"You're the girl I made fun of in elementary school. You know that?"

Fighting and Fountains [Fic, Josh/Donna, ~2000 words]

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 15:42:29 GMT

Title: Fighting and Fountains
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: Josh/Donna, UST (for. the. moment.)
Rating: R PG-13, but whatever happens in your head I'm not responsible for. Honest.
Author's Note: If you want to find someone to blame for this, it's all Caz's fault, although she did look it over for me, so I guess we're even. The idea of Wet!Josh seems to be rather... virulent. *sigh* It's a hard life being a Brad Fangirl (we're getting jackets made.).

There could be a 'part two'. Watch this space.

Fighting and Fountains

“Don’t, Josh.” She sat back on the bench, allowing her shoulders to slump and her head to flop back. The torn strap of her dress flapped lightly as she moved.

“What? Don’t what?! I should go in there and knock that bastard out!” He was on his feet now, gripping the railings with whitened knuckles. “He’s a piece of work, Donna.”

“Go on, say it.”

“Say what? That he’s a small, fraction of a man who doesn’t deserve to have a woman like you even look at him, let alone-”

“Say ‘I told you so’. It’s right on the tip of your damn tongue, isn’t it?” She was shouting now, the anger she felt towards herself reaching out and snapping at Josh. She sat forward; her body folded in defeat, her face in her hands.

When he noticed tears starting to make dark spots on the purple satin of her dress, Josh made a decision. Taking off his tuxedo jacket, he dropped it lightly around her shoulders and leaned down, resting his hand lightly on the nape of her neck. “I don’t care about ‘I told you so’. I care about you.” With that, and leaving Donna with gooseflesh all over her body, he moved with determination towards the open doors of the Kennedy Centre.

Before Donna had the chance to make it to the doors herself, Josh came barrelling out of them, pushing past her and dragging behind him Michael, the guy she’d been seeing for a month, and the reason her dress was torn and there were scratches across her shoulder. It seemed that neither of them had registered her presence as Josh manhandled the other man away from the doors and towards the fountain, his face set hard in anger. Clearly under the influence of the expensive champagne being served inside, Michael struggled but was unable to free himself. “Josh!” Donna called out - he didn’t react, just kept striding across the park, Michael in tow. When the men were out of earshot of the Centre, Josh swung his arm around, throwing the other guy in front of him by his shirt front. “You son of a bitch.” Josh’s grip tightened, pulling Michael close enough so the clouds of their breath swallowed each other.

“What the hell are-”Spotting Donna over Josh’s shoulder, Michael coughed a self-satisfied laugh and called out to her. “Oh, I see! Well, kitten, if you’re gonna go running to your boss-man here every time we have a little disagreement, I don’t think this is going to -.”

“- You listen to me," Josh bellowed, "you ignorant, pig-headed jackass. She’s a hundred times too good for you, and if you ever so much as look at her again, I will personally kick your sorry ass all the way to Europe, got that? I’ll get my friends, and we’ll punt you into Norway. Get the hell out of my sight, before I do that pretty face of yours some damage.”

Turning, he released Michael - almost throwing him aside - and they stared at each other for a moment, Michael’s eyes like saucers. “You’re screwing her, aren’t-”

Donna flinched. This time, it was Josh’s fist that ended Michael's sentence and, from the accompanying sound, probably broke his nose along with it. Covering his face, Michael stumbled back, the blood already dripping from between his cupped hands. Seconds later he had disappeared into the darkness, and despite Josh's unbelievably reckless actions, Donna felt exhilarated. Josh was staring fiercely into the darkness after Michael’s retreating form, fists still clenched.

Donna mumbled his name, a bright smile skimming over her face. “You shouldn’t have done that.” She started to laugh nervously. Josh turned to face her, but she could see he was looking through, rather than at her – he was pale now, and he was rubbing his right hand with his left. After a moment, stunned by his actions and with relief, he stepped back - only a couple of paces, but that was all it took.

He’d tripped over the low wall of the fountain, and as Donna rushed over he landed with a heavy splash in the cold water. Despite it being only a foot or so deep, Josh floundered, gasping in shock and just getting wetter.

Struggling to shout over the noise he was making, Donna took a tentative step closer only to receive a splatter of water on her shoes. “Josh! Stop waving your arms around, you lunatic: I’ve seen deeper puddles!”

When Josh had finally stopped his flapping, he was quite the sight. Sitting on the floor of the fountain with his legs resting on the wall, he was completely soaked. The expression on his face, however, was a soft smile, despite the fact that there was water dripping from his hair and nose. As he lifted his hand, trails of clear water dropped from his fingers. He shook them off and wiped his mouth. It didn’t make much difference. His lips were still wet with water from the fountain, and as he formed them into a pout, Donna was struck by how full they looked.

“I defend your honour, and you can’t even tell me that I’m about to fall into a fountain?” He was shouting, but the anger was feigned. His eyes twinkled with laughter, and she smiled broadly.

“The fountain is twelve feet across - how in the world did you manage to miss it?”

Josh held out his hands, “Just get me out, would you please?”

“Why? You got more fist-fights to get into?” C.J. had materialised out of the darkness, making short work of the distance from the doors with determined strides. “I should just come over there and hold your head under the water, you colossal, stupendous, monumental- You think the Deputy Chief of Staff could get into a brawl and no-one would bat an eyelid? Are you drunk?!”

“C.J., it’s not Josh’s fault.” Donna stepped between the still advancing Press Secretary and her boss, who had made no attempt to remove himself from the water under his own volition. It’s entirely possible he considered himself safer there than on his feet. This was fast becoming a very bizarre evening.

