Should I?

Dec. 12th, 2010 08:20 am
krislaughs: (spn heart)
I have a (very) important question to ask y'all. Should I go back and catch up on season six Supernatural?

I haven't mostly because five ended just where I was happy to have it end, and I really didn't want to be disappointed...

But now I might have a little time on my hands and I got curious. Hopefully I won't be killing any cats.


In some of this spare time, I've been going back and re-watching Stargate: Atlantis. Man, I did enjoy that series, pseudoscience and all. Hey, can anyone point me in the direction of, er, discerning fic rec comms for it? (Happy to read gen, slash, action, whatever)

Gosh, I'm being demanding.


And finally,

Christmas card writing day! Reply with a screened comment/address if you want a card! (although a few of you whose addresses I have, won't get off regardless :D )
krislaughs: (spn dean chews pen)
Coda to 5x16, response to the prompt by [ profile] deidre_c to [ profile] lazy_daze's Fix-it meme

Princess and the Pea: Sam retrieves and hides the amulet, but Dean can somehow sense where it is.


“Ugh, what is that smell? You forget to wash your socks or something?”

Sam rolls his eyes and falls back onto the orange polyester bedspread. There’s a water stain on the ceiling and the a/c clacks and clatters without putting out more than the passing thought of cold air. One light bulb is flickering, the other is out, but it’s the only intact room in the only standing motel this side of town and, after three rounds of rocks-paper-scissors that ended in draws, they decided to share. Just like old times. Almost.

Dean’s hair is a little shorter; Sam can’t remember the last time he cut his. There’s a fresh scar, fine and pink, across Dean’s left cheek, and the duffel he drops on the rickety wooden table is mended in two or three more places. Sam’s boots have holes at the toes; he’s been travelling on foot mostly, hitching rides when he can, when there’s a truck going the right way, when it’s driven by someone who’s not too frightened or possessed to take him in.

“You saw the omens leading here?” he asks Dean.

“Tip from a psychic,” Dean answers, “Up in Cheppewa Falls.” He pauses, and Sam wonders whether he’s thinking of Pam. “Really, man, that stinks.” Dean follows his nose around the room like a bloodhound.

“Don’t smell it. Sorry.” Sam pushes himself up off the bed and shrugs out of his flannel. He examines the slash across the back of the fabric, edges scorched from shoulder to waist. He sees Dean watching from the corner of his eye. “Thanks,” he ventures, holding up the shirt. For getting here in time.

Dean shrugs. “Wasn’t gonna give those angelic bastard lapdogs the satisfaction.”

Sam doesn’t mention that, for just an instant, he was afraid Dean was going to do exactly that. He looks once more at the rent in the shirt, wads it up and tosses it into the corner. At this rate, he’s going to run out of clothes, and new ones are hard to come by these days. His undershirt is damp and clings to his skin. He peels that off next and wipes the sweat from his neck. “I’m gonna shower,” he says.

“Good. You stink.”

“Think you can find us some food?”

Dean almost smiles. “It is me we’re talking about.”

That’s all I was hoping for, Sam thinks as he watches Dean disappear through the door.
When he shuts off the cool water, the aroma of sizzling meat hits him square in the nose. His stomach rumbles, and suddenly he can’t remember the last time he ate, the last time there was dinner when he stepped out of a shower in a roadstop motel, the last time everything felt so deliriously, painfully normal. He grins as he opens the door. “Where did you find—“

Dean is standing on the opposite side of the room from the hot plate and skillet in which two large hamburgers are smoking. He’s bent over Sam’s bag, holding something small and working it between war roughened fingers. “I found the smell,” he says slowly.

Sam swallows, exhales slowly. “So it worked,” he replies.

“What worked?”

He runs a hand through wet hair. “I almost don’t believe it, but… it is a Finding Things—People—amulet after all. I—“ He studies Dean, turned away, not meeting his gaze. “I asked it to find you.”

“Why would you—“

“Because.” Sam crosses the room. This isn’t quite how he imagined explaining himself; when it played out in his head, there were definitely more clothes involved. He tightens the towel around his waist. “Because you’re an idiot.”

“You invoked an amulet powerful enough to locate God, just to tell me I’m an idiot?”

“Yes. Wait. You’re an idiot because, when we died—most recently—you didn’t ask to see the rest of it.

“Rest of what?”

“The rest of my heaven.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t—First, we were a little preoccupied at the time. Second, I think I saw plenty.”

“No. You didn’t.” Sam takes his shoulder and turns him around. “You didn’t see that on the sideboard across from the turkey dinner was the boysenberry pie, the one from that little shop on the beach in Cape Elizabeth, with the pretty blond waitress. You made us sit there for four hours, just eating pie and waiting for her to finish her shift.”

“I puked all night,” Dean said.

“But she was into you. And it was really good pie. There’s more. You didn’t see the room where we figured out how to outwit Gabriel—okay not for good, but it felt like a win at the time. You missed the bedroom back home, when you finished off the poltergeist—it was the first time I ever remember even seeing Mom. Outside that room from Flgstaff was the muddy field and tent where we found that preacher who saved your life. You never saw that the road outside was the one from the clinic, back at Crater Lake--” His voice breaks, but he can see Dean remember the damp morning, the empty street where zombies infected with the Croatoan virus had been just hours before, the sense that they didn’t know how, but they’d dodged one hell of a bullet that day. Together. “They were all there, Dean.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a twisted sense of heaven?” Dean asks, but his shoulders relax and he finally meets Sam’s eyes.

“I used the amulet because I wanted to tell you that.”

“Dinner’s burning,” he says.

“I don’t care.” But Sam goes back to the hotplate and flips the switch off. Even having Dean back, listening, doesn’t mean they need to waste a good meal. Especilly because, “And there’s one other thing,” Sam adds slowly, gauging Dean’s response.

He raises an eyebrow. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough.

“You know this whole apocalypse war we were trying to stop?”

“Yeah, Sam. I do.”

“I think I have an idea.”

TV time

Nov. 14th, 2009 07:56 pm
krislaughs: (castle)
So things have been slow the last two weeks at work which means, of course, that I have been hard at work catching up on TV. And I've discovered something: I really like crime dramas!

Leverage ZOMG, total favorite, smart and caught me by surprise more than once. When will it be back?

Bones Is it me, or are they dressing and shooting Emily Deschanel like she's pregnant this year (baggy dresses, mostly shown boobs and up)? I can't, however find anything about it on the trusty google search.

Castle Not only is it awesome to see Mal as a crime-solving-mystery-writer (even if it's all pretty formulaic), but it's my favorite show to watch when I get homesick for New York.

White Collar Also good for when I'm jonesing for home. The pilot is still my favorite episode, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

In non-crime TV, Supernatural and Merlin are still my favoritest, although the whole 'laugh at the audience' thing on spn is getting about as old as the 'dumb Merlin' jokes on Merlin.


Sep. 16th, 2009 12:05 am
krislaughs: (wine)
Hells, I should not be awake right now, but I'm buzzing and humming with energy despite the red wine in my blood. You know when something happens that transcends your expectations? And no matter how much you don't want to let it get to you, maybe it does?

Also, I've had far more liquid dinner than the solid kind.

I dunno.


Maybe I should take tomorrow off. Technically I'm supposed to every other week, but I only do it about one Wednesday a month.


I may or may not be working an spn/discworld crossover and regretting leaving my discworld novels back in New York.


I was spoilers ) by the True Blood finale. more spoilers )


I REALLY want to watch Star Trek reboot again. Do we really have to wait until november?!?

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