one of his sons is queer."

"Nonsense." scoffs Nathan, brushing him off. "You're young, you don't know what you want."

"Fuck you, Nathan, stop telling me how I should feel," he hisses. "I'm fed up of you and Dad patronizing me, I've made up my mind. I'm leaving this house."

"No, you're not. First, you'll break Mom's heart and two, you're seventeen."

"I'll be eighteen in a week, old enough. I'm not one of your pawns, you can't control me."

"Tough." states Nathan, pushing his younger brother in the chest. "Time to learn we don't always get what we want."

Peter loses his balance as his knees collide with the bed and soon finds himself sprawled on the bed.

"You done playing the little brat?" he questions, pinning Peter with his weight as he grabs flaying limbs in his hands. "Because you're going to listen to me now."

"Let go of me," Peter hisses, but Nathan's hands are like unbreakable shackles around his wrists; despite struggling, Peter finds himself unable to shrug off Nathan. "I'll scream."

"No, you won't," shoots back Nathan, grabbing both wrists in one hand. "You won't take the risk of waking them up."

What goes through Nathan's head at this moment, Peter has no idea, but he nearly dies of shock when Nathan grabs his crotch, squeezing lightly and Peter can't breathe, can't quite realize what's happening. It's wrong, even through the haze of drugs, he knows that, however, it doesn't stop him from getting hard. He feels like he should protest when Nathan's left hand expertly pop his jeans open but the words just don't come. All he can do is stare at his brother in bewilderment, shivering as he feels puffs of warm breath against his cheek.

"Nathan..." he begins breathlessly, blood rapidly pounding in his ears.

He moans when the hand slides inside his boxers, strong fingers wrapping themselves around his erected cock. The sensation of cold metal against his skin sends jolts to his spine.

"Is this what you want?"

He doesn't recognize his brother's voice, rough and thick with arousal and he's choking on want and fear and forbidden. His conscience shuts up, though, when Nathan starts stroking, fast and hard, as if he knows exactly the way Peter likes it. He nods, surrendering, eyes fluttering shut when Nathan's lips crush upon his. It's a battle, as usual, Nathan's got to be the one in control but here, Peter can't bring himself to care. The moment his wrists are released, he entwines himself like a snake around Nathan's broad shoulders, sighing as Nathan's fingers, slick with precome, slide inside. Nathan's fingers are wide and blunt, stretching him and Peter loves the sensation, offering lazy kisses as Nathan's other hand joins the party and resumes jerking him off.

“You like that, don't you?" It is more a statement than a question. "You'll learn, little brother, that sex is always enjoyable if it's done right. The gender of the person has little to do with it. I bet you've never been harder in your life; what does it feel like, Pete? Knowing you're getting off on your brother's fingers. Feel any shame yet?"

Peter chokes on a moan, pushing his hips restlessly against the strong digits, shivering each time he feels the ring brush against his asshole. Nathan's precious Princeton ring is splitting him open which thrills and turns on Peter like nothing else before.

"See, you don't care," announces Nathan, speeding up his rhythm. "Sex is just sex. You can like it with both women and men. It's perfectly normal."

Peter listens distractively, his senses too focused on the hands making him lose his mind. He shakes when Nathan crooks his fingers and hits his prostate again and suddenly he's coming, burying his head in the crook of his brother's neck and biting on his shoulder to muffle his groan of pleasure. A few seconds later, he lets his head fall back on the bed, panting heavily, spent. He can feel his brother's erection digging against his hip but Nathan ignores it as he wipes his hands clean on Peter's bedsheet.

"In a few months, you'll leave home for college. You'll have plenty opportunities to experiment there, it's alright to be curious at your age. But for the time being, please, Pete, be discreet and don't flaunt it in Dad's face, ok?"

Peter stares at his brother, stunned to see him talk so normally after what they've just done. His self-righteous anger, so strong earlier, is gone. He got Nathan's point. Though he got the impression his brother just played him.

"Ok." he murmurs, licking his swollen lips. "Ok."

"Good." says Nathan, patting his cheek and standing up, unwrinkling his shirt. "Now, go to sleep and tomorrow after taking a shower, you'll go downstairs and eat breakfast with us. Dad won't say anything, I'll take care of it."

Peter passes a shaking hand over his eyes.

"One more thing," adds Nathan. "I don't want to see you in this state ever again. No more getting high. I'm not particularly fond at the idea of learning you took a swan dive from a roof of a building because you thought you could fly."

And on those words, Nathan leaves, closing the door and heading toward his old room. Peter sighs, staring at the ceiling, he vaguely thinks he should feel guilty but all he feels is post orgasmic bliss.

END

SPN 2x10 : my opinion on the ep aka pure-fangirl babbling

2007-01-13T18:34:45Z

Finally managed to see it thanks to Devoted.com. Still sitting on my ass in shock.

One of my favorite episodes of season 2 with Croatoan. *Squeal* So glad we finally learnt what said John, I knew it!

I LOVE Ava!!! Really she's the first girl (I mean young cause Ellen's awesome) I'm able to stomach (Cassie and Joe always bored/annoyed me, well, Jessica, I kind of grew into her with time); she's sweet and I can totally see her with Sam. I even joined the new com Ava/Sam, I think those two have a lot of potential. Plotbunnies are knocking at my door.

Hmm, favorite moments, what to say there are so many:
- Again. The revelation about John's last words. Asking Dean to kill Sam if he turned evil is messed up since Sam's the only reason which keeps Dean sane. Dean said the word 'please', several times, he begged Sam. That moment totally melted me.

*hugs Kripke because he so deserves it*

And Sam's anger in front of Dean's lie. Awesome. I thought it was fair, like some sort of payback for the first season when Sam didn't tell Dean about his prophetic dreams.

- Gordon getting his ass kicked. Never gets old. Honestly.

- Dean wanting to waste Gordon after seeing Sammmy's bloody face. He's so hot when he's in protective/vengeful brother mod.

- Knowing the psychic children are the soldiers of the future Good VS Evil war. That's so cool, I'm sure this revelation is going to bring more apocalyptic fics in the fandom. :p

- The end of the episode leading to another whole bunch of questions. Where is Ava? Was she kiddnapped or was she some kind of Undercover Meg and slashed her fiance's throat? What's with the sulfur thing also seen in 2x09? Will Sam see the YED in his dreams too?

Replacement, Dean/Nathan, SPN/Heroes

2007-01-07T03:21:45Z

Title: Replacement
Author: Mackeygenius
Rating: Nc-17
Pairing: Dean/Nathan, allusion Sam/Dean, Nathan/Peter
Spoiler: None.
Warning: Let me think... slash, incest, that's all.
Notes: Written for the Heroes pornathon, my prompt was Dean/Nathan, incest. Hope you'll enjoy it, reviews are like cookies for me so feel free to send some. A big thanks to mf_luder_xf for the betaing.

Little brothers are a pain in the ass.

You never thought that sentence would be a pick-up line, even with your ability to fuck everything (human and breathing your only standards). Looks like you were wrong. Not that you're complaining.

A few beers, some idle chat, the realization that both of your brothers are ungrateful, little brats lead to you down on your knees in the stall of a seedy bathroom bar of New York. Your lips are wrapped around his cock and you feel his fingers tightening in your hair, sometimes slipping, as though he expected it to be longer. You shut up the voice which tells you it's wrong because he fucking left; you don't have to feel guilty about this. Suddenly irritated, you notice you subconsciously chose his complete opposite. Short hair, no dimples in sight, and a foreign air of ruthlessness. You speed up, head bobbing up and down, sucking the hard shaft leaking pre-cum into your mouth. The taste is salty and bitter on your tongue. You relax your throat, taking his dick deeper until your nose is burried in dark curls and you are rewarded by muffled grunts and an unexpected jerk of hips. You slide your hands on them, holding them down, applying enough pressure to be certain there would be bruises tomorrow as you continue to suck him better than a $5,000 whore would.