C.J. stopped her charge, and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, what? Is he suffering from a highly specific case of Tourettes? Maybe it’s alien-hand syndrome. Nervous twich? Or is it, and I’m leaning towards this last one, complete idiocy?!” C.J.’s face was turning a dangerous shade of red, and she was talking pretty fast, even for her. “Did I piss you off in a past life or something? I could just-” She made a throttling gesture with her hands, and the angry noise that went with it made even Donna jump.

Quickly and succinctly Donna covered the main events of the evening. “…and Josh told him that he’d kick his ass all the way to Poland.”

“Norway.” Josh mumbled, lifting his hand to sweep his wet hair back off his forehead.

C.J. stared from Josh to Donna and back again, dumbfounded. After a moment, she sighed, exasperation and concern mingling in her voice. “Let me see.”

Donna shrugged off the shoulder of the jacket Josh had dropped around her earlier, and showed CJ the damage to her dress and the scratches on her skin.

“That rat bastard.”

“It’s okay, Josh broke his nose.” Donna pulled the jacket around her once more, and folded her arms across her chest.

Despite a hard glare in Josh’s direction, C.J. was already relenting. “I’ll work the Times, and I’ll give Danny a call - we’ll see what we can do about nipping this one in the bud.” C.J. put a hand on Donna’s elbow. “It’ll be alright.”

“Thanks, C.J. You really think he’ll go to the press?”

“Definitely. If he’s capable of-”

They were interrupted by a sneeze from behind them. “Ladies, could we deal with a considerably more pressing matter before we get into how to spin this?” Josh struggled, slopping more water over the side of the fountain. “Specifically the fact that I think there are things in here with me?” He shifted nervously and eyed the water pooled over his crotch with suspicion.

C.J. stepped around Donna, covering the few feet between her and Josh in a second. She stretched out her hand, but instead of pulling him up, she clipped him around the back of his head with a sharp ‘thwack’. “Idiot boy.”

“Ow! - the hell? I was being chivalrous!” He raised a hand to nurse the spot that C.J. had smacked, and in doing so splashed more water over his shoulders and chest.

“Chivalrous or not, it was still stupid. I’d ask why you’re sitting in the Kennedy Centre’s beautiful fountain, but I honestly don’t think I care that much.”

"Donna didn't tell me it was here." Josh appeared to have resigned himself to spending the rest of his evening in the water. “It’s cold.”

“My office, tomorrow, first thing.”

“Yeah. Claudia Jean, you remember in which direction the chain of command runs, right?”

“Joshua Lyman, I'm going to kill you with my own two hands.” There was an edge to her voice, and a look on her face that caused the pit of Josh’s stomach to drop far into the floor of the fountain. There was no smart response when C.J. had that look, just complete compliance. “Yes ma’am.”

She pointed a long index finger at his face, mere inches from his nose. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She turned, and after sharing a look and a small smile with Donna, she strode back into the darkness just as quickly as she’d approached, already fishing in her purse for her cell-phone. Shortly after, they were alone together again. Donna moved to stand between Josh’s splayed legs, and mimicked C.J.’s earlier hands-on-hips stance.

“Seriously, Donna. I’m pretty cold.”

“That was perhaps the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” She could think of a couple of things that might top it, but this was definitely high on the list.

“I know, but I’m not kidding - if you don’t get me out, there’s a chance some very important parts of my anatomy aren’t going to make it through this traumatic-”

“Thank you, Josh.” She said softly, smiling down at him, all wet hair and clingy white shirt, and tried to convey everything she was feeling in that simple phrase. He grinned lopsidedly up at her. “You bet.” She took his outstretched hands and hoisted him – with some effort – out of the fountain. Unfortunately for Donna, he brought a large quantity of the water with him, and most of it ended up drenching her from the knees down. When he'd made it to his feet, she was still staring down at the dark patch on the front of her dress and her probably ruined shoes. Preparing to admonish him for the damage, she glanced back at him - and found that all rational thought had fled her mind.

Standing before her, Josh looked like something straight out of a nineteenth-century novel – his sodden shirt finding every contour of his body, and the translucent quality of wet white cotton leaving so little to her imagination she feared it was about to short-circuit. There were beads of water on the ridges of collar-bone she could see, and one of them was meandering down, leaving glistening skin behind it. Involuntarily, she licked her lips, unable to stop herself from following the trail it left with her eyes as it disappeared under his shirt, where -

Oh wow - the water really must be cold…

She forced herself to look back at her face. “You’re wet,” she mumbled, suddenly aware that she’d been staring at him silently for too long.

Fortunately, Josh didn't seem to have noticed. “Funny that, having just spent most of the evening sitting in a fountain.” He snickered, squeezing both of her hands without thinking. “You’d think I’d be dry as a bone.”

Don’t say ‘bone’, Donna thought. It’s not helping. With some effort, she cleared her throat, and tried to put all R-rated thoughts out of her mind. Take charge. “Seriously Josh, it looks like you went skinny-dipping and forgot to take off your clothes. You can’t go back into the party like that.” She tried to slip her hands from his, but he only let her have one. The other he held tightly, and together they started to amble slowly across the grass.

“Why not? I’d like to toast your boyfriend.” He spat the last word without thinking, and regretted it instantly. Donna looked at him momentarily, then dipped her head. “Sorry. At least let me take you back inside and get you drunk.”

“You’ll catch your death.” And I don’t want to share this sight with anyone, she thought. “Can’t we just go home?”

