Friday, December 7, 2007

Friday's Favorite FanFic Finds: The WTF!?!?! Edition [Part 2]

It's Friday!!! Which not only means your work-week is almost over (or at least mine is!! sucks to be you weekend warriors!), it also means it's time for the second installation of the much feared loved and loathed anticipated: Friday's Favorite FanFic Finds!! [For those who are a little behind, I suggest you warm up with Part 1.]

Woo!!!!*

Brace yourselves, it's about to get really weird in here...

Crispin Hellion Glover & Michael J. Fox


Santa Ana Winds
by tagofflesh

At Crispin's insistence, they stay there to eat, sitting on concrete blocks in the middle of the parking lot as the sun goes down, Mike sipping from a soda and watching Crispin wolf down tacos like he hasn't eaten in ages, cold worry swirling in the pit of his stomach. Cris is on drugs, he thinks. The pressure of Hollywood has gotten to him early. He's just snapped. He's given up.

"Seriously," he says. "Are you...what've you been doing?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, will you leave it alone?" Cris's voice is strained and high to the point of cracking. "I'm fine, I told you. I've been busy, I've been--" He shakes his head. "Why the fuck are you worrying about this? It's a--a perfect night and we're out on a date and I don't fucking need you to worry about me--"

Mike cuts him off with a kiss. For a moment, Cris is frozen, and he thinks he's going to get hit, but then he feels slim fingers sliding up his thigh, groping him through his jeans, and Cris's mouth is opening slowly and it tastes like spice and tomatoes...


Reading Rainbow + Quantum Leap


Physics Jump
by Wisdom Windu

“OH SHIT,” said Sam, falling to the floor and doubling over in pain. He felt as though his very soul was being torn asunder. Jumps were always this painful. “I hate fuckin’ jumping. I hate time-travelling. My name is Sam Beckett, and I want out of here, to the year 1999, my home!” Three faces hovered above him, floating white ovals in a horrid darkness. Through his pain-blurred vision he made out the face of his dead baby daughter.

“Dead baby?! Oh shit, I’ve died this time. I really have! But I won’t let any ghouls pull me into to hell! Die, you little pig shit fuckers! Hyaa!”...

Sam, blinded by fury, reacted like a wounded bear. He threw up his arms and freed himself from his captors. Knife still in hand, he leapt at the nearest individual. But a few steps away, suddenly a shot rang through the air. Al lowered the revolver. “I’m sorry, Sam, but this is for your own good.” Sam didn’t let up, and struggled to move toward his target. Al continued to fire shot after shot, riddling Sam’s body with holographic bullets. The unseen, holographic bullets caused blood to pour forth from Sam’s body. After six or seven shots, Sam was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Finally calmed down, he took in his surroundings.

He was lying in the middle of a television set, with a camera trained directly on him. Recognizing the nature of the location perfectly, and plainly seeing his reflection in the mirror, he realized that he had leapt into Lavar Burton on the set of Reading Rainbow...


The PC, Mac, iPhone Love Triangle


The End of a Business Relationship
by theguardingdark

PC sat in his home office and glared at the away message. It was so typically, frustratingly Mac.
"out chillin w/ iphone. leave one :)"
Ignoring the obvious syntactical errors, it seemed like he'd entirely forgotten their half-made plans for the evening. Not that he particularly liked watching movies with Mac--he laughed far too loudly at the jokes, and smiled too charmingly when PC didn't understand his odd selections. He sang along with the musicals and talked to the characters like they could hear him, and was entirely too patient when PC explained legal concepts and tax laws when they related to the film. And when they sat on his sleek white couch--PC had not yet let Mac invade his home on these movie nights--he drifted slowly closer, starting out on the opposite end and fidgeting over as the film progressed, to the point where PC had wondered if the credits would roll on Thank You For Smoking before Mac ended up sitting in his lap. That was pretty uncomfortable in itself, especially considering the cheerful, uncomplicated way he touched PC, with no regard for personal space at all.

But it was the principle of the thing. He'd made the offer, but hadn't even bothered to follow up before making other plans. What if he'd been sitting here waiting for a call? (Not that he was--PC had better and more important things to do than sit around hoping Mac would make time for him.) What if he'd cancelled something very important thinking they had plans? (Not that Mac would ever, ever come before an important conference call or meeting.)

He briefly considered leaving a message. But that would be stupid. It would seem desperate. Instead he turned back to the very important Powerpoint presentation he was working on and closed his chat program. Just as well to not be bothered until he was done with this...


Bonus: Mac Hearts PC, the Livejournal Community

Alton Brown, star of Food Network's Good Eats

by Wordgoddess

Finally, I can't take it anymore, and when he's showing me his spice rack and describing some of his favorite flavors, I step closer to him, standing up on my toes, breathing in his delicious, lightly musky scent. I touch his arm and whisper against his earlobe, "So what's the best flavor you've ever tasted?" He lets out a barely audible moan and almost smiles as he turns and our mouths meet, followed by our tongues...

Criss Angel: Magician, Mindfreaker


Paper Cranes
by FallenFromGrace

"So, if you're not really a whore, what do you do for a living?" she leaned forward on the seat, folding her arms on it and resting her chin on her arms.

"I am a magician. My name's Criss. Criss Angel,"

"A magician?" her eyes lit up, and she lifted up her chin. "Oh, are you really? How marvelous!" she seemed as pleased as any younger person would have been.

"Yes, really." Criss was amused that she seemed so mirthful at the discovery. She was almost childlike. It was quite lovely, actually.

"And what would your name be."

"Crayne Taylor," she held out a small white hand for him to shake. Criss caught it in both of his and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She giggled as she felt his lips on her wrist. He continued to hold onto her for a moment longer than was needed.

Oh yes, the energy was strong in this one...

"It's late. Don't you think it would be safer to come home with me? You could call your parents from my home, they could come and get you." Criss offered. She bit her lip again. It was clear that she was recalling every single story she'd ever heard of a girl being attacked or raped by a man who seemed lovely at the time.

"I don't have any parents." she confessed. "There isn't anybody who will miss me. No one ever goes looking for Crayne."

"Now that I don't believe." he touched her cheek. She leaned into the touch, almost as though her body was starving for it.

"Crayne,"

"You must believe me, Criss. No one wants me."

"No one ever goes looking for Crayne." he repeated. She looked away. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him. She leaned her head against his chest.

"I would go looking for you. Come home with me tonight. I promise that you can leave any time that you like. I'll even call you a cab."

"If you could take a cab, why in the world would you ever ride a bus?"

"Because perhaps I knew I'd meet you. I am magic, you know." she giggled. He loved the feeling of that, the sound of it. He got the feeling that maybe she didn't get to giggle half as often as she should...

Good Lord! Mindfreak indeed!!!


* Editor's Note: Apologies to the punctuation-sensitive among you. It's one of the side effects of the drugs, they make me feel like I'm in love. You think I'm joking, but you try mixing your uppers and downers and you'll see what I'm talking about. Oh, and my 30 days of sobriety are up today. I'm just a famous career away from an E! True Hollywood Story/Behind the Music...

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