i'm out of it for a little while, and everybody gets delusions of grandeur

Icon meme

2009-01-10T00:54:50Z

Stolen from rhienelleth...

MAH ICONS.

default	oldest	newest


saddest	happiest	angriest


cutest	sexiest	funniest


fave ship	fave fandom	fave animated


best quote	best textless	best stolen idea


use the most	favorite

HOW MANY ICONS DO YOU HAVE: 87
OUT OF HOW MANY AVAILABLE ICONS SPACES: 124
IF YOU COULD BUY SPACE FOR MORE, WOULD YOU: I'm not even using all the space I have, so no...
DO YOUR ICONS MAKE A STATEMENT: Other than "these are things I like"? Not especially.
WHAT FANDOM DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: Veronica Mars
AND THE SECOND MOST: Grey's Anatomy
WHAT SHIP DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: Rory/Logan and Veronica/Weevil...with a whopping 2 each
ARE YOUR ICONS MADE MOSTLY BY OTHER PEOPLE: No
DO YOU MAKE ICONS: Yes
ARE THEY ANY GOOD: They're...adequate
ANIMATED ICONS ARE: Time consuming

DO THE MEME.
Coding can be found here

Shut up, McGee

2009-01-08T00:14:32Z

Clearly I need to continue to remind myself that reading the TWoP boards is an exercise in futility. Seriously, every time I venture there, I start to think I must be from another planet.

Case in point: the NCIS thread. Apparently, I am the only person in the world who doesn't think that McGee is the most awesome part of the show. I watch the show primarily for Gibbs and Abby, to a lesser degree for Tony, Ziva, and Ducky, and I resign myself to the fact that McGee is there. I don't find him funny, or charming, or attractive, or even interesting. It's not that I don't like geeks--I find the boys of The Big Bang Theory endlessly entertaining--and I'm pretty sure it's not that I'm so shallow as to dislike him because he's not as conventionally attractive as Gibbs or Tony. He just bores me. And frankly, you will never, ever convince me that Sean Murray got the role for any reason other than the fact he is Donald Bellisario's stepson.

But according to the posters at TWoP, Gibbs is a borderline abusive blowhard, Tony is an immature asshole of the lowest order (10 points if you can name that reference), Ziva spends all her time mooning over Tony, and Abby is an over-the-top annoying pain in the ass. Um, okay. I think I'll stay over here in my corner thinking none of those things. *sigh*

Needless to say, last night's episode was not one of my favorites. Mostly I found it boring, and I would have much rather gotten to find out more about Celia than spend time shoring up McGee's ego. Her willingness to cover for the other inmate, as well as confess to murdering the original skeletal victim, seemed to hint at a deeper story. But we couldn't hear that story, because we had to listen to stupid McGee on the phone with the effing auto shop. God, why couldn't they just shiv him?

Putting the 'Pleasures' in Guilty Pleasures

2009-01-06T02:11:32Z

Gossip Girl is back tonight, and I'm still loving it.

The Good
1. Nelly Yuki. In general, but also because she pretty much played Little J. Also, something about her mannerisms reminds me of if Lane Kim was raised on the UES.
2. The Colony Club ladies calling out Serena's abundance of boobage. *snerk*
3. DOROTA. Always.

The Bad
1. The complete and utter lack of Nate. Shouldn't he be there for the downward spiral (and, um, the eye candy)?
2. Anything involving Serena. Bleah. What a waste of space. And hey, show, thanks for the waste of time that was her entire relationship with Aaron. Whatevs.

The Bass
1. Ed Westwick nailed it tonight. The over the top histrionics of the funeral were gone, replaced by dead eyes and a lot of drugs. Heartbreaking.
2. Chuck and Dan totally need to hang out more.
3. Chuck and Eric still break my heart.
4. Yes, the scene on the roof was totally overwrought, but Ed and Leighton SOLD IT, and I loved it eighty gobzillion times more than the "I love you" at the limo.
5. Why, hello there, Dirty Hot Bad Wrong Uncle Jack. Why yes, I was totally thinking that it would be oodles of fun if you and Blair hooked up in some sort of freaky deaky Substitute!Bass!Sex, but good on you, show, for having it ALREADY HAPPEN. Awesome.

Also, I totally have a sinus infection, so the fic challenge is on hold.

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Eight Hollow Point Bullet Slugs" (Charlie Crews/Veronica Mars) PG-13

2009-01-04T05:06:55Z

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Eight Hollow Point Bullet Slugs
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Charlie Crew/Veronica Mars
Spoilers: Miscellaneous spoilers for season 1 of Veronica Mars. General series spoilers for Life.
Summary: Sometimes being an FBI agent in LA means working with the LAPD.
Disclaimer: Life and Veronica Mars were created by Rand Ravich and Rob Thomas, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala.

The blood was overwhelming. Dani had been to plenty of crime scenes in her day, had seen the worst that humanity had to offer. But this...this was stomach-turning. She glanced over at her partner, wondering if he would react, or if the much-vaunted Zen would carry him through another case.

Charlie's face displayed none of the revulsion she was currently feeling. Instead, the furrow between his brows served only to indicate intense concentration. He paced the room carefully, avoiding the pools of blood collecting around the bodies.

He looked up, met her eyes. "Eight entry wounds," he said.

She didn't know why it surprised her, after all this time, that he could look through the carnage and find the details. She forced herself to focus, to pick out the bullet holes in the bodies, to isolate them in her mind. "Seems a little excessive," she commented. "It looks like all eight could have been fatal on their own."

"Someone took this personally."

"That tends to happen when there's $100 million at stake," a new voice interjected.

Reese and Crews looked up in surprise at the blonde woman standing in the doorway. Her navy blue pantsuit practically screamed 'Fed,' and Reese thought she looked about seventeen. "Can we help you?" she asked, an edge in her voice. Working with the Feds never turned out well.

Special Agent Barbie crossed the room, her stride confident, and stretched out her hand to Reese. "Sorry to barge in like this. Veronica Mars, FBI."

"Detective Reese. This is..."

But Veronica had already shifted her attention. "Charlie Crews. I've heard a lot about you."

"Why are you here, Agent Mars?" Dani asked sharply. Who did this girl think she was, coming in and thinking she knew anything about Crews?

Mars seemed to realize that she had crossed a line. "We've been investigating a counterfeiting ring for the past year and a half. These three were just the worker bees--we could never pin down the man in charge." She surveyed the human wreckage impassively. "Now I'm not sure we ever will."

Veronica pinched the bridge of her nose as she read the autoposy report. She hated joint investigations--local police invariably got pissy, and everything seemed to take three times longer than necessary. She should have had this report days ago.

Eight hollow point slugs. Vicious and predictable. Detective Reese's first instinct had been correct--any one of the wounds in each victim would have been fatal. Someone had taken things very personally indeed.

Reese and Crews weren't that bad, really. It's not like she had to work with Lamb, not that he could ever have cut it on the LAPD. Reese had a chip on her shoulder, but Veronica had no idea if that meant she had an issue with Veronica, the FBI in general, or just operated with that as her default setting. Crews...

Crews was fascinating. She'd read the true-crime books, seen the documentary, dug up the old articles. She'd even pulled the case file from the database. She knew about the $50 million settlement, the speculated affairs with his attorney, his ex-wife, and even the daughter of the victims in the crime for which he'd served twelve years. There was plenty to learn about Charlie Crews, if you had the access, the time, and the inclination.

So why couldn't she get any kind of read on him at all?

Charlie stared through the one-way glass into the interrogation room. Agent Mars had barred them from the questioning, which had, predictably, pissed off Reese. The two had been butting heads for the past three weeks.

"We worked just as hard on this case as she did," Reese seethed. "We deserve a piece of this asshole."

He continued to stare through the glass.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked testily.

"'It is better to practice a little than talk a lot,'" he intoned.

She turned to stare at the glass. "Damn Zen," she mumbled.

"At least you won't have to work with her anymore," he pointed out.

"Who, Agent Prom Queen? Thank God for small favors." She glanced over at him again. "I notice you didn't include yourself in that statement. You planning on...working with her after this?"

"Not particularly, no. Although it's certainly possible that we will have to work with the FBI on another case someday."

"Another case. Right."

It was always a surprise when the doorbell rang. Time hadn't changed his lack of furniture or the infrequency of his visitors. Even Ted and Rachel were gone, moved out and moved on.

"Agent Mars."

"Veronica," she corrected him.

"What can I do for you, Veronica?"

She gazed up at him, and he was struck--not for the first time--by how tiny she was. She was probably only a couple inches shorter than Reese, but somehow it seemed like more. "You're not at all what I expected."

"I'm not sure why you were expecting anything at all."

"My best friend was murdered when I was sixteen."

This was not, he realized, a conversation that was appropriate for the doorstep. "Why don't you come in?"

They sat at the dinner table; it never occurred to him to offer her something to drink. "What does your friend's death have to do with me?"

"After it happened...the wrong man was convicted of the crime. I spent most of my junior year of high school trying to find the right one."

"And did you?"

She nodded. "Eventually." She swallowed hard, the memories obviously still painful. "I had never even heard of you until I moved to LA, joined the Bureau. But when I did...I know what the settlement was, Detective Crews."

"Charlie."

"Okay, Charlie. I know that you don't have to work another minute in your life if you don't want. But you went back to the force. I wanted to know why."

"Why did you join the FBI?"

"Because I wanted to keep mistakes from being made."

He looked mildly amused. "I expected something about truth, justice, and the American way."

She smiled. "I'm a long way from Superman. Or even Clark Kent. My motives aren't nearly so altruistic."

"What are your motives for being here?"

"Simple curiosity isn't enough?"

"Maybe for a cat."

She laughed out loud. "You know, I think I'm starting to understand why Detective Reese is tense all the time. You're a tough nut to crack."

He didn't answer, just smiled a little.

She stood up. "Maybe I should just go. Your life is really none of my business."

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine."

"Technically, you never asked one."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Why did you go back to being a cop?"

"What do you gain by knowing?"

She huffed impatiently. "I don't know, personal satisfaction?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything at all."

"Okay, I think we're done here."

She headed for the front of the house, Charlie following a few steps behind. When she reached the door, she paused. "It was...interesting working with you, Charlie."

"Veronica?"

"Yeah," she replied, her hand on the knob.

"You joined the FBI to prevent mistakes. I went back to the LAPD to correct one."

She turned around, and extended her hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, shaking her hand. "You don't have to go, if you don't want."

His hand was warm, strong, and she didn't let go right away. "I could probably stay for a little while."

"I can order food."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

Half-empty Chinese food boxes littered the table, but there was no one in the room. The sun had set hours earlier, and the house was dark and quiet.

Veronica leaned back on her hands, her bare feet dangling over the edge of the pool and into the water. She'd insisted on a tour of the--depressingly empty--house, and it had ended on the patio, where the night air was tinged with chlorine.

"It's peaceful up here," she noted. "I didn't think anyplace in LA was this quiet."

"Do you miss your hometown?"

She laughed, the sound sharp. "God no. I miss my dad, but Neptune might as well have been the Hellmouth." At his blank look, she added, "From Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You missed a lot in prison, huh?"

"Pretty much everything."

She kicked her feet gently, making ripples in the water. "Thanks," she said quietly. "For putting up with me tonight, I mean. Answering my questions."

"You weren't what I expected, either."