“Can I get you drunk there?” Josh turned his head and gave her a comical leer, and she smacked him playfully across the shoulder.

Life with Lyman. Never dull.

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 23:16:56 GMT

The man who sold me sweets during my entire school life died today. Mum used to work for him so she's pretty upset, though she'd never admit it. He had been suffering from lung cancer for about six months, but a heart-attack killed him. I used to call him 'Uncle Peter'.

Also, I don't think I'll be able to go to my grandmother's christmas party this year, because I'll be in smelly london watching smelly compulsory plays. Had a bit of a cry earlier, because this essay is so, so bad, and things have just been craptacular. Plus I have four hours in SPAR tomorrow. Oh work, how I hate thee.

I don't want fries. [Fic, Josh&CJ, ~550 words, TWW minis - Josh Challenge]

Sun, 22 Oct 2006 12:13:23 GMT

This is for biginjapan, who wanted CJ and Josh, more friendship than relationship, boredom and lunch. I'm sorry it's not long, but I tried out a different style that, well... Didn't really run for as long as I'd hoped. Also, it's pretty late. Damn Uni eating up all my time. P.S. Thought I'd use some Sorkin, because 'mushmouse' and 'pumpkinpuss' never fail to make me giggle.

“I don’t want fries.”

“You told me.”

"I’m reminding you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can write it down, Josh.”

“I’m one of the world’s most influential political minds, baby. I think I can remember ‘no fries with that’ without a cue-card, thank you.”

“… Did you just call me baby back there, skipper?”

“… No, no-no.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“…What are you waiting for?”

“I seem to have forgotten what you didn’t want fries with.”

“That’s it, I’m writing it down. How did you survive college without, just...you know, falling down?”

“My mom called a lot.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘I don’t doubt it’?”

"It was a Caesar salad, pumpkinpuss.”

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I do.”

“But you do it anyways.”

“How ‘bout that?”

“What did you mean by-”

“You and your mom are close, is all.”

“What was that tone of voice? Are you calling me a momma’s boy?”

“Would it be the first time? Here.”

“You’re cranky when you haven’t eaten.”

“Thanks. Can you remember what you want? There’s some space on there if you want me to write that down too…”

“What’s this scrawl at the bottom? … 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?"

“I was worried you wouldn’t find your way back after getting the food.”

“You’re a funny girl, CJ, really.”

“Well, I’m not worried about you so much as that I want my salad. I can get worse than this, and that kid in the bullpen still hasn’t forgiven me for throwing my copy of the constitution at his little pin-head when Toby got stuck in traffic bringing back chinese food...”

“He didn’t deserve it.”

“Of course he deserved it.”

“You’ve forgotten why you did it.”

“I have, in fact, forgotten. Yes. But I remember that the little pin-headed twerp deserved it.”

“You know he’s put in for a transfer to my bullpen?”

“Oh, because there’s less chance of getting things thrown at you when you work for the most temperamental man in the whole United States.”

“I don’t throw things.”

“Oh really? I seem to remember a briefing book flying down the corridor just last week.”

“Accidentally. I dropped it.”

“At great speed.”

“Got any money?”

“I thought this was your treat?”

“Did I say that?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

“Donna said you’d buy me lunch in return for -”

“Right. Well, thing is I don’t actually have any cash, and Donna won’t lend me any till I admit I was wrong about the thing.”

“I’ve got about ten dollars, and you are wrong.”

“Like I don’t know that. Ten’s not enough if you want fries and one of those little-”

“I don’t want-… Look at the damn piece of paper, Joshua.”

“Right. Well, what about my lunch?”

“What about your lunch?”

“You’re a mean, mean woman, Claudia Jean.”

“Relax. Toby owes me twenty bucks, so just go collect that before you head out.”

“Why does Toby owe you-”

“He lost a bet.”

“What bet?”

“Go get the food, mushmouse.”

“Where, in the name of all that is holy and right in the world do you get all these goddam names from?”

“Go!"

The Women Watched Him [Fanfic, ~1,300 words, Toby&Andi&CJ, Campaign]

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:26:45 GMT

This is this months' tww_minis fic. It has been a battle, and I'm not entirely sure that it fits what was requested exactly, but I tried. Thanks to keep_warm for her valid input, and more thanks go to caz963 for sitting on MSN and helping me weedle out the bad writing - You rock, you know that?

Extra points to the reader who picks out the blatant thievery of a Sports Night idea. :)

This is for tyg_nyw, who requested Toby, Andi and CJ, pre-season stuff. I sort of mangled the Toby/Andi and CJ/Toby to get a big mess. I'm guessing it isn't what you'd imagined.

The women watched him.

After he’d gone to retrieve CJ from the useless world of Hollywood movie-moguls, he realized that the women in the campaign office eyed him with a little more than simple mistrust.

It wasn’t his fault, he’d already decided. They were being delusional. They didn’t have special powers, nor did they have a sixth sense of any kind. They thought they had this ability, which they didn’t of course, but not one of them actually… Getting lost in his own words, he shook his head. His world was becoming like one of those soap opera storylines and he didn’t like it. Having CJ here wasn’t a personal move, he told himself. She was just what they needed – smart, savvy and personable.

He frowned, rubbing his eyes with one hand. That was it. She was good for the campaign. He realized after a moment that he was justifying his actions without anyone having questioned them. He was preparing, perhaps, for the day Andi found out about CJ joining the campaign. Curling his left hand into a fist, he dropped it onto the table with a dull thud. What made this so hard?