It doesn't take much time before his body tenses and come floods your mouth. You swallow everything, not wasting a drop, stopping only when his fingers start to dig painfully in your shoulders. Standing up, your cock pressing painfully against the zipper of your jeans, you let him push you against the closed door of the stall. You grab his tie around your fist, dragging his face toward yours and for a split second, his eyes warm. You know for sure someone did this before you, someone he cared about, because his mechanical stance is gone. You would bet your right arm it was the man nurse-to-be. You've got no proof, but it's a gut feeling and those are the only things keeping you alive, now.

Ironic that you fall on the same kind of freak as you, even if this one was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Guess you're not so unique, after all.

You smash your lips against his roughly, no need to be gentle with a stranger. It's a furious clash of teeth; lips split, blood and saliva trade, hiding the underlying taste of bourbon and the smell of expensive cologne. Which are wrongwrongwrong because it should be mint and cinnamon, and how much crap did you give him for that, anyway? You rest your head against the door, observing him as his hands give a sharp tug on your belt. Then your pants are pooling around your feet and his right hand is wrapped around your dick.

Quick, efficient pulls makes you grunt, the fingers are strong but missing a scar between the index and middle finger. You groan as he viciously pushes his thumb about the slit of your cock, causing you to grow even harder.

Absently, you wonder if you're being jerked off by the future version of your brother. Grin is gone replaced by calculative eyes and greed, empty in spite of having a beautiful wife, the white fence and the 2.5 kids. The hand stroking you goes faster and you finally lose control when he bites into your throat hard.

When you win your breath back, if your mind whispers a different name than Nathan, you don't acknowledge it.

END

Squee, I'm Sam

2007-01-07T01:57:40Z

Thanks to mf_luder_xf, I took this quizz and found out I'm Sammy!!!

Which Supernatural character are you?

You're Sam! Smart, kind, and all-around good guy. You care about people and you always try to do the right thing. But there's more to you than meets the eye -- if someone gets on your bad side, they better watch out.
Take this quiz!

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TV show incest obsession

2007-01-05T14:35:09Z

Is it just me or lately some TV shows offer us so much hot brothers that you can't help but be turned by the dark side of the force? For your information, I have totally and shamelessly fallen into the incest abyss.

Warning: Vague spoilers for Heroes 1x02, 10,1x11 and SPN Croatoan.

The top 3:

1) - Petrellicest aka Nathan/Peter (Heroes): Honestly with all the touching, the hugs and the eyefucks, you begin to wonder. They're connected (Peter saw Nathan's car accident) , Peter might drive Nathan crazy but he's always there to get him out of trouble (i.e. let him out of prison). In 1x10 (six months ago), when they're on the couch at Peter's party you can't tell me you didn't love the kiss. (Ok, it was on the forehead but still).

I think Peter and Nathan are both sides of the same coin, they've got different personnality but they complement each other (like Sam and Dean).

2) - Wincest aka Sam/Dean (SPN): I could write pages about them. The idea of those two together totally make my ovaries burst. Their relationship is so complicated but they would die for each other (see Bloody Mary or Croaton) and Kripke is nice enough to give us some wincest allusions (Bugs, Something Wicked). They're only in second position because the Petrelli Boys touch more than them, could change though.

Hey Kripke, if you're reading this, make Sam drown and Dean give him mouth to mouth. ;p You would totally be my hero. Forever. Honestly. *brain freeze at the image/I so need to write a fic about it*

3) - Pacest aka Charlie/Liam (Lost): Ok, I know there's not many people for this pairing but they're my first incest couple. I totally picked the (unresolved) sexual tension vibes between them and I found it very cool since we saw Liam once. And in only one episode they got a group of followers and a community. Don't even get me started with Liam's nickname for Charlie: 'Baby brother' with this English accent... makes me melt every single time.

Peter and Nathan remind me them. Charlie and Peter are both dreamers, and get screwed (sadly not literrally) by their brothers. Liam destroys Charlie's music dream and self confidence, Nathan announces at the press conference Peter's suicide attempt (which was untrue) to cover the flying thing. Both Liam and Nathan can be extremely selfish, their own interests coming first.

SHAME ON ME!

How could I forget those two?

4) Michael/Lincoln (Prison Break) : The guy commits a crime to get his brother out of prison, if it isn't love. The hug during Riot best scene ever!

J squared rambling

2007-01-03T14:17:11Z

My God, I had my first RPS dream last night, starring Jared and Jensen of course. *sighs dreamily*

My brain is still leaking out of my ears as I speak. Surfer!Jensen and Surfer!Jared. I don't think it's ever been written, such a shame. Honestly people, wouldn't they be hot? That was a rhetoric question.

But back to my dream, it began like this: Surfer!Jared, young champion, was training for a big competition and of course new comer Surfer!Jensen arrives. Tension, rivality leading to friendship and hot sex. :p

Isn't it wonderful? Honestly I want to keep having dreams like that. I know it's short but since I'm not using lj-cut, I let out the NC-17 rated bits.

A little quizz

2006-11-21T00:30:43Z

Why do you kill? Girls only. (Kool Pictures And Detailed Results)

You Kill For Revenge.
Someone was tooken from you and you have never gotten over it. You plan to mercilessily slaughter the person or people who did this to you and wish you could do it again and again. You feel out of place at times but have those few friends that help you along and you love music.
Personality: Depressed, Dark
Weapon: Weapons Of Torture
Expression/Action: Crying, or Hanging your head
Most Common Feeling: Sadness
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SPN: Simon Said (babble again) / Cry Wolf

2006-10-29T03:11:30Z

Fantastic episode!!! So much love, I was disappointed with CSPWDT (end excluded) but here I have no complaint.

The plot was great, Andy and his Evil!Twin were awesome. I love Sam obsessing over the idea of becoming a viscious killer. So much struggle. So much angst. Gah. Kripke you ROCK !!!!

Don't let me get started with Dean. Dean begging the Impala's forgiveness; *squee* being forced to tell the truth *too funny* with Sam being all 'Dude,WTH?!!' *dies laughing*

Anyone noticed Sam's visions are getting stronger and more violent? I swear to God that if the writers make him get an aneurysm I'm kicking their asses! I can't help but think brain damage each time he gets one now.

Dean nearly biting a bullet had me gaping in disbelief behind the screen, might have let out one curse or two in the process.

Oh, one thing is sure now, I'm a Jo's haters. I don't like her, I don't see why they put her here. HIn my opinion her character has no substance, she's just a pseudo buffy (without superpowers) who's going to look pretty and get herself kidnapped (yeah, I read the episode guide). Honestly I hope she gets herself killed and I PRAY that she's not one of the psychic people.

***

Finally saw Cry Wolf, god, was I disappointed. I know it's pretty stupid but I just heard it was a horror movie with JP and that it was good. I'm French so I didn't really pay attention to the title and thought 'Ok, it's going to be a werewolf movie since there's the word wolf'. I didn't watch if it was an expression, so I'm watching the movie and waiting for the werewolf.

