“I could have worked the irony of the story much better, but ah well…”


by RJ White

Fan fiction is a curious thing. On a podcast I host, we recently discussed it a bit and one of the panelists even related a story about the time he submitted an awful story based upon The Facts of Life to a site years ago and the rather earnest advice from the site’s editor. Yes, it was all kind of a joke, but these folks take it very seriously and seem to write these things for a few reasons-

1) Frustration that the creators of these characters “aren’t doing it right.”

2) Wanting to continue the adventures of, say, WKRP In Cincinnati, decades after the program’s cancellation.

3) Out of some odd sense of ownership/real affection for these fictional places and people.

It is this third one that we will concern ourselves with today. NewsRadio is one of the most underrated and underwatched sitcoms in recent history. It had a great ensemble cast, great characters and had no problem getting just flat-out bizarre at times. Watching it now, it seems a little improbable that it was on network television for five seasons [Note: The AV Club has a good collection of episode reviews and analyses. Also, Hulu has 60-odd episodes available for viewing online]. Now, a show as idiosyncratic as this, with a rather specific comedic voice, well- you’d think that any attempts by fans to try and capture that tone would seem a little, well, off. And guess what? You’d be very right.

Adventures at WNYX! » by Goldenrod Lockhart
Join the staff of WNYX as they go through chapters of misadventures you’d never see on the tv show.

Are You Lonesome Tonight? by Frogorn
Lisa is broken up when Dave breaks up with her. Sonific to Elvis’ Are You Lonesome Tonight. It is my first songfic so be nice. R&R

NEWSRADIO: Everybody Has AIDS » by Tharpdevenport
Under command of Jimmy James, from the high voulme of accidents, WNYX undergoes testing. Set after Phil Hartman’s death. But am thinking of doing the story again, but with Bill and Cathrine as an alternate take.

Matthew’s Beads by sfh204
Matthew gets some magic beads that drives Beth wild with passion. I’m sure I could have worked the irony of the story much better, but ah well…

Dave’s Final Goodbye by Frogorn
Dave passes on and everyone has to cope with their loss. Warning: This is just an oneshot, so it is short not really detailed in the whole grieving process. Please read & review!

But it is not all fun and games and hilarity and the like. No, there is also room for grieving. And where there is grieving, there is often poetry, as in this piece- dedicated not to the late Phil Hartman, but rather his character, Bill McNeil- titled simply, “Goodbye Bill.”

The wind blows in uneven gusts. It makes loud whirs as it hits against the window. Paper and other items left by the day’s travelers scoot along the sidewalk. People walk buily[sic] as if nothing were new. Children run down the sidewalk in a race on their way to school. Cars rush down the street; each on a separate destination. Everything is as it’s always been: normal. Life is as it always is in the City that Never Sleeps. All seems the same, but it isn’t.

I continue to stare out the window watching the world go by almost expecting something to change. Everything seems pointless at this time. Work seems trivial. Conversations seem superficial. What’s the point?

My friends try to reach me, but I dodge the subject. I just don’t know how to move on from here.

I’m constantly distracted. Everytime the door opens, I look up. I expect to see him. He’s going to show up any moment. That door will open and he’s going to enter, like always.

I’ve seen him around. He’s been on the street and in the coffee shop downstairs. I know I’ve seen or sensed him here; when I go to the coffee machine or to the break room. I feel like he’s right behind me.

He’s going to walk through that door. Then he will go to his desk and things will continue as normal.

I tell myself all of this and I really want to believe it, but I can’t. He is not going to show up. He’s not just late. I haven’t seen him on the street or at the coffee machine. He will never walk through that door again.

“P.S., the crow flies at midnight.”



Enough With the Dragons


by evilolive

It is a little disconcerting how much Eragon fanfiction there is, considering that the book itself is a horrific pastiche of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Is fanfiction based on this series even necessary?

A Fallen Shadow Ascends

Eragon stared. Murtagh was no longer the boy he had travelled to the Varden with, who he had fought a variety of creatures with, whose companionship he had cherished in times of great need. The man who he had duelled with, and lost to, on the Burning Plains had grown ever stronger and greater.

“Murtagh, you cannot be my brother.”

He laughed, not a cackle like Galbatorix, but a deep, rich and wholesome laugh.

“What, Rider? Am I not good enough to be of your blood?”

Eragon sighed, shrinking into the corner.

“You’re never too good for me.” he blurted out, his eyes on Murtagh’s impressive bulge in his trousers.

Murtagh raised his eyebrows. “Eyes up here. I have orders for you. The king requested you in his room. We’re leaving, brother.”