She nearly gave herself whiplash turning to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"For twelve years, I had nothing but time. I read about every wrongful conviction in the state."

"You knew? All this time, you knew my life history, and you never said a word?"

"'You must neither strive for truth nor seek to lose your illusions.'"

She stood up angrily, her wet feet leaving dark footprints on the concrete. "Is that more of your Zen bullshit? Dammit, Charlie, you knew, and you let me walk in here tonight and make an idiot of myself."

"Reading a file doesn't mean you know a person."

"Is that supposed to be an excuse?"

"It is what it is." He looked up at her, his feet still swinging in the pool. "Is the past the only reason you came here tonight?"

She sat down again, close enough that their hips nearly touched. "Better or worse?" she asked.

"Better or worse than what?"

"Than what you expected."

He smiled, although he doubted she could see it in the dark. "Better. I never expected you to be here."

She chuckled. "Yeah, well, neither did I. Although...I might have hoped."

"Reese and Tidwell made a bet."

"On what?"

"Whether you'd show up here."

She felt her face flame. "Oh, God."

"Tidwell owes Reese twenty bucks."

She buried her face in her hands. "You must all think I'm insane."

He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "I don't mind."

She'd heard the rumors, about his attorney, his ex-wife, and everyone else. But none of them were there now. "It was a sucker bet," she whispered back.

"Oh?"

She nodded, dropping her hands to her lap and twisting her head so that her lips almost brushed his cheek. "They should have bet on whether or not I'd stay."

His hand curled around her hip, and he leaned forward so their foreheads touched. "How are the odds looking?"

She took a deep breath, caught a hint of his cologne mingled with the chlorine. "Pretty damn good, I think."

"You're not what I expected at all," he murmured again, just before he kissed her.

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Seven Minutes in Heaven" (Casey Cartwright/Ryan Atwood) PG

2009-01-02T23:17:01Z

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Seven Minutes in Heaven
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG
Pairing: Casey Cartwright/Ryan Atwood
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for season 4 of The O.C.. Not much else.
Summary: Casey is trying to get home for Christmas, but weather and fate strands her at the airport with one Ryan Atwood.
Disclaimer: Greek and The O.C. were created by Patrick Sean Smith and Josh Schwartz, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by inkstainedskin.

Casey sighed in exasperation as she made her way through the airport. Flying at Christmastime was always chaotic, but this year she had made the mistake of staying on campus until December 23rd. The local news had trumpeted it as one of the busiest travel days of the year, and bad weather had only made things worse. Every seat at every gate was filled, with people sitting on the floor along the walls of the concourse. Finally spotting an empty patch of tile, she quickly claimed it.

"This is unbelievable," she muttered, sinking down to the floor.

"Tell me about it," her new neighbor replied. "I've been here three hours already."

She turned to look at him, and was surprised to find that he was young and cute. Sort of early Russell Crowe, before he got old and not hot. "Where are you trying to go?"

"Providence, but I started in California at six this morning."

"Ouch," Casey said with a wince.

"What about you?"

"Trying to get home to Chicago. It's not looking especially promising. I'm Casey, by the way," she said.

"Ryan," he replied.

"So are you from Providence?" she asked.

"No, my brother and his girlfriend go to school out there, so this year the family decided to do an East Coast Christmas."

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah, except everyone flew out two days ago with no problems."

"Sucks to be you," she said sympathetically.

"Pretty much."

Casey groaned, and rolled her neck from side to side. After sitting on the hard floor for the better part of the last three hours, her back and shoulders were in knots. So far her flight had been delayed six times, but not outright cancelled. Unfortunately, the snow outside seemed to be coming down harder with each hour.

Beside her, Ryan stood up and stretched. The two of them had passed the time talking and playing cards, and if there was a bright spot to this fiasco, he was it. "I think I'm going to go get something to eat," he told her. "Do you mind watching my stuff?"

"No, go ahead."

"You want anything?"

"Sure. Burger, pizza--whatever you can find."

"Coming right up."

Watching him walk away, Casey pulled out her phone. Ashleigh answered on the second ring. "Hey, Casey."

"Hey Ash. You're not going to believe where I am."

"I'm guessing not Chicago?"

"I'm still at the airport. In Ohio."

"Yuck. Wasn't your flight supposed to leave hours ago?"

"Yeah. On the plus side, there's a cute guy who's been keeping me entertained."

"Ooh, airport boyfriend. I want details."

"His name is Ryan, and he goes to UC-Berkeley. I think he's studying architecture."

"That's great for him, but what does he look like?"

Casey laughed. "Blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, great arms..."

"Case, it's like seventeen degrees out there. How do you know what his arms look like?"

"It's like an oven in the airport. He took off his sweatshirt."

"Nice."

"Very."

Five hours. Five hours she'd been sitting there, and it was pushing midnight.

"We're not getting out of here tonight, are we?" she asked, glancing over at Ryan.

"It doesn't seem likely," he replied, and then yawned.

"Do you think they're ever going to tell us that, or just let us keep sitting here?"

Before he could reply, a voice came over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that the airport has been closed. There will be no departures or arrivals until further notice. Please see your airline customer service representative for assistance. Limited accommodations are available at area hotels. In addition, cots will be provided for your use. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Guess that answers your question," Ryan said quietly.

"Yippee," she said sarcastically. "I guess we should go and try to get this sorted out, huh?"

"Sounds like it."

It took over an hour and a half for them to snake their way through the customer service line. Thirty minutes in, an announcement was made that all the local hotels were now full.

"Looks like we're bunking here tonight," Ryan said with a a rueful sigh.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Casey suggested, trying to stay positive. "It'll be kind of like camp."

The look he shot her suggested he hadn't been a fan of camp.

"What do you mean there aren't any more cots?" Casey asked, struggling not to raise her voice.

"I'm sorry, miss. We just don't have enough for a crowd of this size," the airport employee explained.

"This is ridiculous," she huffed. "What are we supposed to do now?"

He looked utterly at a loss, and she reminded herself for the hundredth time not to lose her temper because it wasn't his fault.

Ryan tugged lightly on her hand. "Come on. We'll figure something out."

She allowed him to lead her away from the grumbling crowd of people without cots. His hand was warm and strong, and she found herself feeling reassured by it.

There were plenty of other people in the same predicament, and as they walked through the concourse, she saw people trying to sleep in the gate chairs, or simply sprawled out on the floor.

"There are probably less people further down," he told her.

They were almost all the way to the end before he headed into one of the gate areas. Maneuvering around a few sleeping people, he walked to the far side of the freestanding wall behind the gate counter. The area between the wall and the windows was just big enough for two people, and even allowed for a little more privacy.

"This okay?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sure."

They spent a few minutes arranging their stuff on the floor, balling up sweatshirts as pillows, and draping coats like blankets.

"This reminds me a little of slumber parties when I was a kid," she told him.

"Yeah? Did you braid each other's hair and have pillow fights?" he teased.

She laughed softly. "No, but one time in the eighth grade, Kimmy Morris invited boys to the first half of the party, and we all played Spin the Bottle."

"What, no Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

She shook her head. "I played once, in high school, but not at a slumber party."

They talked for a few more minutes, before closing their eyes and trying to sleep.

The minutes ticked by, but Casey still couldn't sleep. The airport was too bright, too public, not to mention a little chilly near the windows. She couldn't suppress a shiver.

"Cold?" Ryan whispered.

"A little," she admitted. "I thought you were asleep," she added, turning to look at him.

"Not yet. Do you want...I mean, if you're cold, we could..." He blushed, not sure how to phrase it without offending her.

"Cuddle?" she asked with a grin.

The blush deepened. "Share body heat," he corrected a little defensively.

"Semantics...but okay," she agreed, scooting closer and rolling onto her side.

He spooned his body behind hers, one arm wrapping carefully around her waist. "Okay?" he asked softly, his lips only inches from her ear.

It was better than okay. He radiated warmth, and even though she was a liberated, independent woman, there was something intensely comforting about being held in strong arms. "Mmhmm," she mumbled sleepily.

The airport was getting quieter, as slowly people settled in for an uncomfortable night. Casey was absolutely exhausted, but sleep was still elusive. After twenty minutes of trying to will herself to dreamland, she let out a frustrated puff of air.

"Can't sleep?" Ryan murmured.

"No. Sorry, am I keeping you awake?"

His arm on her waist tightened ever so slightly. "Not your fault. This isn't exactly the Ritz."

"It's not even the Motel 6."

He laughed, and the warm rush of his breath against her neck made her toes curl.

"I know today has sucked," she said, "but I'm glad I met you."

"Me too."

"Hey Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

Slowly, she twisted herself in his arms, so they were facing each other, their noses practically touching. "Want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

"Can you do that with only two people?"

"Oh, totally."

"And don't you need a closet?"

"Completely optional."

"Well, as long as we're clear on the rules..."

"Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Six Days of Spring Break" (Cappie/Cindy 'Mac' MacKenzie) PG-13

2009-01-02T02:35:17Z

Two days late, but the flu shows no mercy.

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Six Days of Spring Break
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cappie/Cindy 'Mac' MacKenzie
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 2 of Veronica Mars. Not much else.
Summary: Veronica and Mac go on spring break in Daytona Beach, FL. When Veronica winds up out of commission, Mac finds herself in the company of a certain Kappa Tau.
Disclaimer: Greek and Veronica Mars were created by Patrick Sean Smith and Rob Thomas, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by fireflower314.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Veronica cajoled. "Just once, don't you want to have the stereotypical college spring break experience? Even if it's only to laugh at the drunk, stupid people?"

"Veronica, we live in Neptune. Which is on the beach, last time I checked. Why on earth would I want to fly 2500 miles to go to a different beach?"

"Because it's fun? Supposedly?"

Mac looked up from her laptop and sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Veronica grinned. "Nope! We're both 21...legally able to get completely debauched in skimpy bikinis."

"My lifelong dream," Mac deadpanned.

Daytona Beach for spring break was everything that everyone said it would be, right down to the ridiculous competitions sponsored by MTV. It was a setting ripe for snark, and Mac would have been perfectly happy to sit on the beach and make rude remarks about all the bimbos and frat boys.

Unfortunately, making rude remarks wasn't much fun when there was no one around to hear them. Veronica's appendix had ruptured six hours after they landed in Florida, and although Mac had spent the entire first day with her at the hospital, now she was on her own. Veronica had insisted that she would be even more miserable knowing that Mac was wasting her spring break sitting in a semi-private room watching the incessant reruns of CSI on Spike.

Mac had promised to have fun on her behalf, to raise a margarita toast to the awesomeness that was Veronica Mars (Veronica had laughed at that, enough that it made her stitches pull, and then Mac felt guilty), and visit her at least once a day.

She wondered how early she could head over to the hospital, and how long she could stay, without seeming utterly pathetic.

She was a fun person. Really. It's just that her idea of fun didn't generally involve beer bongs or wet t-shirt contests.

Hiding out at the motel wasn't even a viable option. A spontaneous party had broken out around the pool at roughly ten a.m., featuring a mass of writhing, scantily clad bodies and a soundtrack that she was pretty sure was all Rihanna songs.

It was sort of like hell with coconut tanning oil.

"You look like you need a drink."

She wasn't sure if the guy was actually talking to her--he would be the first, if he was--but since his eyes were trained directly on her face, it seemed likely. "It might help," she admitted.