3O minutes after the beginning I'm wondering why it's getting all Urban Legend and why there's STILL no werewolf in sight. So I reread the title, not understanding (I can be a little slow sometimes :p) and the light bulb appears. In the end I watched the whole movie, it was boring. I had to download it and could only grab it in French version, Jared's voice... Aouch! His sexy Texas accent was replaced by an atrocity, really he had the typical 'Dumb Guy' voice. He looked better than in House of Wax though (also a shitty movie).

Fell back into GA

2006-10-19T23:37:12Z

I'm so doomed, I told myself at the end of season 2 I was going to stop watching the show because Meredith was really getting on my nerves and I bawled like a baby at Dennis' death. My favorite character is Addison, followed closely by Bailey so yeah I hate Whining!Meredith with all my soul, I also want to kick Derek's ass because for me he's more McShitty than McDreamy.

Anyway I watched the first episodes of the season 3 and holy mother of god! McSteamy is back!!! *shrieks* I'm now a total Madison freak, though I'm still a little addeky sometimes.

Got in a quest of GA and Kate Walsh icons.

Can't wait to see some madison action, again. I'm so doomed.

Not my week

2006-10-14T14:40:21Z

Thursday I managed to break my pinkie toe against a door.

Really, first time I break a bone and how? Not by doing sport, no, just walking. That's so pathetic, God, I'm such a klutz. And it hurt, damnit!

My father kept repeating me it was nothing and I believed him even though hello, it was swollen and black blue! Anyway, got an appointment to the doctor today and he confirmed it. Also got my tetanos shot, I HATE NEEDLES!

Friday 13th was yesterday but I swear it's continuing for me today.

My misery got me a SNP bunny: Sam or Dean are going to have a shitty thing happening to them not during a hunt but during normal moments. (Maybe Sam will break a bone like me or I'll make Dean choke on pancakes). Yeah, I won't be the only one to suffer.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan aka Pa Winchester is damn hot!

2006-09-05T18:25:16Z

I had an epiphany about Jeffrey Dean Morgan during my summer vacation. The guy is really, really hot. One of my friends offered me the firt part of season 4 of CSI. I had the joy to discover Pa Winchester in 4.02 playing a cop under cover.

Let me just tell you, I drooled and drooled again. Tight jeans, sleeveless shirt, leather wrist band. All those muscles, wow, in Supernatural Dean and Sam are the ones put in better view, we never saw Pa Winchester shirtless and that's a real shame.

I had the chance to see him in Grey's Anatomy but there he's playing a guy with a heart problem so he's not really hot.

So back to the topic, I've never realized how much JDM was hot. JDM fans, just watch this episode you'll be happy trust me.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, by Mackeygenius

2006-06-29T16:21:45Z

Title: Nothing is ever going to be the same
Author: Mackeygenius
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Words count: ~360
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess
Summary: But Dean doesn't get it, he stares at me, eyes wet with hope, pleading for something I can't give.
A/N: betaed by the amazing horror_goddess, thanks girl.

Wanting everything back to the way it was before Stanford is just not possible. Too many things changed, there are too many lies, too many secrets, too many blames and half truths. But Dean doesn't get it, he stares at me, eyes wet with hope, pleading for something I can't give.

It used to be so simple when we were teens, before I reached sixteen and realized hunting wasn't everything. The problem is I grew tired of the never ending bruises won by fighting against another monster, tired of Dad's little crusade and even my brother's presence couldn't make me stay. I learned to forget the desperate kisses, the quick fumbling in the dark after one too many close calls. I soon dulled the vivid memories into gray, focusing myself only on being normal and college. Then I met Jess, beautiful, loving and caring Jess. I lost myself in her golden tresses, soft skin and vanilla scent, trying to erase the feel of familiar stubble, the tender caresses of calloused hands and musky scent haunting me.

But my dream of an 'apple pie, a white fence and 2.4 kids' life crumbled like a poor castle of cards, burnt away on a ceiling with the only girl I ever loved. Revenge drives me and I won't stop until the demon responsible for such atrocities is dead. Dean talks about family, about being together, it hurts to break the fantasy which he's been holding onto for so long but for once I have to be honest. I can't let him hope for something which is never going to be. When the crusade is over, I won't go back to being Dad's little soldier. Not even for Dean. It might be selfish but I can't just cross the four years at Stanford as a mistake because then Jess's death would be meaningless.

The betrayal and the hurt at my admission is written all over Dean's face, I don't have to be psychic to see it. Nothing is ever going to be the same. Too many things changed, There are too many lies, too many secrets, too many blames and half truths. No, nothing is ever going to be the same.

END.

Bought DA DVD, drool inducing, Alec or Dean?

2006-06-13T15:18:46Z

Finally bought Dark Angel season 2, ah, sweet memories.

The first show where I saw Jensen Ackles. *drool*

I love Alec, even find him cuter than Dean, maybe it's the hair. He's so hot... *sigh dreamily* Alec and Dean have a lot of similarities in their behaviors. But I have to admit I prefer Alec. My reasons are totally superficial (and I'm so grinning right now):
- Alec is shirtless more than Dean.
- I have the pleasure to see his hot little bod doing really great cascades.
- Alec in glasses *faints*

Sorry Dean but you're so losing here. What's your opinion? Alec or Dean.

I smell little plotbunnies SPN/DA coming. ;p

Behind Bars, by Mackeygenius

2006-06-06T08:18:10Z

Title: Behind Bars
Author: Mackeygenius
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Pairing: McShep
Rating: PG-13, Nc-17 later
Word count: 2547
Summary: AU WIP, Rodney is sent to jail for a crime he didn't commit, will he manage to survive?
A/N: I want to thank silens_unus for the betaing and the hand holding. I had this plotbunny in my head since Christmas and finally achieved to write it down. Feedbacks make me happy.

Part 1

It was a nightmare, that was the only possible and rational explanation. He was going to wake up and realize none of this was real, just a weird and horrible hallucination created by his sleep deprived brain.

So he was going to wake up now.

Right. Now.

He pinched himself hard but nothing happened, no change in scenery, nothing.

Life was an unfair bitch, he'd known this since he was five and stuck in that dysfunctional shitty family of his. Still, couldn't it give him a break once in a while? He gulped heavily, staring at the guard who had just finished making a thorough physical search of him. It had been one of the most humiliating and unpleasant moments of his life, rivaling even the time when his mother caught him in his room with a braless Ingrid Bergman.

He rubbed his neck, the gray material he was wearing itching his skin, with his usual luck it was probably going to give him a rash. He could feel the blood starting to pulse furiously in his temples and knew a massive headache was soon to follow. His heart was in his throat as he stared at the line of empty cells to either side of him. He wanted to scream his frustration, yell, and hit something. Of course, he was aware it wouldn't resolve anything but dammit it would feel good. The last 48 hours were a blur, and he still couldn't believe what was happening to him. Couldn't believe that he, Rodney Zachary McKay, was in jail.

And the worst thing was he was an innocent man, it was all a mistake. He had been framed for something he hadn't even done. So here he was in Atlantis, a maximum security prison for God knew how long until Elizabeth could save him. A good thing his best friend was one of the best advocates on the bar.

"This is your cell." said the guard, indicating the open door.

Rodney entered, he could discern a bunk bed, a sink, a toilet, and two trunks placed against the wall. He arranged the necessities given to him by the prison's clerk earlier in the empty trunk, and then he put the sheets and the pillow on the lower and empty bed.