Out of this World

I shot out of bed and landed on the carpeted floor. ‘Wow, what a nightmare’.

I snatched a glance at the digital alarm clock. 4:30 a.m., it read. Feeling thirsty, I began walking to the kitchen. But before that, I am Danny. Daniel Phoenix to be exact. However, I never knew that I would be going on a strange journey. Anyway, I walked down the stairs and grabbed a mug from the counter. I placed the mug under the dispenser and filled it up halfway. After a big gulp, I placed it back on the counter, too lazy to wash it. Vlad will clean it in the morning anyway. One word though, I’m an only child and my father is a thermonuclear physicist (whatever the heck that means), working in a top-secret government facility while my mother runs Promedia Inc., a company that deals with artists, movies, that kind of stuff.



Poor innocent little Brainy had no idea how badly the two Superman’s wanted him. How much they loathed their tight outfits because of him, how they tossed and turned in bed at night because he wasn’t in there with them.


by evilolive


Desire

“Thank you Superman,” Brainy said looking up at his blue eyed hero.

Superman smiled down at Brainy, glad that he was able to save him in time, and that he could hold Brainy in his arms. He loved the feeling of being near him and holding him. Clark remembered when he saved a woman in the 21st century they would give him a kiss. He wished that Brainy would do that too.

Glaring down at the two, Superman X wished that Superman would stop holding Brainy so close.

“What are you going to do with the snake,” Lighting Lad asked, interrupting Superman X angry thoughts.


LoSH Doujinshi

“So, tell us your name and your superpowers.” said Cosmic Boy.

“My name is Mariah LeClaire,” she said, bowing politely, “and…uh…well…I don’t really know what my superpowers are.”

“You, don’t know what your powers are?” asked Lightning Lad, raising an eyebrow. Mariah shook her head in the negative.

“Well sorry, but if you don’t have any powers I’m afraid we ca-…”

Lightning Lad was interrupted by a very enthusiastic looking Chameleon Boy who, at that very moment, leapt towards Mariah, transforming into a huge beastly looking dog. Mariah gasped and, having no time to dodge, raised her hands up to offer some protection from the attack. After realizing a few seconds later that there was no impact, Mariah looked up.

“Whoa!” was the only sound she could utter. Without knowing it she had put up a force field. It glowed green with energy. Chameleon Boy growled and struck the force field a few times, with no luck. He pulled back as Mariah’s force field had faltered and disappeared. He took this opportunity to transform into a colossal snake. Hissing, he lunged after Mariah once more, ready to sink his fangs into her body. She shot her forward in desperation. Suddenly black sparks flew out of her hand encircling Chameleon Boy and forcing him to switch back to his original form. Everybody in the tribunal stood up, marveling Mariah’s apparently newfound powers.


Letters and Photographs

“B-but Brainy, we need you. I mean, where will you go? And whom can you turn to when you need help? W-will we ever see you again,” she whimpered. Brainy sighed, putting his other bag down, and held her in his arms. He was hurting her again. She had become his best friend and had stuck with him through thick and thin, even when she had lost her memory, she was there. She flung her arms around him and cried into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Vi. I-I’m sorry. It’s just the way things are,” he whispered, his hand stroking her black hair. She leaned upward to kiss his cheek. As her lips came in contact with his warm cheek, he remembered when that first mission that they were on together. He didn’t really like her at first. She was ignorant and so naïve. And he thought that her powers were useless. But yet, she proved him wrong after saving him from the destructo-bot that was holding him down with its hand. She then earns more respect from him after she had assisted him with Lightning lad’s surgery. And she did so much more for him.

She accompanied him to the spaceport and gave him one last hug before watching him aboard the star ship.

“I’ll miss you, Brainy,” she quietly said as she saw him wave goodbye to her from his window.

Ritual

“Well…all right. I’ll give it a try. Just because you’re my sister, and I love you.” Nura breathed deep, composed herself, and concentrated.

After a moment, her eyes flew open in shock. “Mysa, I saw…you and Dirk, making love!”

If it were possible, Mysa grew even paler than usual. “But…that isn’t…I’ve never…”

“What?” Nura stared at her sister, astonished. “Never?!”

“Some of us spent our lifetimes in study, Nura, not chasing the pleasure of flesh!” Mysa snapped, her shrill tone revealing her consternation.