"It usually does," he replied with a grin, and she couldn't help noticing that he was pretty cute, despite the cowboy hat and the swim trunks with SpongeBob on them. "I'm Cappie, by the way."

"Mac," she replied automatically. "Cindy, technically. Cindy MacKenzie. But everyone just calls me Mac."

"Nice to meet you, Mac-who-is-technically-Cindy-MacKenzie. Pick your poison...beer? Rum? Tequila? Arsenic?"

She looked at him sharply--acidic wit wasn't what she generally associated with frat boys in dire need of a haircut.

"You just don't look like you're having much fun," he explained quickly. "And that is an absolute cardinal sin on spring break. I was just telling Spitter..."

"Spitter?"

"Rusty, actually, but would you want to go by Rusty?"

"Asks the guy named Cappie."

The grin was back, all easy charm and sly amusement, and wow, she bet this guy got away with murder on a regular basis. "That is a topic entirely unsuitable for spring break, or any other break for that matter, unless you're talking about Point Break, because only the sheer combined awesomeness of Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves could come close to prying that origin story out of me."

"I think I need that drink now."

Alcohol, it turned out, improved her attitude considerably, particularly since Cappie mixed a mean mojito. She was even starting to think that "Please Don't Stop the Music" had some lyrical merit when he decided to introduce her to some of his fraternity brothers.

"This is Spitter," he announced proudly, flinging an arm around the neck of a scrawny, awkward-looking kid. "Spitter, this is Mac."

"Hi," he greeted her, somehow managing to make even that one word sound hopelessly confused. The tentative little wave didn't help.

"Hi, Rusty," she replied, pleased that she could remember his name in spite of the rum, and was rewarded with a more relaxed smile.

"And this is Wade, Heath, and of course, the Beaver."

She immediately paled. She hadn't thought about Cassidy in a while, had finally managed to put that horrible chapter of her life in the past. She'd had relationships since then, relationships that didn't end with her naked and abandoned in a hotel room, lucky to be alive. She took an involuntary step backwards, the memories of that awful night rushing back in a flood of images that had the mojitos rising in the back of her throat. "I have to go," she mumbled, and bolted for the building.

Beaver looked over at Cappie, confused. "Haven't gotten that reaction in a while."

"I'd better go check on her," Cappie murmured, beginning to thread his way through the crowd. After twenty minutes of searching, he finally gave up and returned to the party, worry tempering his enjoyment considerably.

Mac rolled over in bed and glanced over at the alarm clock. It wasn't even seven a.m., but sleep had been elusive all night, and it seemed pointless to just stare at the ceiling. At the very least, she could stare at the ocean.

The courtyard and pool area were empty when she emerged from her room half an hour later, her hair still damp from the shower. The remains of the party littered the area, and she pitied whichever underpaid motel employee was forced to clean it up.

She took off her sandals when she reached the sand, enjoying the coolness of it between her toes as she wandered down to the water's edge. This was more her speed--a nearly empty beach, the only sounds the crash of the waves and the scream of the gulls as they swooped overhead.

Sighing, she sat down just above the tide line, stretching her legs so the water barely lapped her toes. It was her third day in Florida, and so far she'd had about an hour of fun. Not exactly the best average.

"What happened to you last night?"

She was surprised to see Cappie standing just behind her. "I can't believe you're up this early," she commented, not bothering to answer his question.

He sank down next to her. "Never actually went to bed," he admitted. "Spring break only comes once a year--I can sleep back in class."

She managed a smile. "You'll have to teach me your secret. This hasn't exactly been the trip I was hoping for."

He rocked towards her, bumped their shoulders together lightly. "Hey, I thought we were having fun last night...for a little while."

"We were," she agreed, "for a little while."

"So what happened?" he asked again. "I know the guys can be a lot to take, but usually they have to actually speak before people figure that out."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I, um, dated a guy once whose nickname was Beaver. It ended...badly." To put it mildly.

She thought, for a moment, that he might push for a better explanation. Instead, he just flashed a smile and said, "See, that's why you need to date guys with truly unique names."

"Like Cappie?" she teased, the relief almost palpable.

His blue eyes twinkled. "That's one option, of course."

"I'll keep that in mind."

There was another party around the motel pool that night, with what seemed like all the same people and all the same music. But instead of wandering around alone, she was with Cappie, who seemed to be followed by a vortex of fun.

When she had gone to the hospital for a visit that afternoon, Veronica had told her she was morally obligated to at least make out with the guy. It wasn't a completely terrible idea.

"What do you want to drink?" Cappie turned and asked her, his fingers grazing hers in a way that seemed oddly intimate given their surroundings.

"Anything but mojitos."

"Coming right up."

When he returned with her drink, Wade, Heath, and Beaver were trailing behind him. Leaning in close, he said quietly, "I thought we could try this again. Okay?"

She nodded, and made it through the reintroductions without having the urge to vomit. "Sorry about last night," she told them, struggling to keep her voice light. "Too many mojitos."

They nodded knowingly. "Happens to the best of us," Beaver intoned solemnly.

She couldn't help but smile at his serious expression, and she felt the knots in her stomach start to unravel. This guy seemed to be about as far from Cassidy Casablancas as you could get.

Maybe spring break hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

When Mac walked into the hospital room the next day, the first thing Veronica asked was, "Did you hook up with Cappie yet?"

Mac blushed. "No. I barely know him. And besides, he goes to school in Ohio. I'll probably never see him again after this week."

"Which is exactly the point! Didn't we agree that we were going to come and have a ridiculously stereotypical spring break experience?"

"I don't remember actually agreeing to that, you know."

"Well, you should have. Come on, Mac. I'm trapped in a hospital room. I need to live vicariously through you, and that includes getting to hear about how you made out with the hot frat boy."

Mac raised her eyebrows. "Any other requests?"

"No, I think that's enough."

"Gee, thanks."

The party that night was on the beach, and Mac spent most of the evening contemplating whether or not she should follow Veronica's advice. Cappie was cute and funny and charming, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was smarter than he let on. He was totally crushable.

So what was she waiting for?

"You look way too serious," Cappie said as he walked up, interrupting her thoughts. "Everything okay?"

"My friend Veronica thinks we should make out," she blurted, and clearly she should never drink tequila ever again.

She tried to tell her stomach to stop doing flip-flops when he smiled at her. "I think I'd like this Veronica. Does she have any other advice?" he asked, stepping close and tangling their fingers together. "Because I'm completely open to keg stands, skinny dipping, and parasailing."

"Parasailing?"

"It looks like fun."

"I'm not a big fan of heights."

"Guess we should just stick with the making out, then."

She had a witty retort all ready to go, but then he was kissing her, and it didn't seem the least bit important.

She was pretty sure she was going to owe Veronica for this one.

"I can't believe we go home tomorrow," Mac sighed. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "They are letting you go home tomorrow, right? Because flying and me? Not exactly friends."

Veronica chuckled. "Yeah, they said they'd discharge me in the morning, which means I might actually get to spend a little time at the beach. We've been here five days, and all I've done is watch TV."

"Aw, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation...Cappie and I kissed last night."

Veronica looked pleased. "And?"

"And what?"

"And how was it? And did you do anything besides kiss? And why did it take you twenty minutes of sitting there to tell me? Pick one."

"It was...nice."

Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Nice?"

"Not in a bad way! Well, except when his cowboy hat got in the way."

"He has a cowboy hat? You didn't mention a cowboy hat before."

"It didn't seem important."

"Living vicariously, here. Everything is important."

Mac laughed. "Sorry. Should I videotape the sex for you?"

"Ew. No. And is there going to be sex?"

"Presumably someone somewhere will be having sex tonight. Most likely lots of someones."

"Yes, but will you be one of those someones?"

"Maybe?"

"How's your friend doing?" Cappie asked.

"Better. The infection is almost gone, and they're released her tomorrow morning. Just in time for us to go home," she added quietly.

"Yeah, this week has really flown by," he agreed. "Possibly due to alcohol-related memory loss, but I prefer to think it's because of the 'time flying, having fun' corollary."

She laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Cappie."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Because I've gotten that comment in both contexts."

"Definitely a good thing," she laughed, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. "I actually had fun this week."

"You sound so surprised."

"I am. My fun generally involves computers."

"Kinky."

"Not of the internet porn variety."

"Damn. Because that would have been hot. Although possibly not as cool as parasailing."

"You really need to get over the parasailing thing."

"I'm willing to reopen the skinny dipping negotiations."

"Ask me again later."

"Seriously?"

"Maybe."

"What time do you have to pick up Veronica at the hospital?" Cappie asked, draping his arm over her waist and tugging her closer.

"Not for another couple hours," she replied, rolling over so she was facing him. Skinny dipping negotiations had been highly successful, and had proceeded in a predictable fashion. Cappie had even taken off the cowboy had.

Tracing patterns down her back, he said, "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"

"Oh, I have a few ideas," she told him, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly.

Six days in Daytona Beach, and her ratio of fun to not fun was well over fifty percent...but there was still time to improve that average.

"Parasailing?" he teased.

Clearly, there was only one way to shut him up. So she did.

Bleah

2008-12-31T03:35:48Z

Day Six will not be posted today, as I have been sick as a dog. I apologize for the delay, but I'm not sure anyone is reading the damn things anyway.

Yes, I'm cranky and ill. :P

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Five Rules" (Dean Winchester/Taylor Townsend) R

2008-12-30T02:11:32Z

I was totally getting twitchy that LJ wasn't going to come back in time for me to post this today. Phew!

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Five Rules
Author: angel_grace
Rating: R, for some profanity and sexual situations
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Taylor Townsend
Spoilers: Miscellaneous spoilers for the S4 premiere of Supernatural and S4 of The O.C..
Summary: One night stands might come without strings attached, but that doesn't mean there aren't rules.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and The O.C. were created by Eric Kripke and Josh Schwartz, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by halfway2home. This one turned out to be insanely fun to write...I hope it's not too cracktastic. Many thanks to monimala for helping me come up with Taylor's rules.

Newport Beach wasn't hell--if anyone was qualified to know, it was Dean--but it just might count as purgatory. Oh, sure, the eye candy was nice, and there were undoubtedly some kick-ass golf courses. But seriously, a coven that called itself the 'Newpsies'? That was just shameful.

On the plus side, said coven had been efficiently disbanded, which Dean was pretty sure would put a significant dent in the local Botox and lipo trade, but what was a guy to do? Safeguarding the general populace pretty much trumped any ill effects on the economy. If anything, a job so well done deserved a nice, cold beer. Or six.

After wandering around the pier for a while, indulging in a funnel cake (because who didn't love a funnel cake?), Dean found himself outside a place called The Bait Shop. The name was a little cheesy, and felt like a weak double-entendre, but there was supposed to be live music, so he ducked inside.

It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the dim interior. The place was reasonably crowded for a weeknight, but not so packed that there wasn't room to move, and he easily made his way to the centrally-located bar. Nodding at the bartender, he quickly ordered a beer and proceeded to scope out the scenery.

The crowd was younger than he had expected, and he realized that it was probably an all-ages club. That was going to make trolling for chicks a little trickier, because, hello, The Jailbait Shop really wasn't what he had in mind.