"Wake up at 6 o'clock, breakfast at 7 o'clock, you better not be late because there's only one service." warned the guard, "After you'll work where you are assigned until 12. Then you'll have 30 minutes to eat and you'll work again until 4 o'clock where you'll return to your cell. 5 o'clock is supper time, 30 minutes again. 6-7o'clock are specialized programs time such as religious services, narcotics anonyms, anger management, etc... 8 o'clock return to your cellblock, 9-10 o'clock remain in housing area and lights out at 11."

Rodney nodded, choosing to remain silent, not trusting his mouth since it tended to lead him into too much in trouble.

"Since the Warden isn't here today, you'll have your visit tomorrow. You've been assigned to library duty."

Library duty was good, books were good compared to working like slave under the glaring sun.

"Good." said the guard. "Since it's 11:58, you better get in the cafeteria. I'll show you the way."

The corridors they passed were empty, every inmates already on the way to lunch. Finally after a few minutes they arrived in front of huge double doors that were already open, Rodney could hear the rumbling of hundred of voices. The lump in his throat became bigger, and he could feel the sweat running down his spine, he was scared shitless. There was no way to deny it, millions of scenarios went through his head and it drove him into sheer panic. He would pass this door and meet a giant on steroids, 6'7 weighting approximately 280 pounds who would make him his 'bitch'. He couldn't forget there were over 300,000 instances of prison rape a year estimated, and the targets were often white males. Taking a deep breath, Rodney tried to recover his calm, for once he thanked his mother for passing him her ugly genes. He wasn't an attractive man, was 35, far too old to be a 'punk', wasn't a light weight so it reduced a lot of the risks of being raped. Still, that wasn't a reason for letting his guard down, he had to be cautious.

He jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder, he turned to see the guard staring at him with something akin to sadness on his face.

"Don't show your fear, they can smell it a mile away." he told him.

Rodney watched the guard, what was his name, Lorne, leave before stepping inside the cafeteria. The guard was right, in the end the only person who could help him was himself. He went into the food line, careful not to stare at anyone in the eyes, not wanting to pick a fight. He could throw vitriol with his tongue but seriously lacked strength in the whole fighting department. He picked the first thing he saw on his food tray, praying there wasn't any citrus in the plate. He could hear whispers in his back, the word 'fish' and other things but thankfully there were no catcalls or dirty proposals.

Food problem down now all that's left is the problem of a seat. Having done a little research before being incarcerated, that is to say surfing among the numerous sites talking about the lives and rapes of inmates in prison and watching all of the seasons of OZ, Rodney knew inmates were separated by their ethnic groups. Black with black, white with white, Puerto Ricans with Puerto Ricans, sadly Rodney doubted there were a lot of other Canadians in Atlantis.

He observed the tables, searching an empty seat, knowing he was going to appear as weak if he was sitting alone.

"McKay?"

The voice with a strong accent cut through his huge silent freak out. He turned in direction of the voice, his eyes falling on a somehow familiar face.

"Zelmki?" he asked, heading toward him, nearly wanting to hug the Czech for calling him in the first place.

"Zelenka." corrected the Czech.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked the Canadian, sitting at his right.

The smaller man seemed to be uncomfortable, beginning to be strangely interested by the unrecognizable brown vegetables on his plate.

"Few problems happened," he stated, pushing his fork in the brown mixture. And alright Rodney loved hospital food and MRES but honestly seeing the green liquid leave the brown mush was enough to make his stomach churn. "I needed money, a lot of money. I found it but got caught."

Rodney turned his gaze from the horrible mixture from hell, the words of Zelenka slowly slid in. His eyes widened as he turned toward the other scientist in shock. "What?" he sputtered, not believing his ears. "Don't tell me you hacked into..."

"I won't tell you then."

Zelenka introduced him to Peter Grodin who seemed an easy going fellow. During the other minutes which followed, they respectively tried to eat what was on their tray, Rodney having to swallow instead of chewing the foreign food. Rodney subtly watched the other inmates, surprised when he spotted one table where were black and white people sitting together in what seems to be easiness. His eyes fell on one man in particular.

"Rumors say he killed 60 guys once." said Zelenka, following his gaze as he ate his chocolate muffin. The only decent thing in their lunch. "He’s a tough guy, you don’t want to mess with him."

"Really?" asked Rodney, observing the other man out of the corner of his eyes. Honestly the man didn't seem very dangerous, sure he was muscular but he wasn't Schwarzenegger either. The goofy grin he was sporting certainly made him lose credit in the scary business. The hair alone was enough to make him seem harmless, what kind of serial killer had hair like that? Rodney was more concerned by the hairy man beast wolfing down his food next to Crazy Hair.

"Yeah", replied Zelenka, "don’t let his easy demeanor fool you. He’s okay as long as you don’t question his authority. That's his click."

Zelenka gave him a rapid summary on the inmates at the other table. Crazy Hair's real name was John Sheppard, the yeti was Ronon Dex, cellmate of Grodin, a man of few words, rumors said he'd been on the run for 7 years before they finally caught him, the reasons behind his conviction remained unclear, Halling, a non violent inmate, a priest and Aiden Ford, a young athletic black man, Zelenka's cellmate. That one was trouble, you didn't want to mess with him, even though the young man was very attractive, everybody knew he was no punk, when he arrived in Atlantis he sent a large amount of older inmates who had tried to harass him sexually to the prison hospital. He was here for possession of Wraith drug and attempted murder, his temper was volatile but Sheppard kept him in check.

Rodney asked Zelenka to explain him where the library was, thanking a God in which he didn't believe in when the smaller man told him he was also on library duty. During the rest of the lunch period, Zelenka gave him few tips on how to act among the other inmates, which guards were bastards and how to avoid them easily. The two men headed toward the library in silence, so far, the day seemed to turn out ok. The Canadian was so deep in his thoughts that when they took a turn/corner, he didn't watch if anyone was in front of him and collided into another inmate.

"Watch it, Fish." stated a deep male voice.

Rodney could hear the disdain and the air of superiority in the tone. Standing up, he glared at the other man, if there was one thing Rodney did'nt tolerate, it was being dismissed by someone who clearly was dumber than him. And the idiot in front of him seemed to be the case, the guy was slightly stockier than him but not by much, the conceding smirk spread across his face made the Canadian furious.

"The name is McKay and I'm not the only one at fault, it goes both ways you fucking jerk." he spat out, oblivious to the dark eyes which became sharper.

"Rodney, we're going to be late for our duty." intervened Zelenka, grabbing his friend's arm and heading toward the library.

They left the other inmate who kept staring at the retreating Canadian, rubbing his chin pensively.

"McKay, I'll remember you." he murmured as he headed in the other aisle of the prison.

At the second where the other inmate was out of sight, Zelenka grabbed Rodney's arm and though the Canadian didn't understand Czech, something told him the smaller man was swearing at him.

"What?" he asked, exasperated. "It's you who pressed me to hurry up, why are we stopping now?"

"Ah, Rodney, you stupid idiot!" snarled Zelenka, passing a hand in his unruly hair. "Have you any idea to who you were talking to? I swear, your first day isn't even over you've already managed to make yourself noticed by one of the 'pitchers'."

"The 'pitchers'? Pardon me but I've not updated my prison's slang yet." stated sarcastically McKay.

"Right, forgot." replied the Czech, "Pitchers in prison are also known as jokers, studs, wolves, predators. These inmates will sniff out new victims and will almost attack in groups. They consider themselves as men since they have never been sexually penetrated or raped. Congratulations Rodney, you caught the attention of one of the worst guy in Atlantis. Kolya is one sick bastard, you better stay out of his way."

"Fuck." dropped Rodney, realizing the consequences his outburst might cause him.