La la la la la la la la la Katamari Fanfiction!


by evilolive

Proof that the fanfictioneers will use almost anything to inspire their creations, I bring you Katamari Fanfiction:

Hard Boiled Katamari and the End of the World:

Johnson picked up on it before I did, and I’m supposed to be the smart one. Was supposed to be the smart one. He just looked at me, with those eyes, the eyes of someone who’s seen their fate and knows how it’s going to end up. You see that a lot nowdays. He told me, “Tell Mari I love her.” and took out his gun, that silly little pistol. He’d never fired it before. He once told me, late at night, how he had once had to aim it at someone, and it had given him nightmares for a week.

He fired it now. And I swear that thing turned to face him, like a bull to a red flag. He kept firing, unloading all his bullets. Didn’t even make a scratch. Then it was on him and I saw the life crushed out of him under that thing, the lump of everything mankind had made, now turned against us.

I ran.


Why Tycho Quit Drinking

The King of All Cosmos stumbles home in the dark. It really is quite dark out, much darker than it should be. It’s a tad distressing, really, just how dark it is, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. Because his fingers are very, very big, and he is very, very drunk.

It had been a fantastic night out on the Universe. First, there was open mike night at the local bar. He’d strummed his guitar, composed a trio of adorable haiku, found a word that rhymed with orange, and then finished it all off with a rousing Tom Jones medley. The crowd went wild and he graciously blew kisses to his swooning fans, autographing whatever was handy — napkins, things you wear on your head, children.

Keeper Of The Bud

The small Prince walked up to his father, The King Of The Cosmos and craned his neck to look up. “Oh tiny Prince, I have a job for you.” He said. “More stars giant father with the big bulge?” The Prince asked. “No. I’m sending you to Earth to roll up…DRUGS!” He boomed.



There had been a rain, not a very long one, but it was still a rain.


by evilolive

Behold, the horrors of Elfquest Fanfiction:

The Silent One

In the evening, Skywise saw Dilah returning from the gardens. He followed her to a tiny hut at the edge of the village. A white cat leaped from the windowsill and leaned against Dilah’s legs. She stopped to fondle it. Skywise knelt down, seemingly to pat the cat, but he let his hand touch Dilah’s. The female elf picked up the cat and snarled at him in a way that had become all too familiar. Skywise remained kneeling and looked up into her eyes with his eyes full of pleading, like a wolf puppy trying to convince its elf-friend that it is completely innocent of everything, especially chewing that new bow to splinters.

Dilah took hold of his hand and hoisted him up with surprising strength, then pressed him against the wall of her hut, and only then did she free her other hand by putting the cat on the windowsill. Skywise felt something cold touch his neck – the blade of Dilah’s knife. The girl was mad! Absolutely mad. And he was mad himself for getting interested in her. Finally she was pressing against his body, but not in the way he had dreamed of.

And then, suddenly, without moving the knife, she kissed him.


Mud Fight and Curious Hearts

Quill gave a little gasp and a growl as mud was flung in her face. There had been a rain, not a very long one, but it was still a rain. She and Darksun had found themselves walking out in the mud, then, feeling it between their toes. It was then that Darksun had jumped hard into a mud puddle and splashed Quill with mud. Now the two were covered head to toe in the stuff, having thrown much of it at each other. Even though they were quickly approaching the golden maturity of Adulthood, they still loved to play with each other. Darksun was a mere three years older than Quill, and though many maidens had sought his company in the furs recently, he wasn’t interested in any of them.

Darksun’s thoughts had turned to Quill. He noticed lately that she had begun to mature just as he. At sixteen turns, Quill had filled her body out quite nicely. The curve of her stomach, the swell of her breasts…All of it was appealing to Darksun’s eyes. And it was this that now distracted him when Quill tackled him into the mud.

Forgiveness

Aiyla smiled as she entered the restaurant Mark had chosen. It was one of the very few places she could get her food the way she enjoyed it. She sat down, looking around, then decided that it couldn’t hurt to get an appetizer for herself. She had not eaten, after all, since yesterday afternoon. She finally caught a waiter, and told him what she wanted, then sat back to wait. It was not long before she saw Mark’s handsome face in the doorway.

For a human, there was something awfully elfish about him. He was tall, and reminded her of some of the stories of the High Ones. There was an unconcious grace to him, and a cheerful nature that made her more than a little suspicious about his intentions. But he had never treated her with anything other than the utmost courtesy, and she tried to return the favor tenfold. All of her stories were sent in on-time or ahead of schedule. She never needed an editor. She agreed to appear at book signings from time to time, though that really held very little interest for her. And she was never truly angry with him. That was a feat for her by itself. Since leaving Rayek behind, it was difficult for her not to be angry with people, humans and elves alike. There was nowhere for the anger to turn, so it went outward, until she had driven away all but the closest of her friends. And now, she didn’t know if they were there.