In another makeshift office, CJ considered the wording of the note she was about to scribble on Toby’s latest insert into the stump speech. After a moment’s thought, she smiled and wrote something quickly in the margin, then carried on reading. She was so absorbed in the speech she didn’t notice the redhead place her coat over the back of the chair, then slip into the seat opposite her.

“CJ.”

Starting slightly, she looked up, coming face to face with Andrea Wyatt for the first time in two years.

“Andrea! It’s good to see you.” CJ’s warm smile belied the discontent this woman aroused in her.

“I didn’t know you were coming up to join the campaign…” Andrea’s whole demeanour was stiff, from the linked fingers across her knees to the false smile that sat uncomfortably on her face.

“Toby didn’t tell you?” CJ swallowed, pursing her lips and frowning, despite knowing that she wasn’t exactly a popular topic of conversation in the Ziegler household.

“No. He hasn’t talked about you since-”

“-Andrea.”

“What are you doing here, CJ? You have a plan?”

“God, Andrea, it was two years ago; when are you going to forgive him?” CJ fought to keep her voice level – the campaign headquarters was basically made of boxes – not exactly conducive to a private conversation.

“I have forgiven him.”

CJ shook her head. “We used to be friends.”

The fire shone in the smaller woman’s eyes, glistening and hot. Standing, she started to spit out the words, “Yes, we did. And then you-” but CJ interrupted her with a soft whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Andi. You know I am. One day you’ll have to stop punishing me.”

Andrea paused, staring at the still-seated woman before her. “You’re sure about that?”

CJ stood, placed her hands on the desk, and leaned forward until she was only a foot away from Andrea’s face. She’d changed in the two years she’d been away, gotten stronger, gotten a grip on herself. She’d made mistakes, yes, but she’d paid the price.

Her voice now was low, and not unthreatening. “Andrea, please. The past is in the past, and I’m just here doing my job. You won, I moved basically across a continent, don’t you think, I mean, don’t you think that this isn’t about me anymore?”

Andrea stepped back, stunned by her words. All this time she’d been fixated on having someone to blame, just to get herself through another day. Now, her perspective was level once more, and she could see her world and everything in it with a clear eye.

“I…”

CJ stood up straight now, folding her arms across her chest and staring intently at the shorter woman. “I don’t think this is as much about me as you want it to be.” Andrea dropped her eyes to the floor, unprepared for such a stark revelation.

“Andi, go and talk to Toby. I don’t have a plan; I just want to do my job.” CJ resumed her seat, picked up her pen and hunched over the speech once more, dismissing the other woman with her body language

After a silence – or, as near to a silence as you can get in a campaign headquarters – Andrea gathered up her overcoat and picked up her bag, mostly to hide her shaking hands. Turning to leave, she paused at the doorway, unable to bring herself to cross the threshold back into the real world.

More moments of quiet reflection passed, and CJ found herself unable to concentrate on the next passage. When Andrea spoke, it didn’t startle her. She knew what was coming.

“We can’t get pregnant.” she muttered, half hoping CJ wouldn’t hear.

CJ lifted her head again, gripping the ends of the pen in both fingers, nervous once more. The aggression she had felt earlier was gone now, wiped out by the sudden desolation apparent in the woman before her. Delicately, she nodded. “Toby talked to me.”

Turning around slowly, Andrea was unsure of what she was expecting; maybe sympathy, maybe a look of triumph. She saw neither. For a brief moment the flames in Andrea’s face returned, but CJ’s calm look of compassion was the water that quenched them, leaving only smoke. “He did.” It wasn’t in question – Andrea had already realized that if there was one person Toby needed around right now, it was CJ. She hoped his old friend could bring him through, because she didn’t think she was strong enough to carry both of them any longer. They had reached their breaking point.

“He’s so worried about you.”

Studying her striking features, Andrea tried hard to believe that there was nothing sexual left between her husband and the woman before her.

She’d seen hints of their inferno long before she’d known for sure, perhaps before even they had. CJ had this immense power over Toby that she could never begin to understand, though she was wont to try, and Toby captivated CJ like no other. Her jealousy had never been unfounded, despite Toby’s repeated claims.

He’d not been happy for a long time, she knew that. His sadness was something she’d often gotten so tangled with that she just wanted to hole herself up in her study and cry. She was trying, working so hard to fix it, but he was lost. He didn’t realize that a baby was their last chance. Their last… anything. The IVF had been so traumatic, but Toby seemed to have found a way to blame himself. He didn’t want this… interference.

“He’s become so… frustrated. I just can’t…” The sobs took her by surprise, and she dropped her bag and coat to allow her to cover her face with her hands.

CJ stood again and moved around the desk till she was in front of Andrea. Tentatively, and with great care not to crowd her, she placed both her hands on the shorter woman’s upper arms, gripping them firmly.

“Andi, listen to me. You need to talk this out with Toby. I know it hurts, and I know he’s not good at this… Hey. Shh… Hey. It’s okay…” As Andrea started to cry more vehemently, CJ wrapped her arms around her and held her awkwardly, hushing and whispering reassuring things in her ear.

Andrea allowed herself a moment to cry before she gathered herself up, pulling away from CJ and wiping bloodshot eyes. They shared a look of mutual respect before Andrea picked up her coat and bag once more.

“I’m sorry, CJ. Good luck here.” With that, Andrea Wyatt left the office, and CJ watched as she walked right past the area where they both knew Toby was working.

As she walked out of the door the late summer sun caught Andrea by surprise, simply because she really hadn’t seen anything so clearly for a long time.

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 23:47:21 GMT

RULES FOR NOT BEING AN ANNOYING MEMBER OF MY FANDOMS, BY ME.