Leaning against the bar, he took a long pull from the frosty bottle, and mentally catalogued the top five candidates. The busty blonde six feet to his left seemed especially promising, if the belly-button ring glinting in the club lights was anything to go by. Which it totally was. He started casually moving in that direction when a slightly perky voice stopped him cold.

"She's still in high school."

He turned, vaguely annoyed but also grateful, and nodded. "Thanks for the tip."

"The older crowd doesn't usually show up until later," she added helpfully. "After curfew."

"Good to know." He gave her the once over, because that's what he did. She wasn't bad--long wavy hair (maybe light brown? It was hard to tell in there), pretty face, decent rack. She was sipping on a straw poked in some kind of fancy water bottle, and he cocked one eyebrow. "What about you?" he asked. "You have a curfew?"

She shook her head. "Not for years. I do, however, have a few rules."

"Rules for what? Talking to guys in bars?"

"One-night stands."

For the record? Beer coming out the nose? Hurts. "Excuse me?" he spluttered.

She gazed up at him, all wide-eyed innocence that he realized was totally, completely fake. "That is why you're here, isn't it? Find a pretty girl, take her back to your hotel or apartment or dorm or whatever, give her a night you're quite convinced she'll never forget, and then never see her again?"

Well, when she put it that way... "What kind of rules are we talking about here?"

She smiled. "Buy me a drink, and I might consider telling you."

Rule #1 was protection. She was on the Pill, but he had to wear a condom. He certainly wasn't going to argue, because if he got her knocked up, he might have to come back to this Godforsaken vortex of rich people. He really didn't want to do that unless there were demons to be killed.

"Do you have condoms?" she asked as he turned the key in the Impala's ignition.

"Of course," he replied, a little defensively.

"I was just asking. But I have my own. So we don't have to stop, either way."

"Glad that's settled."

Rule #2 was that they weren't allowed to kiss on the mouth. Girl had totally seen Pretty Woman too many times. And he was blaming Sammy for the fact that he even got that reference.

"If it's good enough for Julia Roberts, it's good enough for me," she said primly...or as primly as a person could when she was in the midst of getting a truly spectacular hickey, which meant it was more 'gasping' than 'prim.'

"You do realize that it was a character played by Julia Roberts, and not Julia Roberts herself? And that she was a hooker?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you, I am aware of those salient facts."

"Good, because I'm willing to do a lot of things, but pay for sex is not one of them."

He's pretty sure she would have slapped him, if he hadn't chosen that moment to kiss her. On the mouth. Rules were for pussies.

Except the condom one. That was just good sense.

Rule #3 was that he wasn't allowed to compare her breasts to any kind of fruit. Which was completely absurd, because who did that anyway?

"What kind of a rule is that?"

"The kind with a long, sordid story that I'm not about to share with someone I've known for an hour and thirty-seven minutes," she snapped as she shimmied out of her blouse.

Years of practice had him unclasping her bra in a matter of seconds. "So you'll have sex with me, but I'm not allowed to use fruit metaphors? Because they really are like ripe..."

One small hand clamped over his mouth, the other snaked down his jeans to wrap around his cock. "First off, that's a simile. Second, if you finish that sentence, I will castrate you."

Okay, so clearly the peaches comparison could wait until after the first orgasm.

Rule #4 was that they weren't allowed to stay in bed past 10 a.m.

"I'm all for the early bird getting the worm--" or the blowjob, if she was so inclined-- "but why not?"

"Because if you make it to brunch, then it's not a one-night thing."

Huh. That actually made a certain amount of sense. "So what you're saying is that we have..." he squinted at the clock, "ten hours and twelve minutes to satisfy any and all sexual fantasies before going our separate ways forever?"

"Something like that," she replied, catching his earlobe between her teeth and tugging gently.

"I can work with that," he hissed, hands skimming down her back, tugging her tighter against his body.

"Still," she said, wrapping her legs around his hips, "we shouldn't waste any time."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She didn't tell him Rule #5 until he was buried deep inside her.

"There's just one...last...thing," she gasped out, head flung back, hair a caramel-colored (dammit, Sammy) halo on the pillow.

"Hmmm?" was all he could manage at that particular moment.

Several seconds later, she mumbled, "You are absolutely not allowed to fall madly, passionately in love with me."

He waited until she stopped screaming his name and opened her eyes before replying. "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure you need to worry more about falling madly, passionately in love with me." Then, just for good measure, he kissed her...on the mouth.

Rules were totally for pussies.

(Except the condom one.)

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Four Shots Taken in a Game of 'I Never'" (Angela and Abby) PG

2008-12-29T01:23:51Z

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Four Shots Taken in a Game of 'I Never'
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG
Pairing: Abby Sciuto and Angela Montenegro, Abby Sciuto/Leroy Jethro Gibbs
Spoilers: Spoilers for Bones 3.9 "The Santa in the Slush." General spoilers through S6 of NCIS.
Summary: During a girls' night out, Abby and Angela end up playing a game of 'I Never.'
Disclaimer: NCIS and Bones were created by Donald Bellisario and Kathy Reichs/Hart Hansen, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala. Despite the crossover-y-ness, it was mostly an excuse for some Gibbs/Abby. :)

Angela was shivering as she walked into the bar. Snow was falling in D.C., the roads were a disaster, and she'd decided to walk rather than risk getting stuck in traffic in a cab. It had been tempting to cancel, but she didn't get to see Abby very often.

Theirs was an unusual friendship, forged when the quirky forensic scientist took an art class Angela taught a couple years before. Although Abby didn't have the makings of a professional artist, or even a serious amateur, she'd been an eager pupil. Often, she'd stay after class to discuss a particular theory or technique. Eventually, their conversations extended to other things, and when the class ended, they promised to keep in touch.

"Angela!" She turned at the sound of her name and saw Abby on the far side of the bar, familiar pigtails flying as she waved enthusiastically.

"Sorry I'm late," she said once she was close enough. "The walk took longer than I expected."

Abby wrinkled her nose. "You walked in this weather? You must be freezing!"

"It's only a couple blocks. But I could definitely use something to warm me up," she added with a grin.

With an answering smile, Abby signaled for the bartender.

"So I told you about the Christmas tree thing last year, right?" Angela asked, taking a sip of her martini. When Abby nodded, she continued her story. "This year, Booth found out that Russ and his family were going to see Amy's parents for the holidays. So of course, he invited Brennan and Max to spend Christmas with him and Parker."

"That's so sweet!"

"I know. Of course, Brennan freaked out, going on and on about 'implications' and 'connotations' and 'misinterpretations' because she and Booth are 'just friends.' She then proceeded to drag me to every toy store in the D.C. Metro area looking for the perfect present for Parker."

Abby laughed. "Wow, those two sound even worse than Tony and Ziva."

"Seriously," Angela agreed. "I swear, if they don't hook up soon, the entire Jeffersonian might combust from the sexual tension."

"Well, they better save a few firefighters for the Navy Yard. The number of smoldering glances between Tony and Ziva has gone up exponentially in the past six months."

"People are dumb," Angela said, absently popping peanuts from the basket on the bar. "I just don't see the point of fighting attraction if both people are available. It's just prolonging the inevitable, and wasting time on top of it." She drained her glass, and shot a sly look at her companion. "Speaking of...have you snared your silver-haired fox yet?"

Abby nearly choked on her vodka and Red Bull. When she managed to compose herself a little, she sputtered out, "I'm all for acting on attraction, but only if it's reciprocated! Gibbs would never..."

"How do you know unless you try?" Angela challenged.

Abby sighed "Rule #12, for starters."

"What's Rule #12?"

"Never date a coworker."

"The thing about rules, Abby...they were made to be broken."

The crowd in the bar had thinned out, as the hour got later and the weather got worse. Abby and Angela had moved from bar stools to a booth, their conversations ranging from the most recent movies they'd seen to the weirdest places they'd had sex. When Angela told the story of Cam seeing security footage of her and Hodgins doing the deed, Abby suddenly exclaimed, "We should totally play I Never!"

"I haven't played that since college," Angela protested.

"All the more reason to play now."

The terms of the game were simple--the first one to have to do five shots of tequila lost. Or won, depending on your perspective. Somehow, Angela suspected neither of them would let the five shots lined up in front of each of them go to waste.

The room was starting to spin, but Angela was determined to win the game. She and Abby had each taken four shots so far, and it was her turn. All she had to do was come up with something Abby had done that she hadn't. Easier said than done, since there wasn't much Angela hadn't done.

She thought for a moment, and finally started to smirk. "I never..." she began, drawing out the words, "have had a sexual fantasy about my current boss."

Abby's cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol, went even redder. "You are evil," she said, picking up her final shot glass.

It never made it to her mouth. "I really hope you're not talking about Director Vance, Abbs."

Her eyes went wide as the glass slipped from her fingers and she spun around. "Gibbs!" she squeaked.

Angela looked over the senior agent that Abby carried a not-so-secret torch for. Oh yeah--definitely a silver fox.

"What are you doing here?" Abby gasped out, stumbling to her feet. Only Gibbs's steadying arm at her elbow kept her from falling.

"You weren't answering your phone, and the weather's bad," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"Aw, you were worried!" Abby exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Leaning back just enough to look at him, she asked, "But...how did you find me?"

"I had McGee track your phone."

She giggled. "That sounds a lot like stalking, Gibbs. Totally sweet stalking, but still."

"I think it's time to get you home, Abbs." He looked over at Angela, as if just remembering she was there. "Do you need a ride, Ms..."

"Montenegro. Angela Montenegro. And no, thanks, I'll just call a cab, Agent Gibbs."

She watched in amusement as he got Abby bundled into her coat. His expression was a mixture of affection and exasperation, and Abby was right--he was a tough one to read. But she had seen his face when Abby hugged him, and she'd stake her reputation as an artist that there was something there.

They were halfway to Abby's apartment when she blurted out, "It wasn't Director Vance."

"I know that, Abbs, " he said calmly, not looking over at her.

"Oh. So then you know it was..."

He cut her off before she could get the last, fateful word out. "What I know is that you've had a lot to drink tonight. But if you still want to talk about it tomorrow...then we can."

She felt warmer, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. Tomorrow. She could deal with tomorrow. What was another day after seven and a half years?

Her eyes were drifting closed by the time they reached her apartment, and she didn't open them until Gibbs opened the passenger door. He walked her all the way to her door, and watched her with badly-concealed humor as she fumbled with her keys.

"Goodnight, Abbs," he said when she got the door open, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Night. Hey, Gibbs?" she said, before he could walk away.

"Yeah?"

Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips. "Tomorrow," she promised.

Yes, tomorrow would be a very interesting day indeed.

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Three Broken Laws" (Tim Riggins/Veronica Mars) PG-13

2008-12-28T04:14:18Z

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Three Broken Laws
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tim Riggins/Veronica Mars
Spoilers: Miscellaneous spoilers for season 3 of Veronica Mars. Not much else.
Summary: Poor judgment and bad navigation strand Veronica Mars in Dillon, TX. Tim Riggins is no knight in shining armor, but he'll do in a pinch
Disclaimer: Friday Night Lights and Veronica Mars were created by Peter Berg and Rob Thomas, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by mrs_boyscout. This...didn't end up quite the way I saw it in my head. Bit longer and a shade darker than I had planned, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

It was the sirens that woke Veronica. Blinking slowly, she sat up in the reclined passenger seat of the Saturn. "What's going on?" she asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

Weevil didn't meet her eyes as he steered the car to a stop at the side of the road. "I, uh, might have been goin' a little above the speed limit."