She looked behind Mark, but saw no one. A sigh escaped her, and she waited for him to approach. “Mark,” she said, standing slightly until he sat. He grinned, his smile reaching her face, and bringing forth an answering smile. And for the billionth time she wondered why Rayek couldn’t have been more like Mark. Stuck as she was on her reverie, she didn’t really hear Mark’s words, and she didn’t see the woman approaching her. But that reverie ended when Aiyla heard her elven name spoken. “Shadowwalker, it’s good to see you again.”

Ringspell, Wolfcall

“What was that?!” one voice asked, as its owner turned his fear-filled gaze onto his peer, who stood shakily before them.

“I don’t know, Pip. And I hope we don’t find out. Are you two all right? I’m sorry if we frightened you by grabbing you like that.” A weary-looking youth said, apologetically.

“Think nothing of it. It is most likely that you saved our lives just now. I am Cutter, and this is my tribesman and friend, Skywise. We have traveled far, but have never met folk like you before.” Cutter said, honestly.

“Nor have we met elves like you. My name is Frodo Ba—er—Underhill, and these are my traveling companions, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc, or Merry, Brandybuck and Peregrin-Pippin-Took. We’re going to Bree to meet a friend. Would you like to come along with us?” the weary one asked, as the one called Samwise looked hopefully at them.

Across Two Worlds

“First?” Cutter asks, but already Leetah drifts away from him. It is a simple thing for a healer to do, to put himself or herself into a trance, and she does it now without thinking, letting her body writhe and scream as her spirit drifts free.

In the cool darkness of the spirit world, there is no pain and her thoughts are not constricted with the pettiness of suffering. As she drifts, she reminds herself that she loves Tam because of his wolf blood, not in spite of it. He is her anchor, her tie to this world. She, who was once so removed from physical sensation, who shielded herself from any kind of pain, now feels as he does. She reminds herself that it is his biggest gift to her.

And then she is not alone. The mind that brushes her is uncertain, untrained, pushed into a trance by a pain so deep Leetah can barely comprehend it. What-whowereohpainohpleasesomeone…help me…my soul, my other half, Anakin, Anakin, please, why-why-why, not yet, don’t leave me please someone healkillhelpsave me…



Butchering the Classics Round 2: Poor, Poor D’Artagnan


by evilolive

Perhaps as a way to demonstrate hatred of the French, fan fiction authors explore the works of Alexandre Dumas

The Gay Musketeers

D’Artagnan struggled to get up, only to have Athos gently push him down. “Ah, a lovers argument I fear. My partner and I were travelling from Paris to Gascony and we had a slight tiff regarding some small issue. One thing led to another, and then we were crossing swords. I beat him to the ground and he looked up at me in horror. I could not bring myself to bring my sword down upon him. In an instant, he had struck me full in the shoulder and that was the last instant I remember until now”.

Athos sighed and nodded. “You have taken a man to your bed, D’Artagnan?”

D’Artagnan looked ashamed as he replied, a reddish hint infecting his cheeks “After my experiences with women, I think I will stick with what I know best. I thought I had found my ideal partner, obviously not”.

Athos busied himself with D’Artagnan’s bandage. “Nothing to be ashamed of, D’Artagnan. I understand completely”.

D’Artagnan looked at Athos coldly.

“Its true” Athos said softly “I myself have found greater comfort and love with a man in my bed instead of a woman. I understand completely”

D’Artagnan looked faintly surprised, then he smiled. “We have something in common, dear Athos”

Athos smiled and blushed a little.

“What a lucky incident it was for me to find you once more” D’Artagnan sighed. He coughed a little and Athos helped him to sit up and drink some cold water.

“Rest easy” Athos said softly. “I will stay by your side”.

D’Artnagnan smiled affectionately at Athos.

Athos blushed and turned away.

My Archangel

“Good… well, I think it’s morning.” Armand was pleased to see that Gabriel apparently didn’t regret his decision to sleep together. It’d always hurt Richelieu to find out that a warm and loving man at night became cold and disgusted at the break of dawn, seeing his nightly actions as sin and praying for forgiveness during the next mass. It was an immense relieve that Gabriel wasn’t one of them.

“A good morning to you too.” Armand chuckled. “Have you slept well?” Gabriel gave him a warm smile. “Yes, very well. Thanks for staying.” The cardinal snuggled up to the other man some more, gently stroking his injured, but strong chest. “It was my pleasure.” This time, the younger man chuckled. “Yes, I got that idea.” So Gabriel knew… and he didn’t mind… out of gratitude? Or did he feel the same? The strong arms still holding Armand and the hand that was absent-mindedly playing with his hair, indicated the last.