"If you're lucky, maybe he'll forget it." observed Zelenka, "But please, I beg you, keep a low profile during the next few days."

The Canadian nodded and the two entered in the library.

The work there wasn't very hard, just putting the borrowed books back on their shelves. The rest of the day passed with Rodney checking piles of books, noting the ones where inmates had scribbled lewd drawings. It was indeed very instructive, the Canadian learned new positions of the Kama Sutra he had never know. It was a 180 from three-dimensional equations that was for sure.

At four o'clock, they finished and went back to their cell. Rodney was wary to discover who was with him, he sat on his bed, digging a book out of his trunk. Relic from Douglas Preston and Lincold Child was one of his favorite books but sadly the Canadian couldn't manage to focus on it. Finally the hour passed with no sigh of his cellmate and Rodney found himself slightly relieved. Maybe the guy was sick and would stay away until Rodney's hearing... Right and pigs would fly.

Rodney headed toward the cafeteria, spotting Zelenka and Grodin right away. Zelenka asked if he saw his cellmate and Rodney shook his head. The Canadian asked what they were doing after supper and Grodin told him they were going to the religious service that Halling performed. Rodney, being atheist, didn't really see the interest of going but he was even more reluctant to go back to his empty cell where God only knew what could happen to him.

He had no urge meeting his cellmate, the later he would, the best he would feel. He also worried Kolya might want to visit him if he found him alone. So for one hour the Canadian had to bear a long monologue Halling about religion. And even if Rodney didn't believe in such shit, he had to admit the taller guy had a way with words which made people want to listen to him.

When eight o'clock came, Rodney thought everyone could hear his heart hammering furiously in his chest. He said goodbye to Radek and Peter and headed toward his cell. He had just finished to relieving and cleaning himself when he heard footsteps approaching and stopping in front of the cell. With dread Rodney turned and paled as he stared at his cellmate.

Fantastic, he was bunked with a heartless cold blooded psychopath. With his luck the way it was it really should have come as no surprise that his cellmate was John Sheppard.

Needless to say that night Rodney didn't sleep a wink, too afraid that the second he closed his eyes, Sheppard would murder him. He could already see his death, suffocated with a pillow, or gutted with a toothbrush turned into a knife. Yeah, the last one didn't seem to be possible but sadly it was true, and Rodney cursed himself for watching the jail episode of CSI.

Rodney tensed when the bed frame over him creaked, holding his breath, he listened the regular steady breath coming from his cellmate. For all he knew, the other man could just be faking to be asleep, waiting for him to let his guard down. Letting out a heavy sigh, Rodney wrapped the thin sheet tighter around his body, something told him it was going to be a long night.

TBC

The information on the inmate's schedule are true, found on http://www.doc.state.nc.us/dop/HOURS24.htm. The statistics are also sadly true.

The fishes: New inmates who've never been into the prison system before.
The punks: Also called fuck boys. These inmates are the younger, weaker, normally white inmates who have been “turned out” by the stronger inmates. They are normally assaulted within days of arrival and these attacks will keep up until they either get protection, are locked up in protective custody, or turn queen (guys who act like women) themselves. Punks are down on the same prison level as child molesters. Often they are sold to other gangs. They have an extremely high suicide rate.

Dean's Dirty Little Secret or The Cool Boxers Of A Demon Hunter, by Mackeygenius

2006-05-27T08:59:57Z

Title: Dean's Dirty Little Secret or The Cool Boxers Of A Demon Hunter
Author: Mackeygenius
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1453
Warning: Slash, Incest. Crack!fic
Summary: Title said it all.
A/N: Big hug and thanks to mf_luder_xf for the betaing, you have to blame cloex_brosluvr for this crack. She totally asked for it.

Wichita, Kansas
Comfort Inn East, Room 13, 1:07 AM

The door of room thirteen was suddenly open and two men in their twenties entered. The taller one supported the other who was muttering curses under his breath.

"Argh, would you stop squirming around already?" admonished the taller one.

"Dude, not my fault," snapped the shorter one. "That harpy, what a bitch! Of course, she had to claw me."

The dark-haired guy snorted. "Yeah, right," he shot back. "You getting hurt had nothing to do with the fact that, before the harpy changed to her true form, you were shamelessly hitting on her. And poorly, I must add. Of course," Sam said sarcastically, "it's her who was the irrational one for hitting you when she saw how much you were repulsed by the real her. Especially when you'd just been feeding her lines about 'loving the interior beauty of people more than their looks'."

"I was just trying to make conversation. Being friendly. It's called talking. I know that's a foreign concept to you, Sam. You move your lips and your tongue and there are sounds that come out of your mouth. Those sounds will form words that you will exchange with other people to communicate," explained the dark blond-haired guy, speaking slowly as though he were talking to a young child. "Not all of us are Mr-One-Word-A-Day and...Ow! Dammit, Sammy, watch the leg!"

"For the 5,638,479th time, it's Sam!" hissed Sam as he put his brother on one of the beds and went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

"Man, tell me you're not really counting," Dean's voice followed him.

Sam sighed, returning, and glanced at his brother's wounds. Besides a few grazes on his face, Dean seemed okay. His worst injury was the large, deep gash on his right thigh. Blood was still oozing from the cut, turning his faded blue jeans red; Dean's favorite pants were ruined. It would teach him a lesson not to flirt with everything that wore a skirt---never knew what it could be, thought Sam. He knelt by his brother, taking the alcohol and bandages out of the emergency box. Sam glanced up when he saw Dean still hadn't make any move to undo his pants.

"C'mon, Dean, those won't open by themselves. Take 'em off, I need to look at your thigh," said Sam as he unlaced and slid Dean's boots off.

"No, Sam, it's ok, I can do it myself just fine," replied Dean, jaw twitching.

"I can wrap it better and faster than you could," countered Sam, shaking his head. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't already seen."

He hoped his statement would made Dean relax and cooperate, but it did no such thing. What was wrong now? Sometimes Sam really couldn't figure Dean out.

Since his older brother didn't seem in mood to be helpful, Sam began to unbutton Dean's pants, only to have his hands batted away.

"I said I could do it myself," snapped Dean.

"And I say, grow up," stated Sam as he pushed Dean back until his brother hit the bed. Taking advantage of the fact Dean was lying down, Sam finished popping the buttons of his jeans open and took the fabric in his hands, pulling them off his brother. "You big baby," Sam said with a grin, watching Dean's struggles to stop him with amusement.

However, when the pants were finally off, a deep silence filled the room. Sam was standing up beside the bed, agape, bloodied jeans still in his hands. His eyes were fixed on his brother's boxers and Dean--who was always cool and imperturbable--was as red as a tomato.

"Stop staring, Sam, it's rude!" shouted Dean, annoyed.

If Sam hadn't been so captivated by the design on Dean's boxers, he would have pointed out that Dean didn't give a fuck about etiquette. Sam could feel his shoulders begin to shake and a grin stretch itself across his face. Oh yeah, definately blackmail material.

"Dude, I'm not dreaming, right?" asked Sam, snickering. "Oh my God, you're wearing Pokemon boxers."

Then the laughter he had bubbling in his chest spilled out and he couldn't help himself, he was laughing so hard his sides hurt. Dean, the portrait of coolness, the big hunter kicking the ass of monsters was wearing Pokemon boxers, Pikachu, the little cute yellow anime pet. Talk about the collapse of Dean's cool facade. He could see Dean sulking, glaring at him as he bandaged his wounded thigh himself.

"OK, enough, Sammy, or no sex for a week," threatened Dean.