Suddenly awake, she asked, "How far above the limit?"

"Oh, y'know, maybe fifteen miles...maybe twenty-five."

"Weevil!" She buried her face in her hands just as the cop tapped on the window.

Weevil lowered it quickly. "Evening, officer. What seems to be the trouble?"

"I clocked you doing 92 in a 65, youg man. License and registration, please."

He pulled out his wallet while Veronica fumbled in the glove compartment for the registration. Both of them were silent until the officer had walked back to his car.

"Sorry, V."

She shrugged, leaning back in her seat, eyes already drifting shut again. "It's just a speeding ticket. Not exactly the end of the world."

"See, that's the thing...it might be a little more than that."

Maybe if she didn't open her eyes it would all go away. "What do you mean?"

"I, ah, might have forgotten to mention this trip to my parole officer."

"Well, shit."

Veronica drove slowly, keeping her eyes peeled for a motel with a 'vacancy' sign. Weevil was being kept overnight at the station in Midland--the late hour on a weekend meant nothing could be worked out until the morning.

She sighed, and resisted the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. This whole trip had been Weevil's idea. Even though he wasn't actually in college, he'd gotten it into his head to go on Spring Break. After much wheedling, cajoling, and outright begging, he'd convinced Veronica to road-trip with him to South Padre Island. Being 1500 miles from her latest Logan drama was just a bonus.

But instead of boozing it up with the coeds and frat boys, she was entering the town of Dillon, population Not Nearly Enough, looking for a place to sleep. On top of the parole fiasco, Weevil had managed to take them several hundred miles out of their way, mistakenly getting on Route 20 instead of staying on 10. Clearly, this trip was cursed--or at least in dire need of a radar detector and a GPS.

There was a loud noise, and the car jolted. Pulling over, Veronica was tempted to scream when she saw the flat tire.

Five minutes later, she did scream when she found the spare flat as well...and that cell phone reception was nonexistent.

Tim looked up when the door opened, and was surprised when a young, pretty blonde walked in. She didn't exactly fit the normal clientele of The Landing Strip. She looked tired and frustrated, and without a second thought he was out of his seat and ambling her way.

"You look a little lost," he greeted her.

She looked up--she had to be close to a foot shorter than he was--and nodded. "Any chance this place has a pay phone?"

"Sure, in the back," he replied, hooking a thumb in that direction. "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you've got a spare tire for an '07 Saturn VUE on hand."

"Nope, sorry." He caught her arm as she started to walk away. "Phone's not going to help, either."

"Why not?"

He grinned. "This is Dillon, sweetheart. Not much open past nine on a Saturday except the bars, Applebee's, and the Alamo Freeze."

"Of course there's not. Because that's just par for the course tonight. So what am I supposed to do now?"

"Have a drink with me," he replied, that easy grin back in place.

She hesitated. He seemed harmless, but appearances could be deceiving--a lesson she'd learned the hard way. There was also the small issue of not being twenty-one, but she'd had a fake for years. After the speeding and the parole violation, what was one more broken law tonight? "What the hell," she finally said. "Having a drink in a strip club with a total stranger is a perfect ending to my day."

He stuck out his hand. "Tim Riggins."

"Veronica Mars," she replied, shaking his hand. Long fingers, rough skin--he was no California pretty boy.

"See, now we're not strangers."

They didn't build guys like Tim Riggins in California. He was completely at ease in his own skin, exuding a sexual energy that had her wondering how many of the strippers he'd already nailed. But there was also a darkness behind his eyes, an edge that reminded her a little of Weevil. This was someone who understood consequences, but couldn't really be bothered by them.

Or maybe that was just the beer talking.

She'd only been planning on one drink, but he'd ordered another round without asking, and she didn't want to be rude. It's not like she had anything better to do anyway.

"Texas is a long way from California," he said by way of restarting their stalled conversation.

"Road trip to South Padre Island."

He arched one eyebrow. "You do know you're going the wrong way?"

"Learned that when we got pulled over for speeding and my friend got hauled in on a parole violation."

The other eyebrow went up. "You have friends on parole?"

"Just the one. What's your point?"

"You don't seem like the type, is all."

"I don't seem like a lot of things," she mumbled into her beer bottle.

He stood up abruptly. "Let's get out of here."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

He looked down at her, and after a moment he seemed to understand that there was fear and caution behind her hesitation. "You can't stay here all night," he reminded her quietly.

The reality of her situation settled over her again. Sooner or later, she was going to have to trust someone. "Where did you have in mind?"

"My brother and I have a couch. It's not the Ritz, but you're welcome to crash for the night. You can call about your car in the morning."

Still she hesitated. Gut instinct told her he was no Cassidy or Mercer, but her gut wasn't always reliable. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

Tim's brother Billy was sitting on the couch watching TV when they walked into the house. If he found it odd that his little brother had brought home a stray, he didn't mention it.

Tim glanced between Billy and Veronica, saw the doubt on her face again. "What don't you take my room?" he offered. "I can take the couch."

She couldn't quite hide her relief. "Okay. Thanks, Tim."

Veronica's eyes flew open, disorientation nearly overwhelming her. It took her a moment before she remembered where she was, and even then her heart was pounding. Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed and slowly made her way in the dark to the closed and locked door. She opened it as quietly as she could, and stepped out into the hall. The house was quiet, and she wondered what time it was.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, she padded into the kitchen, wanting a glass of water. There were no curtains on the front window, and she could see Tim sprawled across the couch in the living room. His chest was bare, skin pale in the moonlight, and she took an involuntary step forward.

"Veronica?" he said.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't meant to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," he said, and she couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

She came around the couch and sat on the coffee table, clutching her water glass a little tighter than necessary. "I should let you have your bed back. That can't possibly be comfortable for you."

"It's just one night. No big deal. What about you? Couldn't sleep?"

"Just woke up all of a sudden. Strange place and all that." She paused. "Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. I could've done a lot worse," she teased.

"No problem. Anyone would've done the same."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

They lapsed into silence, the kind of sleepy silence that only happens in the middle of the night, when people can only see shadows instead of faces. It stretched until she started to wonder if perhaps he'd fallen asleep, but she didn't speak and she didn't move, because her life doesn't have many quiet moments.

"South Padre is overrated."

She started a little, then chuckled quietly. "It certainly doesn't seem like it will be worth all this trouble." Even as she said the words she regretted them, because they made her sound ungrateful for what he'd done that night, and even she's not that much of a callous bitch. "I don't mean you," she added.

"Wasn't worried," he replied, body shifting on the couch as he propped his head up on one hand.

She wished, suddenly, that she could see his face. They'd only talked about her, where she was from and how she'd ended up in Dillon. She didn't know anything about him.

She set her glass down on the table, the dull clunk loud in the quiet room. Her hand found his face in the darkness, fingers grazing over the beginnings of stubble. It was easy, then, to lean in and kiss him.

He didn't hesitate to respond, his free hand coming up to tangle in her hair. She thought about how easy it would be to let it go too far, to climb on the couch and let him do what she was quite certain he did best.

Instead, she pulled back. "I should go back to bed."

She told herself it didn't matter when he didn't try to stop her.

They never made it to South Padre. Weevil's situation got complicated, and he ended up on a plane back to California. Somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to drive the rest of the way without him. Bad enough she'd have to drive home alone.

The Saturn had four good tires and a functional spare, so it seemed only logical to drive over to the Riggins place.

"I hear South Padre's overrated," she greeted Tim when he opened the door.

He grinned down at her, apparently not at all surprised to find her on his doorstep. "Completely."

"So tell me," she said, brushing past him into the house without waiting for an invitation, "what is there to do in Dillon?"

"Not a whole lot," he told her, closing the door and turning around. Two steps and he was directly in front of her, their bodies not quite touching, his hand hovering close to hers, waiting for her to close the distance. She smiled up at him, their fingers lacing together easily, firmly. "But somehow, I don't think you'll be bored."

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Two Exorcisms That Just Didn't Take" (Brooke Davis/Sam Winchester)PG-13

2008-12-26T19:21:42Z

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Two Exorcisms That Just Didn't Take
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13, for one some profanity and sexual situations
Pairing: Brooke Davis/Sam Winchester
Spoilers: General spoilers for season 5 of One Tree Hill. Not much else.
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are very good at what they do, but not even they succeed every time. One night, after a painful failure, Sam meets Brooke Davis, who is having a crisis of her own.
Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and Supernatural were created by Mark Schwahn and Eric Kripke, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala

The neon lights of the bar spelled out 'TRIC,' which Sam thought was appropriate. His life lately felt like an unending string of nasty tricks of fate. Tonight, unfortunately, was no exception.

Exorcisms were never easy. They were always horrifying to watch, and sometimes, like tonight, they just didn't work.

The girl's name had been Valerie. He and Dean had caught wind of some potential demonic activity in the town of Tree Hill, North Carolina, and it hadn't taken long to track down the source. A good old-fashioned exorcism--with the Latin but minus the pea soup--was the order of the day, and he'd really believed they could save her.

Instead they were left with the corpse of an innocent girl, and a demon that was free to torment another victim.

He pitied the M.E. who had to try and determine the cause of death.

It wasn't the first time they had failed, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Still, it hit them hard. Dean bought a fifth of Jack Daniels and holed up in the motel room. He offered to split it with Sam, but he was restless and anxious and felt confined by the four walls of the small, dumpy room.

Which was how he ended up at TRIC. Presumably, they had tequila.

Brooke angrily swiped away tears as she tossed the last photograph into the fireplace. The fact that the images still existed in digital form on her laptop didn't negate the cathartic nature of the act. She was determined to purge Christopher from her life, and this was only the beginning.

She couldn't believe what an idiot she'd been. She'd honestly believed he might be 'the one,' her soulmate, and all that other romantic bullshit that Peyton and Lucas liked to spout off about. And maybe he could have been--if he hadn't been spying on her for her mother. The evil bitch.

Her cell phone rang for the sixth time in the past hour, and she answered it with gritted teeth. "Stop calling me, asshole."

"Brooke, please. You have to let me explain."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"Because I love you."

Against her better judgment, she felt herself soften. "If that were true, you wouldn't be working for Victoria."

"Look, I know that's how it started. But I swear, somewhere along the way I fell for you. For real."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Do you honestly think I could have faked the last six months?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, and didn't answer right away. She wanted to believe him, wanted the love story to be real. But still... Finally, she sighed. "Meet me at TRIC in half an hour. Maybe if I see your face I'll know if you're lying."

Sam was on his third shot of tequila when the pretty brunette walked into the bar. She was an absolute knockout, with full lips and lush curves. Dean would have been all over that, but he just watched as she took a seat at a small table on the far side of the room.

Fifteen minutes ticked past, and he sipped on his beer chaser, until all that's left was the last warm swallow at the bottom of the bottle. He had to tilt his head a little to keep the woman in his line of sight, and he didn't really know why he was watching, except that she was pretty and he was a little drunk.

He knew the exact moment when it all went wrong, when she looked down at her watch and her face crumpled in disappointment, and then hardened in anger. And he realized he was more than a little drunk when he got up and walked over to her table, determined, somehow, to make it all better.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered as soon as he was close enough.

She looked up at him, sadness and resignation marring her features. "I'm really not in the mood."