“Feeling better?” Richelieu hadn’t forgotten the state in which he’d found Gabriel. If he’d ever find out the names of those guards, he’d see to it that they were executioned straight away. How dared they hurt this beautiful man… this angel.

“Much better, thanks to you… Armand, was it?” The older man’s heart summersaulted. He’s remembered! Despite his weakened state, Gabriel had taken the effort of remembring his name! But was it everything the young man knew of him? Did he know of his status? Well, only one way to find out… “Yes, Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu. More commonly known as cardinal Richelieu.” He both anticipated and feared the other man’s reaction.


Make With Your Hands

The date is April the twentieth in the year one thousand six hundred and sixty two of our Lord. Dios todo misericordioso perdone todos nuestros pecados. Amen.

Athos has woken up earlier than usual today. He usually sleeps in for a while. An hour, maybe, a bit longer every day. He’s getting old. We’re all getting old. My neck aches as I rise from where I kneel at the foot of my bed. It must be around six in the morning. I pull my sleeping robes over my head, leave them in a pile on the floor.

As I pull on breeches, shirt, coat, lace it up as best as I can, grab my boots from behind the dresser door, I hear Athos moving around in the kitchen below. He’s got a fire going, the flames burning low. God bless his balding head. It’s freezing in this place. Porthos’ bedroom is silent behind his door as I pass on my way down. Philippe’s even, troubled breathing drifts out from behind his. I slow my pace as I walk past it.

From below, I can hear Athos battling down a hum. He stifles a yawn. I crack open the kitchen door and place the boots I have not pulled on yet on a stool. Athos looks up from his place at the cutting board as I come in. He’s smiling.

“Aramis,” he says. “Good morning. Are you aware that you have no green peppers?”

I pull out a chair, drop on it with a grunt, drag the stool with my boots on it closer. It takes a while to pull one on, the small of my back complaining from the strain. “No,” I say. “I was not aware. What are you making, and why does it need green peppers?

I hear him pause in his methodic slices at the carrots I brought in last night. He opens his mouth, takes in a little air, presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth, holds it there. I start to pull on the second boot.

“It’s an old recipe,” he says at length. “My mother used to make it.”

The boot slides in after a few, hearty tugs, my back groaning and shooting thin needles of pain down my arms and chest. I give Athos a long, silent look when I straighten up. He slices away at the carrots, pushing them off the edge of the table and into a bowl placed below. It’s a while before he meets my gaze. God, he’s smiling like a child. He knows I hate peppers.

“I thought you’d like a change in the stew, for tonight. Not that you need worry. As I’ve pointed out, you have no peppers. “

Albert’s Adventure

Breathing heavily she pulled away and took his hands, “We can’t very well do this here. Let’s borrow one of the rooms.” Albert was only two steps behind her as she led him to a room on the second floor; she had a marvelous sway to her step. As they entered the room it was barely a second before Albert had closed the door and turned around before she had him pressed against the door and was kissing him. He immediately let her lead and it wasn’t soon before their tongues were exploring one another’s mouths. She was adept at this and he groaned loudly as her hand slid to his waist and then lower. She had her hand placed lightly over his growing erection and was kissing his face around his mask. She slowing removed his mask and took a moment to look at his features. As she was doing this Albert moved his hands to where her mask was held in place and slowly removed it as well. She was divine although she didn’t look exactly like the girl he had seen earlier in the week. He was about to say something when she put her finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin it, I was in the carriage, just not her, she belongs to another but I couldn’t let you down,” she slide her finger down from his lips to his bulging pants. Then she renewed her attentions to his face. His hands were roaming over her body and hers rose from his erection to his cravat. They started to undress each other; their impatience to feel the other’s skin growing.



Her eyes were aimed at the ceiling and Tony advantageously stared at their color and depth.


by evilolive

While the recent Iron Man movie gave the world a Robert Downey Jr who has regained his hotness, it also inspired plenty of fanfiction:

Monday, Monday

“Dr Doom does not schedule appointments!” says Dr Doom. “I demand to see Mr Stark at my convenience!”
Pepper tries to inject some semblance of civility into the conversation, knowing as she does so that her efforts will be in vain, that her life is now too ridiculous to be saved.
“I’m very sorry, Mr von Doom–”
“I am Dr Doom!”
”Dr Doom,” she says, with all the dignity she can muster. “But Mr Stark is not in the office at this time. He is a very busy man with a very full–”
“Pah!” says Dr Doom, his contempt audible through the static. “A paltry excuse befitting a man of such cowardice.”
He settles for the 5:30PM slot and hangs up with an ominous cry of, “Your assistance will not so quickly escape my memory, but so, too, shall Dr Doom remember your defiance. Good day, Miss Potts!”