"You'll give in before me," shot back Sam with a grin, drying the tears of laughter on his face.

Sam observed his brother fuming as he was trying to disinfect and bandage the cut, he could nearly heard Dean swear at him in his head. Still wheezing for breath, his eyes drifted back at the blue boxers stamped with smiling pikachus.

"No need to make a big deal about it," countered Dean, "that was my last clean pair."

Sam snorted at the lame excuse. "Yeah, right. I believe you. Dean Winchester, the guy who goes commando three times a week."

"Well, it's getting old." growled Dean as he wrapped the bandage around his thigh.

"C'mon Dean, if you were in my place, you know you'd do worse," replied the younger Winchester. "In fact..."

His eyes widened and he grabbed his jacket, searching frantically in his pocket. "Ah ha!" he shouted in victory, smirking mischeviously, "It's time for the revenge of the spoon!"

Dean, who had just finished his bandage, glanced at Sam, paling as he saw the little object his brother was holding triumphantly. Sam was watching his brother attentively, loving every minute of his freak out. That's right, Dean. Cellphone. Camera cellphone. You're so screwed, dear brother of mine. And really, Sam shouldn't take so much pleasure at seeing Dean's eyes as wide as saucers but truth was, he so was enjoying it.

"Sammy, you don't want to do this," warned Dean, eying the distance between Sam and him.

"You bet I do, I didn't forget you sent the picture to Becky. She showed it at the rest of my friends! Time to turn the tables, I'm sure Cassie will love this one," assured Sam, his green eyes twinkling with mirth and mischievousness.

Dean never realized that their father's training would be most helpful, not for fighting demons, but in the event that his brother decided to embarrass him. Before Sam could take his picture, Dean had grabbed him by the hem of his shirt, causing him to fall onto the bed. They wrestled over the cellphone.

"Give it to me, Sammy!" yelled Dean, his hand raised toward the cellphone.

"No...way...in...Hell!" gasped Sam, laughing.

Minutes passed before Dean managed to pin Sam down, straddling him with his hips. Both men were breathing roughly. Dean stared into his brother's eyes, and noticing the pupils dilated with lust, he grinded his hips, eliciting a moan from Sam. Dean smiled. If these boxers made Sammy react like that, he sure as hell was going to wear them more often. Leaning down, he captured his brother's mouth with his, letting his tongue lick Sam's soft, luscious lips. He tasted like mint and frappucino and...and he was laughing. Dean towered over Sam, shooting daggers at his brother for laughing hysterically.

"Sorr...sorry, it's just..." apologized Sam, still snickering as he tried to calm down. "I'll be good, promise. No more laughing."

Dean, satisfied with the promise, resumed his earlier activities, careful not to use his wounded thigh too much. Soon, the lazy kisses turned frenzied, clothes and Pikachu boxers were discarded on the floor. Mouths met each other, hands grabbed and pulled at muscles, marring honey skin with purple bruises. The need to touch was overwhelming and nothing existed in the world besides them. No sound of laughter could be heard in the room, only moans, curses and dirty little nothings whispered by rough voices breaking with arousal.

"Hey, Dean..." whispered Sam, a few hours later.

"So much for afterglow," commented Dean, groaning, but glancing up at his brother as Sam's long fingers drew patterns over his naked chest.

"I was thinking..." began Sam, "Your birthday is in one month, right?"

Dean had to admit he was pleasantly surprised at the thought Sam remembered and wanted to give him a gift. They had stopped giving presents to each other since years after their father told them they needed to keep the money for priority things.

"What do you say I buy you Hello Kitty boxers?"

It took few seconds to Dean to register what Sam had just say.

"That's it, Sammy, I'm so gonna kick your ass!"

END

Chocolate, by Mackeygenius

2006-05-19T18:04:58Z

Title: Chocolate
Author: Mackeygenius
Rating: R
Word count: 377
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Prompt used: body paint
Warning: slash, incest
Summary: And maybe it's not exactly what his father had in mind, Dean thinks, as he draws the brush coated with chocolate body paint across Sammy's chest but Dean wouldn't have it any other way.
A/N: Tried to write something hot but not really sure with the result. The end may be kind of anti-climatic. *sweatdrop* non-betaed so don't beat me to death for the mistakes, please.

As far as he can remember he always liked candies.

With chocolate it was love at first sight. He loved how it slowly melt on his palate, sweet, warm and tender. When he was young, his Mum used to tease him about it, saying he'll become a confectioner to only eat his sweets. He remembers when Sammy was born, how he tried to slip him discreetly candies because he wanted to show his little brother how good and perfect they were. He remembers his father's carefree laughter, explaining little Sammy was still too young but assuring that when he'll be old enough, Dean would be the first to initiate him to the pleasures of chocolate. Because that's what big brothers do, they show and teach the things they know to their younger siblings.

Yeah, it's fair to say Dean Winchester always had a sweet tooth.

Decades passed and the craving for the dark gold is still there, he hasn't forget his brother's duty. That's why when he sees the jar in the shop-window, he has to buy it. And maybe it's not exactly what his father had in mind, Dean thinks, as he draws the brush coated with chocolate body paint across Sammy's chest but Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

He leans down, sucking the now brown nipples with his warm lips, enjoying the low moans coming from his brother's mouth. The taste of the chocolate hitting his tongue is incredible, because it's sweet and sour and salty when it's mixed with Sam's sweat and skin. Dean never tasted such flavor before, it makes his mouth water and his toes curl. He can't get enough, he's addicted.

Once more he congratulates himself for buying edible body paint, believing it might the best idea of his life. His hungry gaze falls over his brother stretched under him, calculating all the surface he'll be able to cover, for once grateful Sammy is such a giant. Green eyes meet their alter ego and feelings are conveyed without words. A soft brush there and pouty lips are coated with rich brown liquid. Mouths fuse, tongues play, licking, suckling, nibbling, devouring each other until nothing remains. Muffled curses and panted breaths follow.

"Jesus, initiate me to anything you want, Dean."

END

crossposted on http://community.livejournal.com/spn_prompts/

I Hate Soccer Supporters !!!!

2006-05-17T18:22:37Z

I hate soccer supporters!

Tonight (9:OOAP) in Paris is the soccer final (which one, I don't know): Arsenal (UK) vs Barcelona (Spain). All day I've seen screaming supporters, even near my College (even though the stadium isn't here!), blocking the streets with their supporters ads and all.

But the worse was at the end of the day. I have to take the subway (20 minutes) to go to my classes. So after leaving College at 7:00PM, tired, starving, with my feet killing me, I had to pass 20 MINUTES stuck (imagine me plastered against a window) in a waggon with smelly guys screaming at the top of their lungs stupid songs I didn't even understand. The game hadn't even started they were already drunk!

Really I had a very strong urge to strangle them, I would have made them eat their damned red and blue curtains! That wasn't nice, not at all, specially when you have a strong headache. I swear I had violent pulsions against them.

The icing on the cake was the old (not very old but compared to me she was) lady stepping on my foot with a demonic shoe! (the bloody thing nearly went through my foot!)

In conclusion, a good crappy day.