Undeterred, he sat down at her table. "Then you can buy me a drink."

Against her better judgment, she laughed. "Sure, what the hell? It's not like anything else tonight has gone according to plan. What are you drinking?"

"Tequila shots. Beer chasers."

She wrinkled her nose, but signaled a waitress and ordered two shots and two beers.

"You look like you're having a bad night," he said once the waitress was gone.

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean...you just looked...less than thrilled with life."

She sighed, and knocked back the tequila shot that the waitress had just brought. "Yeah, well, have you ever just wanted to, like, expel someone from your life? To make every last trace of him--or her--just disappear?"

He really hoped she wasn't talking about demons. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"I just don't understand why men suck so much."

He knocked back his own shot before answering. "Yeah, I'm not touching that one."

She grimaced. "Not you. I don't even know you. But men in general. I'm Brooke, by the way."

"Sam. Sam Winchester."

"So Sam, Sam Winchester, what brings you to Tree Hill?"

"Just passing through. On business." Of the 'usually reserved for Roman Catholic priests' variety.

"I see. Alone?"

"With my brother. Who is...most likely passed out from an excess of Jack Daniels by now."

"Guess he won't miss you then."

"No, I guess not."

They were both undeniably shit faced when the bartender informed them that it was last call. Brooke lurched to her feet, steadying herself with her hands on the table. "C'mon," she said, crooking her finger at him.

"Where're we going?"

"My friend owns the place. My other friend has 'n office back here. She won' mind if we crash for a l'il bit."

He followed her dutifully, stepping carefully so he wouldn't fall on his ass. Speaking of ass...his eyes followed the sway of her hips as she led him to the back of the club. He wondered, absently, if Dean would ever forgive him if he didn't at least try to get Brooke naked. It was a sacrifice he might just have to make.

She opened the door with some difficulty and stumbled into the spacious room, which was faintly illuminated only by emergency lighting. She groped along the wall for a second and flipped a switch, turning on the overheads. Sam blinked at the sudden brightness, and then blinked again when she flung her arms around his waist.

"How long are you in town, Sam, Sam Winchester?" she mumbled against his chest, only slurring the words a little.

"Long enough," he replied, as his hands settled on the curve of her hips. Slowly he slid them down to the hem of her short skirt, and as his fingers grazed the skin of her thigh, it occurred to him that he should probably kiss her first.

She tasted like tequila and beer, and the cherry lip gloss he'd watched her apply not five minutes earlier. She wasn't shy about the kiss, diving in with teeth and tongue, one hand pulling on the back of his neck and the other starting to fumble with his belt buckle.

"This is probably a bad idea," he broke away long enough to say, even as his hands were shoving her skirt up, his thumb hooking in the elastic of her skimpy underwear.

"Only kind worth having sometimes," she whispered back, yanking loose the leather belt and expertly popping the button on his jeans.

They didn't say much after that, save for a hissed 'yes' here and there, a mumbled 'just like that' and a gasped 'right there' punctuating their frantic breathing. They stumbled to the couch, leaving a trail of clothes, and when they come together in lusty desperation, Sam couldn't remember how he ended up there that night, and couldn't bring himself to care. It was exactly what he wanted, and she was more than he could have ever imagined.

She curled into his body when it was over, the drying sweat on her skin leaving her chilled, and he wrapped himself around her to share warmth. He kissed her on the forehead, and wished, for neither the first nor the last time, that his life didn't consist of 'just passing through.'

"I needed this tonight," she said softly, her fingers curling around his bicep. "If only to remind myself that not all men suck," she added with a quiet laugh.

"Glad I could help with that," he answered dryly. "This was...thank you, Brooke."

"Anytime."

"Next time I'm passing through," he told her, and it sounded, almost, like a promise.

FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: One St. Jude's Tie" (Julie Taylor/Chuck Bass) PG-13

2008-12-25T17:02:46Z

First and foremost, Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! The stockings were hung and all that, and mom is cooking breakfast as we speak. Yummo.

My first Yuletide was a smashing success, as I loved both my main story (What Happens In Vegas) and my Yuletide treat (Pink Cupcakes). Friday Night Lights and Cupid FTW!

And one last ado before the without further ado of my first 12 Days fic...2 prompt slots (conveniently, 11 and 12) still remain in my personal fic challenge. If you'd like to get in a last-minute request, act now by going here.

And now, without further ado...the fic!

Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: One St. Jude's Tie
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13, for one use of profanity
Pairing: Julie Taylor/Chuck Bass
Spoilers: No show-specific ones, I don't think, for either Friday Night Lights or Gossip Girl.
Summary: A small-town girl in the big city. To Chuck Bass, that's pretty much catnip.
Disclaimer: Friday Night Lights and Gossip Girl were created by and are owned by people other than me. No profit is being made from the use of these characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by leobrat.

Julie stared up at the imposing facade of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She couldn't believe she was actually there. It hadn't been easy convincing her parents--especially her dad--that a class trip to New York City was worth the cost and potential corruption of their oldest daughter. She might not have succeeded at all if her mom hadn't rallied to the cause after a while. Even her dad couldn't really say no once Tami Taylor made up her mind.

Now, all that mattered was that she was there, and she intended to make the most of it.

Chuck lounged on the museum steps, watching with vaguely bored amusement as yet another charter bus deposited a load of wide-eyed naifs. It was spring in the city, which meant the tourist per capita was up--along with his conquests of malleable virgins.

"What do you think?" he asked Nate, who was trying to plow through one last chapter of Anna Karenina. "Suburbs? The Midwest? Deep South?"

Nate glanced up, annoyance flickering across his features. "What difference does it make? We have an English quiz in fifteen minutes. Have you even started the book?"

"The difference is in the approach, Nathaniel. One does not rely on a single method of seduction. Know your target, and you automatically increase your chances of success."

"If you spent half the time studying as you do plotting seduction, you'd probably be valedictorian."

Chuck scowled. "You've clearly been spending far too much time in Brooklyn. Again. Enjoy the English quiz. I'll be furthering my education in other ways today." Rising elegantly, he stalked up the steps without a glance back.

Julie turned the map ninety degrees, and then another ninety. After staring at the offending paper for nearly five minutes, she finally concluded that she had no idea where she was.

"Lost?" she heard someone ask.

She turned to face a guy around her age, with dark hair and hooded eyes. "Completely," she admitted.

"What are you trying to find?"

"The modern art collection. Specifically Jackson Pollock."

"Allow me," he said, holding out his hand for the map.

She handed it to him, and then watched, puzzled, as he carefully folded it up. "What are you doing?"

"You won't be needing a map," he assured her. "You have me."

It was tempting to laugh in his face, but she just asked. "And who are you?"

He smirked, the expression faintly predatory. "I'm Chuck Bass."

It took Julie less than five minutes to decide that Chuck Bass made Tim Riggins look like a rank amateur. He was handsome and charming, almost old-school debonair. It was a far cry from the Riggins method of flirtation, which mostly consisted of "Here's a beer. Wanna fuck?" Not that Riggins had ever said that to her. Unfortunately.

Chuck, on the other hand, was pulling out all the stops, playing the role of tour guide to the hilt. He'd taken her arm like he was her escort at the debutante ball, and was peppering their stroll through the museum with miscellaneous factoids and amusing anecdotes about various pieces of art. His voice was intoxicating, low and intimate, and he could almost make her believe they were the only two people in the immense building.

Naturally, she didn't trust him at all. Her mama hadn't raised a fool.

"Tell me about where you're from," he practically purred.

She shrugged. "There's not much to tell. It's a tiny town in Nowhere, Texas that no one has ever heard of except college football scouts. It's so far from New York, it might as well be Mars."

He stopped them in front of a Rodin sculpture, and angled his body towards hers. "It sounds like you want to leave."

"I do, and I will. One more year, and I'm off to college. Preferably as far from Dillon as possible."

He studied her face intentely. "I can't see you in a small town. You're so much more than that."

She couldn't help herself--she laughed out loud. "Do those lines actually work? Or did you just expect them to work on the 'simple small-town girl'?"

He looked affronted, but didn't deny the accusation. "Simply expressing an opinion," he said stiffly.

"You've known me less than an hour, Chuck. The only opinion you have of me is that I'm an easy mark."

He released her arm and took a step back. "Clearly I was wrong about you. Enjoy the rest of your visit."

She allowed him to get five feet away before calling after him. "Chuck."

He paused, and turned to face her again. "Yes?"

She approached him slowly, bravado faltering slightly with each step. When she was close enough, she reached out and tugged gently on the tie she assumed was the mark of some snooty private school. "I'm not some stupid small-town girl," she said quietly, "and I'm not an easy mark. I am, however, 1900 miles from my parents." She pulled a little harder on the tie, forcing him to take a step closer. When she spoke again, her voice was even softer. "And I'm...open to new experiences."

A thousand lascivious thoughts flashed through his mind at her words, most of them involving champagne, bedposts, and his blasted tie. "Well then," he murmured, dipping his head close to hers, "why don't we go exploring?"

With less procrastination than usual

2008-12-19T02:55:17Z

Yuletide is finished! Written, checked, and uploaded today.

Man, I hope my recipient likes it. Eek.

12 Days of Crossovers UPDATE

2008-12-18T13:17:06Z

Calling all fic prompts! Three slots remain in my 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge! Even if you have already requested a pairing, the challenge is now open to you again. My only completely arbitrary and possibly unfair rule is that the pairings you request now must be different than any you already posted previously.

Please go here to post your prompt!

TV meme

2008-12-17T03:26:46Z

Nicked from chrysalitron...

01. Name a TV show series in which you have seen every episode at least twice:
I don't think any, honestly, although I'd probably come close with NCIS or CSI, not counting the current seasons that haven't reaired.

02. Name a show you can't miss:
Only one? LOL. Since I just watched it, NCIS.

03. Name an actor that would make you more inclined to watch a show:
Nathan Fillion. I even tried to go back to Desperate Housewives for him. It didn't take, but I tried.

04. Name an actor who would make you less likely to watch a show:
I'm going to steal chrysalitron's answer of Jerry Seinfeld. HATE.

05. Name a show you can, and do, quote from:
I'm not really a quoter, but I've picked up some of the How I Met Your Mother-isms. And "shiny" has become part of my regular vocab, courtesy of Firefly.

06. Name a show you like that no one else enjoys:
There are lots of shows that no one in my 'real life' watches, but that's what the Internet is for! Maybe Cold Case? I feel like I don't know anyone who watches it.

07. Name a TV show which you've been known to sing the theme song:
Friends. I miss the days when most shows had themes you could sing.

08. Name a show you would recommend everyone to watch:
Friday Night Lights. It doesn't get nearly the viewership it deserves. I know a lot of people write it off because it's purportedly about high school football. But trust me when I say that it is so much more than that...and I don't even like football, particularly.

09. Name a TV series you own:
LOL. Again, only one? I think I have over 100 box sets encompassing all or parts of thirty-odd series, including Alias, Angel, Arrested Development, Bones, CSI, CSI: NY, entourage, Eureka, Everwood, The Facts of Life, Family Ties, Firefly, Fraggle Rocks, Friday Night Lights, Friends, Gilmore Girls, Grey's Anatomy, Heroes, House, How I Met Your Mother, Keen Eddie, Life Goes On, The Lone Gunmen, Lost, The Muppet Show, NCIS, Numb3rs, The Pretender, Psych, seaQuest, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Veronica Mars, Weeds, The X-Files, and The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles.