Nothing Tylenol Won’t Fix

It was difficult, very bad to her nails, somewhat embarrassing, and, she had to admit to herself, also quite hot.

Hot? Goodness, where did that come from? She shook her head and returned her attention to the armored shoulder she was working on.

There was so little space that her face almost touched the armor, and her knees rested against his thigh. He was drenched in sweat, the armor dented and cracked, there was blood on him… She must be out of her mind to think there was anything “hot” in working on getting him out of the suit. Then again, he was doing his best to keep her distracted.

“That’s it, Pepper, yeah, just like that, a little more, come on… Yes!” he muttered, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel his breath.

Change of Heart

“Can I interest you in a dance, Ms. Scott?” Tony asked, turning his mahogany eyes back on Lilly.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I’ve heard stories about you. Some that give you an ill reputation concerning women,” Lilly responded smartly, immediately wincing inwardly as she hoped that comment didn’t sound as caustic as she thought it might. Despite her jangling nerves and her insistent inner yearning to dance, touch, do the unthinkable with this man, she was determined to keep poised and protect herself.

“Do you really believe everything people tell you? And please, call me Tony,” he said again, flashing another dazzling smile. Then before she knew what was happening, her drink was suddenly gone from her hand and Tony was leading her out onto the dance floor. A slow song was playing so Tony reached an ideal spot then turned and pulled her close to him, resting one hand primly on her waist, and offering her the other.

“I don’t bite, I promise,” Tony reassured when Lilly hesitated in taking his hand, even though the grin he was giving her suggested exactly the opposite. She glanced into his eyes, still unsure, but slowly placed one hand on his shoulder and her other hand neatly in his offered one. Once they assumed the position, they began to sway back and forth in time with the music, their bodies separated by a few inches that Lilly made sure was always maintained.

“So, Ms. Scott, what is it that you do?” Tony asked in a low voice. With his mouth placed right next to her ear, Lilly shivered ever so slightly at the warm breath of air his words sent past.

“I’m a neurosurgeon,” she answered plainly, readjusting her fingers in Tony’s hand. She felt Tony pull back and look at her oddly. She met his gaze and chuckled.


Yes, Virginia, There Really Is An Iron Man

Pepper didn’t dare breathe for almost a full minute until Tony shifted beside her and dragged his aching left hand down into her hair.

“You’re going to turn purple,” he commented.

Pepper breathed in through her nose. Mistake number one.

She was immediately submersed in Tony’s very masculine smell—motor oil, clean shampoo and aftershave.

He tightened his arm around her waist unconsciously as she tipped her head further into his palm. He couldn’t stop his eyes from dancing across her face—taking in every freckle and cataloging the details of her smooth skin in his mind. Her eyes were aimed at the ceiling and Tony advantageously stared at their color and depth.

For a brief moment, Pepper bravely looked Tony in the eye and what she saw there shocked her.

She had never seen him look at anyone like that before. Gone were the usual restraints he inflicted upon himself and all that was left was a complete warmth of total trust and admiration.

She really was all he had.

A New Ballgame

Tony froze.

Standing in the middle of his workshop, arms crossed over a broad chest, was a man. He wore a rough beard that lined his jaw, and his hair was dark, wild and beast-like. His features were chiseled and rugged, and he was clad all in leather. His black gaze flashed across the distance between them–a fierce and animal-like scowl.

Tony reacted. Reaching for a new piece of plate armor on the table–sharp and hard as granite–he grasped it in his hand and threw it as hard as he could at the intruder.

The man moved. But not to evade. He spread his stance and flung out his arms, his hands clenching to fists–

And three metal blades lanced out from each fist–each blade a foot long. With a bear-like swipe, the man lunged forward and slashed at the piece of armor–and cut through it as if it were butter.

He then dodged, and the pieces of armor clattered to the floor all around him. Silence fell.

A shudder ran all through Tony’s body, and his jaw tightened.

“Relax,” the man spoke in a deep voice, stretching his neck and relaxing his stance. “If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead hours ago.”

For once, Tony could think of nothing glib to say. He just stared at those wicked claws, until they retracted back into the man’s hands with a snap. Tony lifted his eyes and met the fearsome gaze.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“My friends call me Logan.” The man shrugged noncommittally. “But my fighting name is Wolverine.”