Casual Touch, by Mackeygenius

2006-05-13T11:11:42Z

Title: Casual Touch
Author: Mackeygenius
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural (which is very sad).
Rating: Nc-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Sam's nightmares get worse but Dean finds a way to make them go away.
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for Nightmares and Something Wicked.
Note: This is a Supernatural Slash Fiction Angstathon Entry. For the ficathon, I wrote for twitchy_kris, who wanted a H/C fic (first time or non-con) with a lot of foreplay and a little jealousy on Dean's part. I really hope you'll like it.
Author's Note: A big thanks to jellicle for her useful comments and mf_luder_xf for the betaing and her amazing patience, without you I couldn't have done it. *hugs*
I know I already used this plot but I promise it's different from my other fic.
Word count: 2850
Feedbacks: Addicted to them. XD

He'd like to say it happened in the heat of the moment, that it couldn't have been stopped. He'd like to give an excuse such as adrenaline or escape from near death experience to deny any responsibility. But it would be a lie. Truth is, Dean gave him plenty opportunities to say 'no'.

Sam remembers exactly when it began.

Topeka, Kansas.

They had been low on cash and had to stay in a low class motel, the kind of place where you couldn't help but wonder what the stains on the ten year-old covers were. And for your own sanity, you'd better not to think too much about it. It was two am, Dean was lightly snoring on the other bed, sleeping the sleep of the righteous. Sam couldn't, though, because every time he closed his eyes, darkness consumed him, gliding over his frozen skin like fire. He felt as if he lost a part of himself; the nightmares scarred him even more than real wounds did. He saw the faces of strangers: screaming, begging, dying. Heard them crying, nearly mad with fear, blood pouring over their faces and watched as they were brutally murdered before his helpless eyes. It was not something he could discuss with Dean, didn't picture himself at breakfast, saying 'Dean, by the way, last night I saw a poltergeist rape and murder a teenage girl who could have been Cassie's twin'. Dean didn't have to know, shouldn't have to share his burden. Besides, his brother worried enough about him already, especially after the Max fiasco and the nightmares turning into visions. Weeks after the encounter with the Millers, Dean was still monitoring him, like 'here Sammy, eat your fucking fries or I swear to God I'll shove them down your throat', 'Dude, you okay?' and Sam's favorite 'You gonna hurl? Tell me because upholstery, you know'. It had taken threats of bodily harm to have Dean back off, at least a little.

So Sam was prepared for another exhausting and sleepless night, life was a bitch as Dean said, and the icing on the cake was the cheap heater deciding to die. The temperature of the motel's room fell below 40 deg F, within minutes Sam's teeth were chattering and he grabbed the thin blanket tighter against his body. He was currently freezing his ass off and could his night get any worse?

A ruffle of sheets attracted his attention, he tensed before he discerned a familiar form moving in the darkness of the room. A few seconds later, Dean was entering in his bed, bitching against the heater under his breath.

"Scoot over," said Dean in a scruffy voice, rough from sleep and Sam obeyed, turning his back to Dean. "Shit Sammy, you're worse than the guy in Titanic," stated Dean, wrapping his arm around his brother's waist.

Sam relaxed instantly at the familiar heat in his back, remembering all the times they used to sleep like this when they were younger. Dean's chest pressed against his back, warm breath tickling his ear. Sam evened his breathing, trying to give the impression he was going to sleep when in fact his eyes were wide open, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. He tensed when the arm around his waist tightened, despite the fact he should have know Dean wouldn't be so easily fooled.

"Relax, Sammy," murmured Dean in his ear. "Nothing is gonna happen to you while I'm here."

The promise made Sam feel better, even though Dean had no way to assure him that. They laid against each other in a comfortable silence, just sharing body heat. His brother's next move was totally unexpected, however. Usually Dean wasn't the touchy-feely type, in fact, he tended to avoid everything coming close to a chick flick moment. Yet, here he was, gently stroking Sam's hair. The sensation of strong fingers massaging his scalp slowly felt nice, lulling Sam into slumber. It was the first time since Jess' funeral that he didn't wake up from a nightmare.

After that night, it becomes a ritual. Now, when they reach a motel, Dean, even though he still orders two queens, slides into his bed at night. At any point, Sam should have stopped it, encouraged Dean to go back to his own bed, because they're really too old to sleep like this. It feels different than the times where they were kids; Sam isn't as oblivious as anyone seems to believe, he can recognize the signs which prove someone is hitting on him. And that's what Dean is trying to do. He's sure his brother wants to help but Dean doesn't have to get so close. Yet Sam can't help but feel strangely touched by the attention, it's an universal fact Dean sucks in the 'talking and sharing feelings' department, but he excels at sex: physical comfort. It's through his actions and not his words Dean shows he cares so Sam lets it pass and allows the physical contact, believing it won't even last a week. However, every night, Dean plasters himself against Sam, filling his nostrils with a scent purely Dean: a mix of sweat, musk and fresh cut grass. He buries his head in the crook of Sam's neck, his hand slowly rubbing Sam's t-shirt covered stomach. At first glance, the gesture seems to be innocent, only made to give a calming effect. But the touch makes Sam's blood boil. And Sam is ready to bet Dean is aware of the consequences his actions have on him. Trust Dean to turn casual touches into something obscene.

And every time, their twisted game of the cat and the mouse goes further. He ignores what he did to make Dean want him, which signal he gave to his brother to make him think this something he can't even name, is alright. Because it's not, all his life Sam longed for normal, had never wanted to hunt demons or know Anasazi protection symbols before his alphabet, hated being able to shoot a gun at nine. The only normal thing he has is his brother. His relationship with Dean is the only thing in their family which isn't fucked up and Sam isn't sure he's ready to lose that small comfort. So at first, Sam tries to believe he's just imagining things. After all, Sam hasn't slept with anyone since Jess' death, maybe it's just Dean's proximity messing with his mind. Still, he can't deny the fact each night Dean grows bolder, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt before skirting underneath and Sam has to bite his lips to keep the groan from leaving his mouth. Dean's calloused fingers tracing runes over his stomach sends shivers running down Sam's spine and it takes all his strength not to arch into the touch. Dean's dry lips pressed against his nape are scorching his skin, branding him and Sam has to close his eyes, willing himself to stay still under his brother's ministrations. Because as much as this situation freaks him out, part of him wants to know what Dean is going to do next.

He doesn't count how many nights pass, doesn't count how many nights he could have stopped Dean, the only thing he's aware of is there are no more nightmares. No more screaming strangers, faces twisted in pain; instead, every night he sleeps like a baby. Dean is the key to his sanity and Sam should have know his brother would make everything better, he hasn't been Sam's protector since his birth for nothing. Dean is the only one who prevents him from getting lost into the horror, the gore he witnesses in his head. Sam's grateful to have him. Soon, being spooned in Dean's embrace just becomes a habit, the freakiness of the situation erased, replaced by a simple sense of familiarity.

When Dean's hand slides into his boxers, Sam's only thought isn't 'oh God, it's wrong. We're brothers.' but 'finally'. Just relieved that after so many nights spent frustratingly and painfully hard, Dean's decided to take their game to the next level. The blood is pumping rapidly in his temples and he can feel the warm puff of Dean's breath by his ear, his calloused digits stroking his leaking cock. Dean is grinding against his back, pushing his hard on against Sam's covered ass and it thrills the younger Winchester to feel how much Dean wants him. Sam knows he should put a stop to it, but he's tired of always being the responsible one.

Besides, he needs it, needs Dean more than oxygen, needs Dean to ground him into the present, away from the demons and darkness who want to devour him until nothing remains. Dean is the only one who can make the pain go away.

The only noise in the room is the sound of the sheets shifting under their moving hips, and if Sam lets out purring noises, he isn't going to admit it. He arches his neck, body taut as a bow, as Dean mouths kisses on his spine, his teeth grasping against Sam's neck. And Sam whines, urging Dean to move faster.