10. Name an actor who launched his/her entertainment career in another medium, but has surprised you with his/her acting chops in television:
Um... Well, he's obviously better known for movies these days, but I never imagined that the guy who rapped that "Parents Just Don't Understand" would become, well, Will Smith.

11. What is your favorite episode of your favorite series?
I'm not even sure what my favorite series is. It was CSI for a while, and I loved the S1 episode "Blood Drops," when the only survivors of a massacre of a family are a girl and her younger 'sister,' played eerily well by Dakota Fanning. I also love the "Out of Gas" episode of Firefly. "Three Stories" from House. "Postmodern Prometheus" from The X-Files.

12. Name a show you keep meaning to watch, but you just haven't gotten around to yet:
Battlestar Galactica. Everyone says it's awesome, but it just looks so damn heavy.

13. Ever quit watching a show because it was so bad?
Desperate Housewives. Man, I loved it the first season. Now I can't stomach it at all. One Tree Hill, which was always bad, but I stuck with it for a while. The O.C., once it became clear that Marissa would always suck and they would never stop beating the Ryan/Marissa horse. Dawson's Creek, although I came back for the series finale and sobbed my eyes out.

14. Name a show that's made you cry multiple times:
Everwood was probably the most reliable show for making me bawl like an idiot.

15. What do you eat when you watch TV?
Everything? LOL Sometimes munchies, sometimes dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Depends on the day.

16. How often do you watch TV?
WAY too much. Any evening I'm home, I have it on, even if I'm doing something else.

17. What's the last TV show you watched?
The Mentalist ended a little while ago.

18. What's your favorite/preferred genre of TV?
I watch a lot more dramas than comedies. And honestly, give me a procedural--particularly one with a sense of humor, a la Bones or NCIS--and I'm content.

19. What was the first TV show you were obsessed with?
Obsessed? Geez, I don't know. I don't remember watching many series as a kid. seaQuest inspired me to write fanfic before I knew there was such a thing, so I guess that.

20. What TV show do you wish you never watched?
Um...I can't really think of any. Even the ones that grew to infuriate me were responsible for me meeting some pretty great people.

21. What's the weirdest show you enjoyed?
I have no idea...I don't feel like I watch anything that's too far outside the norm.

22. What TV show scared you the most?
I tend to avoid creepy things, but a lot of episodes of The X-Files would probably rate.

23. What is the funniest TV show you have ever watched?
Funniest ever? That's so hard to say, because things are funny in such different ways. Currently, I think the funniest show I'm watching is The Big Bang Theory (yes, even funnier than HIMYM).

Verbosity

2008-12-12T02:29:28Z

THIRTY-FOUR PAGES for the latest Gossip Girl recap?! Seriously, TWoP? That's practically a transcript.

And yet you couldn't even catch the John Hughes shout-out last week. Lame.

The Magnificent Van der Basses

2008-12-09T02:40:33Z

Huh. Tonight's episode of Gossip Girl was...interesting. So, no big surprise, Bart bit the dust. We didn't even get to see the poor guy, except in a newspaper photo. Lame, that.

Chuck was absolutely, positively heartbreaking. I absolutely loved that the show remembered that Blair, Chuck, and Nate have been friends for a long time, and that those were the two who tried to be there for him. I loved his confrontation with Dan. Serena, naturally, was somewhat annoying, because clearly having her ex-boyfriend at the funeral of her stepfather, who she didn't even like, was more important than trying to ease the pain of the guy's son. *eyeroll* At least she was wearing more clothes this week. And oh, God, how heartbreaking was it when Erik told Chuck he didn't want to lose his brother? *sniffle*

Of course, there was the Chuck/Blair storyline running throughout the episode. Honestly, the only somewhat false note for me came during her confession of love. It just felt...overwrought, and not in a particularly organic way. And the way she wiped away her tears? Very odd.

On the other hand, him showing up in her bedroom, absolutely wrecked, and her embracing him? Perfection. Naturally, they couldn't get a happy ending, but it felt right to me. The two of them are like magnets, but when the poles are flipped the wrong direction, it just doesn't work.

And then there were Chuck and Lily. Christ on a cracker, Lil, you're a selfish bitch. For her to even suggest that if Chuck hadn't called Bart, he wouldn't have been in the accident?! My God, woman, if you hadn't been mooning over Rufus at the effing school dance, none of this would have happened!

Did Chuck's burning the secret mean he decided not to tell?

So, Rufus and Lily have a baby. Way to be original, show. Maybe he/she can make yamulclauses and help the Cohens celebrate Chrismukkah next. Oh, wait, that was that other Josh Schwartz show.

Eleanor and Cyrus getting married was intensely adorable, and I love that Blair is bonding with Cyrus. Wallace Shawn rules. And Dorota was totally in the wedding! Whee!

Finally, I vote that Serena stays in Buenos Aires.

Shondaland

2008-12-05T17:06:31Z

I realize that the portion of the Internet devoted to analyzing TV is still on the 'bash Grey's Anatomy bandwagon' and that it's still trendy to hate on Private Practice. I don't really care. I'd turn in my Cool Card, but I've never been cool, so there you go.

First up is PP, which I think has greatly improved since S1. The Addison I grew to love at Seattle Grace seems to be back, which is a key point in my enjoyment of the show. (The fact that they have--at least temporarily--abandoned her chemistry-less flirtation with Pete helps too.) Can I just say how happy I am that Chris Lowell's character has more to do this season? I adored him as Piz on Veronica Mars, so much so that I Netflixed his previous short-lived series, Life As We Know It. (The bitter fangirl in me would also like to point out that PP outlasted Moonlight. Suck it, Echolls. :P) Anyway...I love that Dell has gone from surfer man candy pining after Naomi to a professional willing to stand up for himself in order to further his education/career, a responsible father, and a hottie with a way better haircut. :)

As far as the actual cases...I thought the abortion issue was handled pretty well. You had characters on both sides of the debate, for varying reasons, and none of them were made out to be the villain. I did find it a little surprising that Violet so casually admitted to terminating two pregnancies, particularly since we already had a character who had an abortion. I've known of exactly one person even peripherally a part of my social circle who's had one. Maybe there have been others and I just don't know about it, but it almost seemed like overkill to have two out of the three women make that choice.

I didn't find the case where Violet's patient killed his wife particularly interesting, but I did appreciate the fact that it allowed someone other than Addison to interact with Kevin (who is still hot). I also like Violet's new elevator buddy.

I'm kind of over Cooper/Charlotte. They were enjoyable for a while, but I'd honestly rather focus on the tentative friendship between her and Addison.

I really do think that GA has experienced a resurgence this season, regardless of Dead Denny. I love, love, love that Cristina chose Alex to do the solo surgery. Meredith really hasn't been bothering me lately, but I hated her assumption that the only reason Cristina didn't choose her is because she was mad. Alex was the only one who bothered to talk about how he was specifically prepared for the surgery.

Alex also completely broke my heart when he confessed his love to Izzie. I love me some JDM, and I still find Denny funny and charming, but now I kinda want him gone just so Alex has the chance to be happy.

Cristina/Owen still rocks. I love that he went out of his way to comfort her, and managed to make her laugh before the totally hot making out commenced.

I've been on the Mark/Lexie train for a while, so I was not displeased by their, um, lesson. :) I'm so glad Mark is getting more to do this season. And how awesome was it when Bailey praised him for his surgical skills? Everyone seems to forget he's an excellent doctor.

I don't care if Monday's blue

2008-12-02T18:05:20Z

Is it bad that I'm totally ready for the TV doldrums known as December? I need a break, people. In the meantime, though, some notes on Monday night...

I still find Gossip Girl entertaining, but much like The O.C. before it, Josh Schwartz has created a lead couple (or non-couple, as the case may be) that is simultaneously boring and annoying. I have to confess, the highlight of the episode for me came at the beginning, when Blair was going through her list of potential suitors. I felt all sorts of pop-culture savvy when I immediately realized they were all character names from the John Hughes Brat Pack movies.

Chuck/Blair continue to be entertaining, and the greater prominence of Dorota around the devilish duo is delightful. :) Frankly, Chuck's limo does not seem like equivalent stakes for the fabulous Dorota. She joined Facebook! HA!

No surprise, of course, that Chuck and Blair selected their Versions 2.0 for each other. I know people want them to just get together already, but I just can't picture them happy and schmoopy with each other. It's sort of like Barney/Robin--I'm more invested in the idea of 'someday' than in actually wanting them right now.

But sequins, Chuck? Really?

Meanwhile, over in the Land of I Just Don't Care, we have Dan and Serena. And Aaron. And Lexi. Oh, and Blake's boobs, which should really have their own screen credit, given how much we've seen of them this season.

So here's the thing. Dan and Serena, as a couple, are boring. Dan and Serena, as 'friends,' are...also boring. To this most un-dynamic duo, the writers have added Aaron, who is basically...Dan-lite. Sure, he's a photographer instead of a writer, and he's all 'artistic ladies man' instead of a fumbling virgin. But he's basically the same guy, only with less-pronounced cheekbones and even worse hair. He's not hot, and he, too, is BORING.

Then, just to make the sucking void of awful even more so, the writers introduce Aaron's ex, Lexi. She's one of those characters that's 'witty' only in the writer's head, and who would send most people running in the opposite direction. Inexplicably, only Serena seems to pick up on this.

So there are these four characters, and some stuff happens, and the only thing I really remember is that Blake Lively always seems to be half an inch from a wardrobe malfunction.

And then there are the triangles. I'm a Rufus/Lily girl, but even they aren't really doing it for me. How many times has Lily been married? She's approaching Liz Taylor territory. I did love Rufus's little speech, but part of me thinks he deserves a real love interest, who lasts more than an episode, just so Lily sees how it feels. (Yeah, he was married. That's so last season.) Also, I hated Lily's dress at the Snowflake Ball.

Speaking of dresses...I am so not a Little J fan. If she's so bored, why doesn't she go back to school? In this world of teenagers HOME SCHOOLING THEMSELVES, I'm sure catching up on the missed work would be no problem.

I'm glad Nate chose Vanessa, mostly because it meant he didn't choose Little J and her Eyeliner of Doom. The backlit dress was stupid and juvenile, and not worth the plot time. And was Little J's comment at the end about spending more time on the UES supposed to imply she's going back to school? 'Cause I still don't care.

Meanwhile, I'm so over Heroes that I have no idea why I'm still watching. Seth Green and Breckin Meyer were the only redeeming aspects this week, and they're guest stars. Every sixth episode feels like a giant do-over. There's no continuity. There's no plot progression. No one ever dies (except recurring characters that I actually like). The integration of storylines is practically nonexistent--it's like four separate shows that happen to share an hour.

So why can't I stop watching?

Also, if you have not already done so, please feel free to request a fic for my 12 Days of Crossovers Fic Challenge!

Yay inside jokes!

2008-12-02T02:04:18Z

Does anyone happen to have a screencap of Blair's list of potential suitors? I caught Keith Nelson (Eric Stoltz in Some Kind of Wonderful) and Andy Clark (Emilio Estevez in The Breakfast Club), but I was wondering if there were any more John Hughes references? I was only half-watching at the time.