Butchering the Classics – Lord of the Flies and To Kill a Mockinbird


by evilolive

We’ve seen fan fiction take on Jane Austen and still more classic works of literature are not able to escape being used as fan fiction fodder.


Lord of the Flies: Fruition

Ralph’s eyes were wide with utter shock as they locked onto Jack’s. His fingers fumbled towards his lips, but he refused to touch them. He sat motionless on the warm ground, drawing in a shaky breath. Jack never broke away from Ralph’s gaze as he searched for Ralph’s thoughts that could usually be read clearly on his face. This time, however, he was indecipherable. ‘He knows now, doesn’t he?’ Jack thought, wiping away stray tears. He wanted to break the deafening silence, but chose not to in favor of allowing Ralph to recover. But the boy merely sat, not breaking away until just a moment later as his eyes trailed slowly to the floor. Ralph’s mind was astir with thoughts and emotions. ‘J-Jack…’ He could not bring himself to think coherently.

“You – you must know now.” Jack whispered, blushing madly but not caring enough to turn away as he usually did. “J-J…” Ralph was stupefied. Slowly Jack began, eager to reason with the boy. “This island is far different from the place we used to live in. Am I wrong?” Ralph sat silently, allowing his fingers to trail aimlessly on his lips. “This sort of thing…it might not have been accepted at home, b-but -” Now Jack was lost for words. Was this wrong? He looked for something simple, an easy way to offer an explanation. “I don’t – care if this might be wrong. I don’t know how this happened or what it means. I just know that I feel it…and it’s killing me.” Other tears slipped across his face, and Jack simply let them fall. Now Ralph knew, he finally knew.

Ralph looked up to him slowly, blushing now as well.


Lord of the Flies: Sinful Secrets

Jack slapped him harder this time. “You think you can stop me?!” He slapped him again. “Can you?! Huh?!”

Simon now remained helpless beneath his deadly dominator. He got kissed on the lips but refused to return the favour. Jack punched him hard in the stomach and grabbed his groin. Simon screamed in agony.

“I’m gonna hurt you Simon,” he sneered. “You wanna feel pain?”

“Jack please stop,” Simon sobbed. “I don’t want this.”

Once again, he felt another hot kiss purge his soft lips. A hand travelled down his chest and poked his navel. He really felt like crying, but he couldn’t. He wanted Roger so bad right now, but the more Jack consumed him the farther Roger would go in his mind. He had no other choice but to give in, for now.

He slipped his tongue in Jack’s mouth, allowing it to dance with the other’s. His hips bucked up and Jack was caught in a trance.

“Simon…” Jack moaned. “I’m not finished with you yet.”


To Kill a Mockingbird: The World From My Porch

As Dill was bedridden for the next few days, it was up to me to run errands generally be active for him. I brought him meals and read with him, even going to visit his editor.

By the end of the week, Dill had taught me how to drive adequately, with him sitting in the passenger seat and grabbing my hand on the clutch every time I made the car stall. I couldn’t honestly say I minded the physical attention, as our kiss was still fresh in my mind. Whenever I thought of Marcus, that horrified expression on his face, I felt a guilty pang. I blamed my sudden attachment to Dill on the excess of time I was spending with him, not on the fact that perhaps deciding who I liked more was a little easier than I had first imagined.

To Kill a Mockingbird: The Present

“I wanted to give you your present early, Atticus.” I said pushing my face up to my brothers after the rest of the family had left. The room was quiet a few moments after my statement.

Atticus took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning to look at my expectant face. He pushed up his glasses and smirked. “You know, I actually got you a real present, the kind you unwrap.”

“Oh, come on. You can unwrap your present.” I grinned and took off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, looking deviously into his eyes.

“That’s not funny, Jack.” He said sternly, blushing again and reaching for his glasses. I chuckled and bent over his body, straddling him with my arms. He grumbled and lay on his back, resting his arms on his chest.

“You know you like this. I know you desire me more than you wish to admit.” I laughed at his uneasiness and pressed my lips against his. His eyes fluttered and he relaxed, moving his lips with mine.



Seriously we need to start uping the skill requirements to be someone with power in this country.


by Sluggo, Agent of N.A.N.C.Y.

Okay, granted, the headline of this article, covering the legal conflict between Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling and the writer of an unauthorized encyclopedia on her work,is a bit on the provocative side (“Harry Potter storylines are gibberish, judge tells Rowling”), but it’s clear from the article itself what the judge meant. This commentator gets it right:

The headline here is VERY misleading if you read the judge’s actual quote. He said that the book was filled with names and words that WOULD BE gibberish ‘in any OTHER context.’ That is a very factual and simple statement which doesn’t imply ANYTHING about the storyline. I don’t care one way or the other about Harry Potter, but I’m an ex-journalist who hates to see the facts so badly misrepresented.