1) If you are a fan of something, remember the names of the characters when you post in communities. It's fine to say 'That guy, you know the one, with the hair...' in your own journal where people generally already like you or don't care that much. If you can't remember/don't know, there's a little gem of a website called IMDB.com.

2) Don't believe your opinions are the word of god. No-one shares this belief with you, 'kay? You're more likely to get a decent discussion with 'Okay, so I think this, but I know other people think this. What do you think?'. Also? Don't say 'I expect a billion comments on this because ~~I'm so wonderful~~ this community is so busy.' No points for arrogance, unless it's justified. Like if you've just written an amazing fic, or if you can sing the theme of The West Wing whilst drinking a glass of milk and standing on your head. (That's especially difficult because of the lack of words in the West Wing theme.) 'I had a thought and I didn't fall down' does not constitute an achievement worthy of arrogance, 'kay?

3) Spell. Properly. English is your friend. Exceptions may be given if English is not your first language, or you've got no arms and you have to type with your toes. But that's it. I've said it a hundred times. Want serious consideration? DON'T DISCARD YOUR FIRST SCHOOL EDUCATION. Mrs Wigglesman worked her ass off to teach you how to spell, it's disrespectful to the old bat if you just go off all willy-nilly and forget that more than one letter constitutes words like 'You' and 'Are'.

4) Pictures make me happy.

5) Long posts in communities that will appear on other peoples Flists need to be under a cut. That's just common courtesy, y'all. I don't come into your house, take up all the goddam space in your lounge with the entire team of people on football scholarships at the University of Colorado and then make you talk to every one of them when you don't give a damn about football, now do I?

6) I'm serious about the pictures.

7) This one was suggested by azure15 - Don't slag off a pairing and then claim that 'Oh! I just don't like it because it's not canon!' Think of a better reason than that to diss people and what they like. In fact, as an amendment to this rule, don't slag off any pairing. You don't want your pairing taken out the back and shot, don't kick the crap out of someone elses. That's just not how we do it in this part of the world. If you have a valid reason for disliking a pairing - and I mean dislike, because if you don't care or are indifferent, then you have no reason to do any slagging off - then reasoned, measured explanation means that everyone comes away with their views broadened and without the desire to kick small rodents at slightly larger rodents for sport.

8) Another Az one - OCs. Not The OC, though that should have a set of rules all it's own, much like the HP fandom (No, not the brown sauce and beans fandom, the one about that wizard with the cute girlfriend. The nerdy one isn't bad looking either.) Where was I? OCs. These should be approached with severe caution, and only attempted by seriously good writers, much like free-verse poetry. Az thinks that they never work, but there is a little part of myself that is in eternal hope of finding a non-mary-sue. The rule here? Be considerate of your readers. Don't inflict some hellish creation on them just because you feel like inventing a super-powered CSI girl called Melody-Fawn Briar-Rose Possum-Head Lulu-Maybelline Trollop. It's. Just. Not. Fair.

9) A fan is a fan is a fan. Though I don't think people who CAN'T LOOK UP THE NAMES OF CHARACTERS THEY WANT TO COMMENT ON should be allowed access to the internet without extensive supervision, they're still fans. Also, if you haven't seen the movie but have read the book, or if you haven't read the manga but you've seen the anime, then you've as much right to call yourself a fan of the series as the people who have. However, you're not allowed to make extensive commentary on something you haven't seen, because that's just dumb. It is! I don't know anyone who would do that, but seriously, there are people out there who do. It's like saying 'Well, pancakes taste like dirt! I don't eat them.' 'Have you ever eaten one?' 'NO! THEY TASTE OF THE GROUND.'

10) Spoilers. They're like crack, in a way. I like reading spoilers, but I understand that other people like the element of suprise more, and I respect that. I also only like to read spoilers if I actively hunt them out. This is why spoilers, no matter if it's a UK or US community or anywhere else in the world for that matter, should always, always, always be under a cut. No exceptions. It's just compassion and generally tolerant behaviour and takes very little effort! Seriously. Putting in a cut is not hard. And exactly why is it so important that you don't use a cut, anyway? If anyone so much as mentions 'freedom of speech' in an argument about the use and non-use of LJ-cuts, they automatically lose all community and also breathing privileges for the good of the internet and also for the good of humanity. Suck it up. You'll have to click one more link before you can read who dies in the next episode that airs in four minutes? Find someone who gives a crap. Oh... Compassion. Right.

That's it for now, but feel free to add your own. I know that we all have pet peeves about fandom sometimes. Also? Anyone offended by this, look away now.

That warning was a little late, wasn't it?

Sorry

P.S. Any resemblence or relationship to any current activities in any communities is purely ~~in your head~~ coincidental.

Telling Lies [Fanfic, ~2,500 words, Josh/Donna, Campaign]

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 21:19:33 GMT

Title: Telling Lies
Rating: PG-13
Word-Count: ~2,500
Pairing: Josh/Donna, Donna&Sam friendship.
Synopsis: Donna and Sam have a few drinks and a heart to heart, and Josh gets involved. It's pretty straightforward, actually. Set during the campaign. Mentions of 17 People and ITSOTG.
Disclaimer Not mine, never will be. :(

“He’s a bastard.” Donna screwed her hand into a fist and frowned.

Sam’s mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile as she spoke. Tipsy Donna was definitely going on his list of ‘things to see more often’. “I know. But you’re rid of him now.”

“I can’t believe he’d do that to me! Jerk.” She sipped from her heavy bottomed glass and discovered that there was no longer any scotch in it. Raising her hand in the air, she called a waitress over and plopped the glass on her tray, then asked for a refill.