"Anticipation is like a good scotch, Sammy, you have to savor it," murmurs Dean in his ear.

"Says the guy who drinks Corona," shoots back Sam, laughing quietly.

He gasps as Dean playfully bites his earlobe, punishing Sam for his comment as he accelerates his pace. If Sam's brain wasn't short circuiting he'd certainly be ashamed for having come so rapidly, but he can't bring himself to care. His boxers are damp and sticky again his skin so when Dean tears them off him, his t-shirt next to go along with Dean's clothes, he doesn't protest. Sam waits for the guilt to arrive; he waits until Dean nuzzles his neck, telling him to go to sleep already. As their limbs are tangled in an unrecognizable mess, Sam thinks he should feel awkward at the idea of sleeping in the buff with Dean, but he isn't.

He surrenders to Dean, admitting defeat, though he's aware he had never really wanted or tried to fight him in first place.

The dynamic changes after that, the game continues during days, too. They arrive at a dinner in Dumbnameville and Sam notices Dean acting differently. Oh, he still flirts as often as he breathes, the thing is the new possessiveness his brother expresses toward him. The cute redhead who's been checking Sam out since they've gotten here could be taken for a Shtriga with the murderous glares Dean's sending her way. He's going to point out his brother is overreacting when the redhead heads toward the table, unconscious of the danger in which she is. Sam turns toward Dean to tell him to behave but his brother, earlier pissed off, is now smiling sweetly and Sam has the feeling he's not going to like what's going to happen. The waitress stops, taking a notepad out of her pocket, her luscious lips stretched into a blinding grin. She soon loses it, though, when her blue eyes catch a movement under the table. Dean is stroking Sam's thigh with his hand, deliberately slow, smirking cockily at the redhead as Sam, his neck flushing, gives their orders with a strained smile.

That night, Dean feasts on his throat, leaving a purple mark for anyone to see.

Weeks pass and Sam stops worrying about what's happening between Dean and him, only enjoying what is being offered. They always sleep naked now, and Sam is never cold because Dean's body is like a furnace, warming him even more than Jessica used to.

Sam longs for the nights to come, the anticipation is killing him because he wants more, he wants to touch Dean, too, but he's afraid of taking the lead, afraid of going too far. For the moment, the only thing they've done are hand jobs given by Dean. Always back-to-chest, Sam has a hard time reciprocating, besides, Dean always brings himself off by grinding himself against his back.

But one night he can't help it, grabbing Dean's hand on his cock with his and breaks their usual silence oath, urgently whispering his brother's name and something which sounds a lot like the word 'please'. And it seems that was what Dean was waiting for because Dean kisses his sweating temple, promising Sam he'll make him feel so good Sam is never going to want anyone else but Dean. Instead of tearing down his brother's cocky attitude, Sam just whimpers at Dean's assurance because if there is something Dean doesn't do, it's break his promises. Anticipation is really killing Sam and he groans as Dean's hand run over his chest, playing with Sam's infuriating sensitive nipples. It shouldn't feel so good, because it's his brother touching him. However, the knowledge that it's Dean touching him, makes his cock twitch. Sam moans, unable to contain his excitement. The hard leaking cock slipping between his ass cheeks creates a wonderful friction which brings keening noises out of his mouth.

"More, please. More, Dean, I need more."

Through the haze of lust and despair, Sam has a hard time recognizing the plaintive and rough voice as his own. He feels Dean smile against his neck and suddenly, coated fingers are replacing the cock against his backside. Sam's eyes widen as one finger enters him; it's cold and he finds himself squirming away at the sensation, but he stops when the finger hits a spot which makes him see stars. Soon, the single finger is joined by a second and a third and it feels so good Sam wonders why he never tried it before. He has his answer one second later when he hears Dean whisper breathlessly his name, strangely Sammy in this context doesn't bother him. On the contrary, in the usually annoying nickname, he hears the concern, the urgent need, the love his brother has for him and never expresses with words. And Sam knows he never could have done this with someone else, because there is no one in the world he trusts more than Dean.

His heart is hammering furiously in his chest and Sam gasps as Dean is finally inside. He feels full, warm, protected; Dean's hands are gripping his hips, a little too tight and Sam is glad for that because there will be bruises tomorrow, proving it wasn't a dream. The pleasure is building inside of him as Dean moves faster. The silence of earlier is definitely broken, replaced by curses, moans and prayers. Dean is dropping feverish kisses against his nape, whispering dirty things in his ear. Sam has never been so hard in his life, he cries out as Dean's hand covers his cock, it feels so good that Sam believes that's why it's illegal. Screw incest, he doesn't care, the important thing is what's happening in this bed. He'd like to say it happened in the heat of the moment, that it couldn't have been stopped. He'd like to give an excuse such as adrenaline or escape from near death experience to deny any responsibility. But it would be a lie. Truth is, Dean gave him plenty opportunities to say 'no' and Sam simply didn't want to.

They come at the same time and Sam shouts as Dean bites viciously at his shoulder. Sam yelps in surprise at the sudden unexpected burst of pleasure coursing through his body and nearly falls off the bed. It hurts, but the pain is good. The realization confuses Sam but makes his brother laugh.

They're so wiped out, they don't even clean themselves before falling asleep.

When Sam wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees are relaxed green eyes staring back at him. This is where he should say it was wrong and a bad idea, this is when he should say they have to forget this. However, it has been a long time since Sam felt peaceful, and a long time since he saw Dean happy. So he decides to listen to his heart for once and not his brain, and grins at his brother.

There are no fireworks when their lips finally meet, no trumpets, no fanfare; it's just them. It's perfect, thinks Sam. Not rushed, not embarrassed, not too sweet, but completely right. Dean's tongue is slowly playing with his, licking, sucking, nibbling at his lips and Sam moans into the kiss. His heart is threatening to burst but he doesn't want to tell Dean because he's sure his brother will call him a girl. He ignores how long they keep kissing, the only thing he's aware of is when they stop: for the first time in months Sam doesn't smell ashes when he breathes.

Now that he thinks about it, Sam has to admit it's pretty weird that they had sex with each other before even sharing their first kiss. He says that to his brother one night which makes Dean prop himself up on his elbow and look at Sam with an amused grin.

"Dude, since when are we doing normal?"

END

Babble: Terrible day

2006-05-12T17:09:30Z

Today sucked so much I thought I will share it. I don't expect replies though, because I don't think what I'm going to say is really interesting.

See, today I have no class and I can do anything I want (shopping, working on my German paper *snort*, sleeping, etc..). Only problem my Whirlpool died horribly (it suffered a lot, may it rest in peace). You may not know it but it recreated the Great Flood in my kitchen (I so wasn't a happy camper).

Anyway bought a new one and the guy should have delivered it this morning.

So I waited and waited and waited again... It's currently 6:5OPM, I'm very angry and frustrated because I wasted a whole day waiting for the delivery which never came. Honestly if I could put my hands on the guy, I assure you it wouldn't be pretty.

Honestly this kind of things happened to you? Because I swear to God... argh! I'm so mad, I was supposed to see Silent Hill with a friend this afternoon and was forced to cancell. *sobs* I HATE delivery men!

Hmm... Currently staring at my computer screen, watching my xover SPN/Forsaken laugh at me. It's 2/3 done and I can't seem to be able to finish it. It makes three weeks it's in this state. *sigh*
Besides I'm hungry and when I open my fridge I can hear my voice echoing since it's nearly empty.

Only good thing, tomorrow is the deadline for the Wincest Angstaton. Yeah, that's the first ficathon I've done, can't wait to see the other stories.