[sticky post]Fu's Master Fic List
Hostage J2
J2 Fics on LiveJournal
I am also on Archive of our Own here!

Please do not re-post any of my fic, comments, or anything else from this archive to another website, including Twitter, Facebook or other social networking sites. Especially do not post recs or summaries of my work to GoodReads or any similar site. The stories are not meant to represent real people, only the characters they play. That idea is frequently misapprehended and doesn't translate well outside fandom. Fandom works should stay in fandom. Reccing a story within the confines of LJ, Tumblr, DW, or AO3 fandom is fine, but I prefer to not have summaries of my writing with RPS characters up on any site for critical review. It isn't fair to the actors and it's completely out of the context of fandom for which it was written.

NOTE: I retain ownership of all stories posted here and on AO3 under the same user name.
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RIP Bill Paxton
one candle flame
morgan earp

"Remember what I said about people seein' a bright light before they die? It ain't true. I can't see a damn thing."

hudson aliens

"Game over, man, game over!"

12.13 spoiler
spoilerCollapse )
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Where'd I put it..?
In the interest of being able to find it again, I'm moving this here, from a comm discussing how Mary isn't being written.

She couldn't see resemblance in this tall person before her to anyone in her family, or John's, that she remembered. John's dimples, of course, a hint of the cleft in her own jaw, the long arm and leg bones they shared. But he was a stranger, and no matter how mild and meek he tried to seem, an air of danger radiated off him. On the street, her instinct would have been to avoid him.

But, even though her heart found no connection, her brain acknowledged this was her son, the infant she'd held in her arms mere days, weeks ago. And she could read on that face a lifetime of pain and effort and sacrifice--John's journal had informed her of some of it. Castiel had shared even more--things she couldn't bear to think of happening to that baby boy.

It hurt to look at him and know she hadn't been there to protect him, not only from the bad things most folks don't know about, but from the ordinary hurts of life, and yes, even the implacable standards and strictures his father had forced him to live by.

She could feel the residue of all that pain and hardship, but what was worse was that he seemed to have accepted it, to carry all of it with a weary air of having earned it, deserved it. And that hurt worst of all. It scared her to face her failure to have done the least thing to protect her child, in fact to have been the agent who brought it all on him. A weight of guilt so enormous she couldn't stand being in the room with it, or with him, or with her other son, who had suffered equally, and at her hands.

But in those scarce moments when she was able to step away from that burden of guilt, and to lay aside her mourning for the young family she had lost, she could look at Sam and see someone robbed, not only of childhood, but of being treasured, his accomplishments delighted in, of a supporting parent, of a mother's love. And in those moments, she acknowledged their kinship, and made the first tentative effort to reach out to him.

...as I said, wishful thinking.
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a little birdie told me...
three flames
today is sophiap 's birthday.

Happy Birthday!
many happy returns!

tea party birthday cake

red umbrella snow
Everybody knows, right? that Dean was quoting Strother Martin in Cool Hand Luke?

(I can't get the vid to embed, so you get a link)

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eddy and flow
red umbrella snow
Between depression, illness, and bad weather, I hadn't left the house since last week. So yesterday OH and I went for a drive down the cliff face. All the freshets and seasonal creeks and falls are running white.

We headed out to the island to see if the snow geese had arrived yet, and as we were driving across flat farmland, we saw a small flock at about two o'clock. Another minute, and a larger flock flew over us, from our ten o'clock to four, to join with the first flock. As we watched, they eddied together, the whole flock rising and dipping, each individual changing direction and pitch with but a single thought, like schooling fish, or the murmuration of starlings. What organic mechanism enables these school/flock behaviors? So unlike our earthbound mammalian experience--to be airborne or waterborne and part of a larger whole, what must that feel like? We watched for several minutes before they settled in a faraway field to feed.

Swans are here, too, trumpeters and tundra swans, spread like patchy fluffernutter over muddy ground, their necks and breasts and feet streaked with snowmelt-soggy soil. We rarely get to see the storybook convention of swans gliding serenely on water, apparently propelled by mind control, their paddling feet hidden beneath the surface. They feed and breed here. We never see cygnets, only the grey-speckled yearlings hatched in their summer grounds and accompanying their parents back to overwinter here.

Leafless winter trees make good visibility for eagle-spotting. Dozens of bald eagles line rivers and lake edges, sharp eyes seeking spawning salmon. We passed one fellow who had his eye on red meat, mouse or vole, some field dweller, as he perched not six feet above the ground in a roadside tree overlooking a fallow field.

And the blue skies and bright sun we'd set out in had succumbed to scudding grey cloud before we headed home.

Making the rounds of my flist at the moment
red umbrella snow
Another 'me' meme

Describe a scent that you love or loathe
Love - cut grass, wood shavings, steeped and scraped vanilla bean, coffee
Loathe - hyacinths, indoors. Outdoors, okay, but indoors they suffocate me
Describe a visual experience that dazzled you
Talking with a friend, and we stepped outside in the sun. I turned to look at her and saw her aura: she was outlined in cobalt blue sort of pulsing off her, and outside of that was a vivid pink streaming around her in an unbroken current. Never happened before, nor again, and that day had no particular import.
Describe an acquired or unusual taste
Fernet. Tastes like incense smells
Describe a sound that frightens or comforts you
Frightens me - windstorms rattling the house
Comforts me - cat purrs
Describe a sensation that is arousing or creepy
Arousing? music--unpredictably, either classical or movie soundtrack or folk
Creepy sensations - when you don't notice it's gotten dark and the windows are uncovered, and anything could be looking in at you, unseen. Ditto cracked doors--wide open or closed, please. Nothing peeping!

Happy Birthday, Milly_gal!
three flames
I am so late posting this, but I'd forgotten I had blood work first thing this morning. But I'm back now, and want to wish an incredibly special and wonderful woman an equally special and wonderful birthday! You inspire me, you make me laugh, you poke my turtle shell when I'm not feeling social, and make me want to be active in fandom again. You're a gorgeous, generous, bawdy, loving, and wonderful person and my life is so much brighter with you in it--I wish you ALL the birthday joys, hon!

sparkler birthday cupcake

well, what had happened was...
red umbrella snow
These binder clipsare familiar, useful little beasties. We have them around the house in several sizes, and use them for closing the chips bag to minding electric cords, and more.

When I dropped the laptop on a corner and broke the hinge of the lid/screen, OH leapt into action with the binder clips and duct tape.

100_5576 sh100_5578 ed
100_5581  sh ed100_5582
He re-established and stabilized the connection between keyboard and screen, even pulled the corner of the frame tight enough it didn't do that little boiling effect in the very corner. Of course, this all required that the lid not move.

You see where this is going, right? Yep, night before last, I pushed down the lid to close it--felt and heard the hinge go and stopped before it was completely closed, but the damage was done. Time to laptop shop. Which is entirely a mixed blessing, because while the computer itself is still good--blazingly fast and tons of storage--in spite of multiple settings tweaks, the touchpad remains Secret Rocket J. Squirrel. I've gotten extremely tired of it randomly highlighting a paragraph or two and deleting it--surprise! Or kicking up the font size a notch or two, you know, whimsically, when it wants to. I'm sure it's actually pilot error and I'm hitting some secret button accidentally, but I haven't been able to find the freaking button and I'm really frelling tired of the cursor squirreling around on its own. So I won't be sad to see the back of that feature.

But because the computer is fairly new and still good, OH plans to hook it up to a monitor and mouse and just use it as a desktop. So I don't feel too guilty about breaking my shiny new-ish thing.


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