Of course, why let “reading the article” or “a moment’s worth of thought” get in the way of “knee-jerk reaction?”

Seem the judge isn’t into fiction or fairy stories. Wonder if he reads the Bible.

The judge must not be too bright if he doesn’t understand the books. Definitely has no imagination.

It seems suspicious to me that a judge, who normally reads complex, convoluted legal briefs, would find it difficult to read ‘Harry Potter’. Maybe it’s too straightforward and clearly written for him.

I am a 64 year old male American judge and have read all of the Harry Potter series. [...] The judge that calls these books ‘gibberish’ may have a small screw loose or has completely forgotten his childhood. The books are great and much deeper than one would think.

Kids seem to have no trouble following the Potter books. It’s scary that a judge can’t.

Harry Potter is hardly gibberish. Has the judge listened to attorneys trying cases? He lacks imagination…

Hmm…hope there’s room for some non sequitur political commentary:

Gibberish! The book is easily comprehensible to 10 year olds. How did this man get to be a district court judge? Probably a Clinton appointee.

Response is immediate:

Uhhh, no. Reagan.

And then it’s back to calling the judge stupid:

My 9 year old grandson has digested the entire series. He relishes the complexity and challenge.

And I’ll bet Judge Patterson hasn’t read anything substantive outside of a legal brief in decades…

Harry Potter? Complex? and this guy gets to decide whether someone is guilty of a crime…

seriously we need to start uping the skill requirements to be someone with power in this country.

i’ve had minumum wage jobs with people smart enough to understand harry potter.

Well said.



Battlestar Galactica


by evilolive

Ambrosia Drunk

“I’m sorry.” He turned quickly for the door but stopped when he felt her hand on his wrist.

Lee shut his eyes for a second. It wasn’t intentional, but it definitely made the tension build between them. He looked back at her ruefully and saw that she was standing now, centimeters away from him. He twisted around to face her. He wasn’t certain who made the next move, whether he took a step toward her or she toward him, but their mouths met.

It had crossed Maggie’s mind before what it’d be like to frak the CAG, but she rarely entertained the idea. It was preposterous. But here she was really considering frakkin’ the CAG. It’d been far too long since she had a good frak. The kiss was hot, almost feverish, and it intensified as he pushed her against the wall.

Lee had never been the type to have one-night stands – was that what this was? – Or at least he never thought he would be. It might’ve been the ambrosia impairing his judgment, but he needed this, to feel something other than rejection and anguish. Lee pressed up against Maggie, grinding his hips against hers, and sliding his tongue against hers.


Puppy Love Let No Traitor Put Asunder

In the end he hadn’t had to say a word. She came to his quarters, she sat there and told him how he felt, then proceeded to tell him she felt the same, had done for quite sometime and that life could not wait around for the day William Adama finally ‘got his ass in gear’ To which his shell shocked first response was that she had to stop hanging around the marines as her language was getting a little colourful.

Thus it had begun. She had come into his life, gotten hold of his heart, then taken him to his bed and dispelled any thoughts he ever had of her being a naïve little school teacher.

He worshiped her with his body, and when his body was spent he worshipped her all over again with his hands and lips, her impassioned cries spurring him on, his name torn from her throat as her juices ran over his tongue.

He adored her breasts. After the groundbreaking ceremony on New Caprica, when she had caught him ogling her cleavage, to the feel of her breasts squashed against his chest as they lay beneath the stars. When she did her lazy strip tease for him that first night on the way to his rack, he had stood there and gawked. It was only when she asked him if he was going to stare all night or actually ‘do’ something he finally came out of his rosy nipple induced coma.


Battlestar GalactiRENT

And Lee Adama will attempt to write an angsty poem about his very messed up life…
Lee: Once I loved a girl
Now, when I see her, I just want to hurl
Cause she married Anders, and I married Dee
I guess there’s nothing left in the world for me.
Helo: That…doesn’t make us want to commit suicide too.
Chief: And Felix Gaeta will model the latest fall fashions from Aerilon while visions of Gaius dance in her head.
Gaeta: And Tyrol will grow a beard, amazingly, in just one episode, and while he attempts to fix every Viper in the hangar deck so when they launch they spell out the words–!
All: DIE CYLON LOVERS DIE



Next Page »