“On his tab,” she added, gesturing to Sam. He nodded, but after Donna had turned away, he made the universal signal for ‘a little bit’.

Donna picked up the fresh glass and cradled it in her hands, pulling her knees up onto the couch next to her. She winced slightly as she moved her bad ankle, the bandage both cumbersome and tight. When she’d gotten settled, she downed half of the scotch. It burned her throat, and she coughed. She was getting better at this hard-drinking though; her reaction to the first scotch of the evening had been pretty explosive.

Sam began to feel concern for the younger staffer, his best friend’s assistant. “Don, are you sure you’re allowed to, well, drink like this whilst you're taking those painkillers Mrs Bartlet gave you?” He gestured to her ankle.

“You’re channelling my mother now?” She waved an accusatory open palmed hand at him, and he took her point.

“Okay, well, can I at least make you comfortable?” He gestured to his lap. “You can put your feet up, if you want.” As she tilted her head questioningly, he frowned slightly and shook his head. “You know me better than that, surely.”

Smiling her thanks, she straightened her legs and placed her feet gently onto Sam’s thighs, carefully aware of the bandaged ankle. Her feet were bare, toenails painted the same delicate pink as her fingernails. She was now facing him, and they shared a small smile before she dipped her head and became fascinated with a speck on her deep-grey pencil skirt, her anger diffusing, scotch taking its place.

“Did you tell Josh what happened?” Sam rested his hand on her shin as he reached over her legs to get his beer, then gave her leg a reassuring squeeze when she didn’t respond right away.

She didn’t look up as she answered, ashamed of the lies she’d told and now had to admit to, even though it was only to Sam. “I told him I slipped on some ice.”

“You didn’t tell him the truth?” Sam was surprised. He knew how close they’d gotten in the months before her swift return to Wisconsin. Sometimes he even wondered if… Well. That was a thought for another time.

“He’d, I don’t know… He’d make me suffer. He’s already upset that I left. If I told him I went back to my old boyfriend and then this happened? He’d be mad at me for being so stupid.” She took another draw of scotch, leaving only a mouthful in the glass.

“Don’t say that,” He didn’t agree with what Donna was saying because he’d seen Josh without her. He was a mess. Late everywhere, losing weight, same shirt for three days in succession – He just didn’t work without her. “He missed you like crazy. I’ve never seen a man unfurl so fast. You’d been gone, like, a day, and he was already five hours behind schedule.”

She smiled, and finally looked up at him. “I know, but how am I supposed to make it up to him? I left him.”

“Believe me, he’s forgiven you.” He reached over and slipped his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Thanks. But I don’t think I could tell him… It’d just…” She yawned. “It’d be too hard.”

“You told me, though.”

“You’re Sam.” She rested her head on the couch and smiled sleepily.

“I don’t think he’d be half as mad at you as you are at yourself.”

“… That was an interesting sentence there, Mr Seaborn. What was it you said you did? Speechwriting or something?”

“It’s grammatically correct, I’ll have you know.” He smiled; glad to see a flash of her quick wit, even in such a serious conversation.

As he watched her, he saw her yawn again, eyes half closed. With the hand that wasn’t holding hers he took the scotch glass from her unresisting fingers.

“Hey, Don? You think you should perhaps go to bed?”

She opened her eyes and scowled at him. Or, at least, she attempted to, but said scowl was interrupted by a mighty yawn.

Stifling it, she started to speak. “I’m fine, Sam. Talk to me about… something, anything but my ankle, Josh, and Dr fucking Freeride.” The anger was back, and though Sam had never heard that nickname before he didn’t need to ask where it had come from. She lifted her hand from his and placed it over her eyes, bowing her head.

Sam held his breath for a moment, waiting for whatever was coming next. He thought it could be a tirade against The Jerk, but he was more than surprised when he heard her start to sob.

Lifting her feet gently from his lap, he placed them on the floor and scooted over to pull her into a hug. She wrapped an arm around his neck and wept into his crisp shirt. He realised that this was probably the first time she’d cried since the whole incident had happened – there was no way she’d have let The Jerk see her cry, at least.

She only cried for a few moments, and Sam kept his arms tight around her, wishing he could do something more. When she’d calmed a little, he released with one arm, but kept the other around her waist. He sat back and she nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Raising her head briefly, she smiled apologetically up at him, blinking wet eyelashes. “Sorry. It’s the scotch.”

Looking down at her he gave her a gentle smile. “Not a problem.” He brushed a few strands of hair from her eyes and she nodded.

Sam squeezed her with the arm that was still looped around her, and she rested her head on him once more.

They sat in comfortable silence now, Donna’s tears and reddened face fading into memory. Sam allowed himself to close his eyes briefly, for it was late and he could barely remember the last time he’d had a full eight hours.

What felt like seconds later, he was woken gently by the hotel manager, who smiled at him and explained that it was one am, and that the bar was closing and he’d have to go up to his room now, and take the young lady with him. His voice was hushed, and Sam realised the reason was that Donna was snoring soundly against his chest.

Sam nodded his thanks, and the manager started to walk away. Sam suddenly had a thought and called him back, asking him if he could possibly page Josh Lyman’s room and ask him to come down and help him with Miss Moss.

The manager frowned a little, but nodded and Sam thanked him again.

It took only a minute and a half for Josh to come barrelling into the bar, buttons mis-matched and shirt un-tucked. Sam knew he’d probably been sleeping, though whether it was in a bed or at his hotel bureau he didn’t want to guess.