ETA: Found an upload of the ep, and name #3 on the list was Blane McDonnagh, AKA Andrew McCarthy from Pretty in Pink. BWAH. What, no Jake Ryan?

12 Days of Crossovers Fic Challenge

2008-12-01T23:15:42Z

Can someone please explain to me how it got to be December already? I don't think I'm down with having Thanksgiving so late.

Anyway, the point of this post is to issue another holiday fic challenge for myself (because Yuletide isn't stressful enough, apparently?). Last year I had the 12 Days of Veronica, which was a lot of fun. As much as I'd love to pair up our girl with any assortment of hot men, this year I've decided to change things up a little.

So, without further ado, I present the 12 Days of Crossovers.

The rules of the game...

1) Provide me with one pairing featuring characters from two different shows/fandoms. All potential romantic pairing must be het. If you would like gen or friendship fics featuring two characters of the same gender, that's also kosher, just specify it as such. If you're requesting a fic, you probably know a little about me, so please keep the requests appropriate. This is not the time to play 'stump the author' or 'let's make Gracie write Logan Echolls fic.'

2) Provide a 'number of something' prompt along with your pairing, in keeping with the '12 Days' theme. It does not have to be related to the original song (because who really wants to write about a bunch of birds?); the wackier and more fun the better. Please check which numbers have been claimed so far before adding yours to the list. Obviously, please only use numbers 1 through 12. If you are interested in giving me choices (which is awesome, BTW), please use the same number in the prompts (Ex.: Veronica Mars/Sam Winchester, 3 deadly weapons OR Rory Gilmore/Peter Petrelli, 3 hour flight delay).

3) Shows for which I have written fic include: Alias, Bones, Everwood, Firefly, Friday Night Lights, Gilmore Girls, Gossip Girl, Greek, Grey's Anatomy, Heroes, The O.C., Private Practice, Supernatural, and Veronica Mars. Shows I currently watch but have never ficced for, such as NCIS, are fair game, but I make no guarantee as to quality. :)

4) At this time, each requester will only be promised one fic. If all twelve slots are not filled after an undetermined, arbitrary amount of time, I will open things up to second requests.

Fire away!

ETA requested pairings/prompts:
1. Julie Taylor (Friday Night Lights)/Chuck Bass (Gossip Girl), one St. Jude's tie [requested by leobrat]
2. Brooke Davis (One Tree Hill)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural), two exorcisms that just didn't take [requested by monimala]
3. Tim Riggins (Friday Night Lights)/Veronica Mars (Veronica Mars), three broken laws [requested by mrs_boyscout]
4. Abby Sciuto (NCIS)/Angela Montenegro (Bones), four shots taken in a game of 'I Never' [requested by monimala]
5. Dean Winchester (Supernatural)/Taylor Townsend (The O.C.), five rules [requested by halfway2home]
6. Cappie (Greek)/Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie (Veronica Mars), six days of spring break [requested by fireflower314]
7. Casey Cartwright(Greek)/Ryan Atwood (The OC), seven minutes in heaven [requested by inkstainedskin]
8. Charlie Crews (Life)/Veronica Mars (Veronica Mars), eight hollow point bullet slugs [requested by monimala]
9. Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls)/Blair Waldorf (Gossip Girl), nine New York moments [requested by inkstainedskin]
10. Dan Humphrey (Gossip Girl)/Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls), ten English Classes [requested by featherweight]
11. Coach Eric Taylor (Friday Night Lights)/Bright Abbott (Everwood), eleven broken tail lights [requested by a_h_c]
12. Michael Vaughn (Alias)/Mark Sloan (Grey's Anatomy), twelve hidden secrets [requested by thewaughnman]

Counting the days in ketchup

2008-11-27T02:58:58Z

Another Tuesday, another enjoyable episode of NCIS. I'm satisfied with the resolution of this particular story arc, but I'm still a little bummed by what seems like a lack of Gibbs/Abby interaction. (My kingdom for a cheek kiss!...if I had a kingdom.)

So apparently, Agent Lee isn't quite as evil as I was willing to believe. She really did seem to be doing all of it for her 'daughter,' even if that still doesn't justify killing Langer. I did appreciate the fact that Gibbs told her that she should have come to him when it all started, since that's what I said last week.

Vance is growing on me. He's kind of a hardass, but not in an inappropriate way, given his position. The scenes with Abby were amusing, since I'd imagine that's how most people would react to her antics.

Not as much in the way of Tony/Ziva-ness this week, although he did keep staring at her in the end. I thought it was interesting that she appeared affected by the situation with Amanda. I also hope that the reference to Jeanne--albeit not by name--doesn't indicate an impending reappearance by that annoying waste of screentime.

Overall, the mole storyline was okay (certainly better than the interminable La Grenouille plot), but now I'm ready to get back to the normal stand-alone eps. (What does it say about me that my least favorite X-Files eps were the ones heavy on the alien mythology?)

In non-TV news, tomorrow is, of course, (American) Thanksgiving. I ever-so-foolishly volunteered to host this year, so it will be dinner for nine at the Gracie abode. I've cooked for more many a time, but there's something daunting about a turkey. Perhaps it's a tendency for it to taste like sawdust if even slightly overcooked?

Anyway, I hope that everyone who celebrates has a wonderful holiday. And remember, only 29 days until Christmas!

In Which Gracie Is Still Pissy

2008-11-23T15:30:43Z

Reason #687,412 why TWoP is pretentious and stupid:

(from TWoP 10: Reasons Why NCIS Is Suddenly Huge)

We tend to ignore this military formulaic cop/crime show, and so does everyone else in the critical world. The only time it comes up is when we annually wonder how it is still on. However, people are watching it. And lots of them. It had a record high last week. And we don't even know anyone who regularly tunes in. But somehow there are 18 million people who like this show. We examine a few of the possible reasons why the show has had such a sudden surge in viewers.

And later in the piece, reason #483,967 why TWoP has its head stuck up its collective ass, where snarky and bitchy trumps common sense and reality.

10. It's kinda not a bad show
Maybe it's a little too procedural (but then so is House) and maybe the team is a little quirky (but so is Bones) and maybe there's already so many crime scene dramas on (all the CSIs), but somehow it all kind of works together. It's got a good cast, is pretty well-written and just does its thing. Yay for consistency. There's way worse programming to be watching on TV. Trust us. It may face some trouble when Idol comes back, but until then let it have its moment in the sun.

Hey, TWoP? News flash. NCIS has been going up against AI for years. It does just fine. Does it beat the reality show juggernaut? Nope. But it has consistent, solid ratings...which is partly why it has survived to a SIXTH SEASON. Morons.

*sigh* I think I might have PMS. :)

Rantiness

2008-11-21T22:34:13Z

Oh, fandom, never change. There is apparently much gnashing of teeth and rending of garments over the fact that Pushing Daisies, Eli Stone, and Dirty Sexy Money have been cancelled. People are wailing about the fact that 'quality' shows always get canceled, while crap stays on the air for years on end. They're insisting that they won't watch a new show on ABC, because it's a network that might cancel shows out from under them (as opposed to a network that airs shows FOREVER, because that's what all the networks aside from ABC do...at least until Dollhouse gets canceled, after which we will get to hear about the evils of FOX re: Joss Whedon). To which I say... Wake up and smell reality, folks.

Yes, it's very sad when shows that we love are canceled. It's hard to let go when we make emotional investments in characters. Even though it was a shadow of its S1 glory, it was difficult to say goodbye to Veronica Mars. And I'm still not entirely clear on why Everwood had to end, when its rating were pretty solid for a WB show. But that's the nature of the business, and we were lucky to get three and four seasons of those shows.

Networks don't air shows as a philanthropy, folks. It's a business...a big business. And while it's lovely when they buck the trend and find a way to keep a quality show on the air despite abysmal ratings (such as in the case of Friday Night Lights), to expect that courtesy for every struggling show is naive and disingenuous. We all work for a living...do you do it for free because it's the 'right' thing to do? I'm guessing no.

And for the love of God, stop insulting the viewers who were too 'stupid' not to watch your beloved Pushing Daisies. Yes, it was unique, and blah-de-blah-blah. But it wasn't for everyone. I gave it a chance, watching several episodes in the first season, and it just didn't do it for me. Too much over-the-top, cutesy-for-the-sake-of-cutesy-ness. Plus Chuck made me want to throw things. But I digress. While I watch any number of procedurals, I have also been a staunch fan of critical darlings such as VM, FNL, and Arrested Development. I was even one of the 37 people who watched Firefly during its original run. Having different taste doesn't make me stupid. And given that PD premiered to pretty good numbers and has been hemorrhaging viewers ever since, I'm clearly not the only one who felt this way.

So go ahead, mourn your show. And no one's going to stop you if you decide to 'boycott' a network, but to me that seems like cutting off your nose to spite your face. "My show got canceled because people didn't watch it, so I refuse to watch any NEW quality shows, because they might get canceled." Um, yeah, they will, particularly if people don't watch. In the meantime, I will sit back and laugh, because I'm a horrible, mean person.

NCIS love

2008-11-21T01:42:51Z

Oh, NCIS, I heart you. It kind of cracks me up that the show is in its 6th season, but is climbing in the ratings, and all of a sudden the media is paying attention to it. Where have you people been? It's always been a good show, with a solid cast, and a lot more 'heart' than most procedurals.

This week was a particularly enjoyable episode. The fact that Agent Lee is a mole--something the audience has known since the season premiere--is intriguing on its own. What really makes it all click for me, though, are the interpersonal relationships. Unlike CSI, where too often the attempts to give the characters personal history comes across as awkward, ham-handed, and/or 'very special episode'-esque, NCIS has generally been a bit more deft in making their characters more like a family. That was quite evident last night. The anger and betrayal clearly felt by Ducky and Tony when Gibbs left them out of the loop was genuine, because the trust and even affection between the characters is long established. I also loved the fact that Abby was in the loop early on, because of course Gibbs would go to his favorite. :) (But seriously, how could the team not know she was in on it when Gibbs didn't go absolutely batshit when she was taken into custody? Come on.) Even though McGee is probably my least favorite member of the team, the friendship between him and Abby is sweet, and I loved his concern for her. Plus even he knows that Abbs would never betray NCIS because it would mean betraying Gibbs.

And of course, there was the giant sexual-tension-shaped elephant crowding the scene during nearly every Tony/Ziva interaction. The moment in the closet, when they seemed to become aware of each other. The intensity on their faces when he released her from the handcuffs. And of course, the off-the-charts exchange in the elevator, when she all but admitted that she basically snapped because Tony was hurt. Guh. I kept expecting one of them to hit the e-stop and start making out. And the 'I'm tired of pretending' bit? Very interesting.

As far as the whole twist of Lee supposedly having a daughter, I was spoiled for that, so whatever. My sympathy is limited, however, since 1) it might not be true, 2) she KILLED Langer, and 3) if it is true, she should have known the obvious solution was 'go to Gibbs for help.' Duh. also, how long have they been holding her supposed daughter hostage? Quite a bit of time has passed since the season began. Not to mention the fact that Vance put her on the team in May because she was under suspicion. Six months would be an awfully long time for no one to notice a little girl was missing.

On the other hand, I LOVED Gibbs lurking in the back seat. Guess he went back to that bar to get Langer's i.d. off the wall?

Very much looking forward to next week...but I need some Gibbs/Abby cuteness, stat!