When Josh registered the sight of sleeping Donna curled up on his best friend, a taste of bile crept into his mouth. “Sam-”

Sam interrupted him before he could start shouting the whole place down, thereby waking Donna. “Shhh, Josh. It’s not what you think it looks like. She was upset.”

Josh relaxed a little, but he still felt the distinct sting of betrayal. He sat down in the chair that sat at right angles to the end of their couch, and after taking in what sat on the table before them, he glared once more at Sam.

“… She not supposed to drink while she’s on the painkillers. Mrs Bartlet told her that. I think you were there.” Anger punctuated his whisper, and Sam almost snapped.

“She’s a grown woman, Josh, I wasn’t going to tell her what to do.” He paused for a moment, calming himself, knowing the feeling of finding someone you care about with someone else… “I called you because I can’t get her to bed on my own. I think she’s completely out.”

Josh smiled weakly at Sam, apology in his eyes, before switching his attention to Donna, brushing his hand over her smooth milk-white cheek.

“I’ve forgotten where her room is.” Sam used the hand that wasn’t under Donna to rub his tired temples. Josh, apparently startled by Sam’s voice, drew back to his chair. “I think I’ve forgotten what state we’re in, actually.” He smirked at Josh, who nodded.

Josh stood, folding his hands across his broad chest.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’ll take her up. Go get some sleep.”

“Josh, you’ll have to… You’ll have to lift her off of me. My arm’s asleep.”

This made Josh laugh just a little, and Sam smiled a broad smile. “Yeah, okay. Well, if I carry her, can you bring her shoes and purse?”

Sam nodded.

Josh moved around the table and knelt in front of Donna. “Hey, Donna. Just listen to me for a second, okay, sweetheart?”

Sam suddenly felt like an intruder on something precious. The tone in Josh’s voice was something he’d never witnessed before, even when he was dating Mandy… He felt the need to look away, to make himself invisible. Josh, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care or even notice Sam looking so uncomfortable.

“I need you to put your arms around my neck, like that time in Charleston. I know you’re listening to me, so when I pick you up you’ve got to hang on, then we’ll get you up to bed.” He brushed the back of his fingers up her forearm, the skin rough with gooseflesh. It was cool in the bar, but not that cold.

“See, I knew you were listening.” He smiled gently.

He stood, and slid his arms under her, one in the bend of her knees, the other around her back. “Okay, ready now, hang on.” Sam watched in amused disbelief as Donna lifted her arms and looped them around Josh’s neck without opening her eyes or even waking slightly. Josh took her weight and lifted, standing still for a moment as he made sure his grip. She was lighter than he remembered, a fact that scared him a little - She wasn’t even remotely heavy to start with.

Donna nestled into his chest in her sleep, a light smirk on her relaxed face. Sam looked up at the pair of them, un-nerved by how natural they seemed together.

Josh took gentle, measured steps towards the door of the bar, and Sam gathered up Donna’s things and followed. When they reached the elevator to get up to the rooms, Josh turned to Sam and nodded.

“She’s in one-nineteen, I’m in one-twenty-one. Where are you?” They stepped into the elevator and Sam pressed the first floor button. “Two-sixteen. But I’ll help you first.” Sam shrugged.

“Nahh, you go up to bed. Just… Put her key in my hand, and then put her purse and shoes…” Josh frowned as he tried to think of a logical way to carry Donna and all of her things.

Sam fished her key out of the pouch in the front of her purse, and put it in Josh’s right hand. He then put the shoes and purse onto Donna, into the little crook formed by her stomach and thighs. “There. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

The elevator doors opened on the first floor, and Josh stepped out. Donna stirred a little, snuggling into his untidy shirt. “We’ll be fine. Thanks, Sam.” He actually meant it, and Sam knew.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Sam pressed the button for the second floor, and the doors closed.

Josh walked down the corridor to her door, and swiftly slid the keycard in and out of the lock. The light turned red and buzzed. He tried it again, and the same thing happened.

“Damnit.”

Donna laughed sleepily into his shoulder. “In, wait, turn, push, out.” She muttered, not even opening her eyes.

“Oh, now you’re awake.” He mumbled through a smile as he did as she said. Pushing open the door, he stepped through and into her room. The shaft of light from the corridor cast their merged shadows onto the floor of the darkened room. He walked towards the bed, and placed the still limp from down on top of the throw. The door quietly closed behind them, and they slipped into almost-darkness. After he’d picked her shoes and purse up and dropped them onto the floor next to her, Donna curled over on her side, sighing heavily.

“… Maybe not.” He turned to leave, but Donna’s hand reached up and grabbed his sleeve.

“Don’t.” She pulled gently on his arm, and he knew what she meant.

“Okay.”

She released him, and pulled her hand back underneath her head. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and he took a moment to just study the way her body looked when it was at peace like this. He watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing, committed to memory how the line of her body scooped along her neck, rose sharply into the round of her shoulder and sloped along her chest to the hollow of her waist. He eyed the spot where her tank-top didn’t quite meet the waistband of her skirt with hunger, then rubbed his eyes, frustrated with himself for turning her vulnerability into an opportunistic leer.

Stepping softly, he moved around to the opposite side of the bed, kicking off his shoes in the process. He sat down on the bed, cupping his head in tired hands.

After a couple of minutes, he was startled by her fingers on his back, gently urging him to move.

“Sleep.” She mumbled, and he laughed lightly.

He lay down on the bed, chest against her back and arm lightly around her.

“Happy now?” He whispered, lips dangerously close to her ear.

She lifted her arm and draped it over his, linking their fingers.

“Mmm.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes, comforted by the familiar smell of her shampoo and feel of her hand in his.

It was the best night’s sleep he’d had since Charleston.

West Wing memories and thoughts

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 00:31:11 GMT

I don't really know where to start, so I'll start at the beginning.

POTUS in bicycle accident. I don't remember how I came to watch this show, nor what, if any one thing, kept me enthralled. I do know, however, that there are many things that would be different about me if I'd not watched. There's no way to hide or deny that - it's just the way it is. Ask any Wingnut*, they'll tell you about the effect of The West Wing. I'm not kidding, ask. If they're anything like me, they love an excuse to talk about it.

It intrigues me, actually, that a show like The West Wing ever made it to production. In an era where the MTV generation is all conquering, why would producers and networks think that a smart, fast-paced drama about idealistic politics could be a hit? I'm guessing Sorkin is a pretty smooth-tongued persuader, in any case. When everyone else was watching shows where people vomited on a regular basis, were run down by cars and had pieces of themselves stapled to other pieces, a fair few of us were elswhere watching something incredible evolve and unfurl.

In the early years we watched as the staff dealt with issues including confirmations, votes, partisanship and ethics, the republicans on the hill, guns and budgets, the press, executions and religion. The scope of the show wasn't what held the audience, however. It was the bright, idealistic, virtuous men and women who faced these situations with determination and emotion.

We watched because Donna never brought Josh coffee. We watched because Toby gave his jacket to goodwill, because Charlie knows it never goes away, because CJ likes goldfish, and because Jed won't say that word. We watched because Mallory wanted to be there, and because Sam wrote a birthday card. There was a hazing, a goat, the butter Last Supper, poker and The Jackal. There were lies and truths and ethics and politics, and sometimes it was hard to tell between them all. There were long, weighty monologues with pitch and timbre like music, and there were fast, beaty dialogues that left you buzzing and ready for more. There were desires and needs rarely fulfilled. There was life and death and beginnings and endings.

There was a President that could be respected. Educated, well spoken, idealistic and big-hearted. Even though I'm not American, I can see the whole board. I know that I, for one, started believing that maybe, maybe, there was someone, somewhere, who could execute the office of the President in the same way as this fictional man from New Hampshire.

There was CJ and clingy clothes, Donna and Josh and Dr Freeride and Commander Wonderful. Toby and babies and hats. Jed and Abbey and the deal. Sam and California and trapping people at Disneyland. Will and olives. Amy and the Frances Scott Key key. Donna's cats and the supreme court. Leo and Jordan and international law.

There was Rosslyn. There was Gaza. There was Qumar and there was Kundu. There was Morris. There was Fitz. There was Leo. John Spencer. Esteemed and respected, both in reality and fiction. There was Mrs Landingham, there was Red Haven. There were Simon Donovan and Molly.

There was MS.

There was idealism, democracy and a sense of duty. They brought the funny and moved you beyond tears, all in one episode. They wanted to fix what was wrong, and that meant it didn't matter when they couldn't get it done. They needed, wanted, lived to be right and to instruct change, sacrificing all for the greater good.

There was a scandal, a kidnapping, confusion and reaction. There was the father of daughters and Israel. The Muppets, Glenn Close, Matthew Perry. There was the evidence of things not seen, and Germany.

There was Kate Harper and wanting to talk. Donna, a wheelchair, crutches and leaving. Bingo Bob. Full Disclosure.

The goals changed. The ideals changed. Election time, and everything becomes a fight. Donna verses Josh. Will verses Josh. Then Donna and Josh are on the same team again and it feels like maybe, just maybe, they're going to be okay. Then there's Vinnick and Bruno and they're off to the races. Everything changes.

That's the thing that strikes me as phenomenal about this show. Change. Not in the plotlines or in the events or settings, not really in the idealistic nature of the show itself.

The change that has been most perfectly interpreted and conveyed is that of the characters themselves. Not in their positions and advancement, but in their minds and hearts. CJ became more cynical, a love of the game becoming a need to escape it. Donna became beautifully independant, revelling in her new-found ability to be anything she wanted to. The President became a statesman, overcoming his MS to broker diplomacy. Josh became the Leo to his own President, but learned that the job can't be allowed to be everything. Leo taught all of those in his staff, every single one, something intrinsic, however small. Sam had the courage of his convictions, but learned that not everything is poetics. Toby gave his career and almost his freedom for the lives of people he'd never met.

And I come back to change because, really, that's what this show was about. It changed a little something in every one of us. I, for one, talk a little faster. I snark more. I can say things in latin and I can talk about the ERA. I can explain a little about the middle east and dwarf wheat. I can tell you what the budget surplus is, and I can tell you that the President can't pardon a turkey. I can tell you about Shibboleth, and Issac and Ishmael.

More than this, more than any of these things, I can tell you that I believe.

I believe that one day, there will be a solution. There will be peace, and there will be education. Good schools and fair wages and low crime. There will be equality.

No gun crime, no violence in our homes and on our streets. There won't be corruption or scandal.

There will be a cure for AIDS, for cancer, for MS.

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful and committed citizens can change the world - It's the only thing that ever has.

And that, that is why.

*Oh, yeah, laugh at that term. It's okay. But save some laughter for the advent of S60, because then I'll start calling myself a Stripper.

Life on Hiatus - TWW_minis entry.

Mon, 31 Jul 2006 13:59:32 GMT

Well, it's late, but finally I've finished. :)

Recipient: thecolourclear
Character you'd like paired with Sam: Lisa
2 or 3 elements you'd like included in the story: 'I just found out there's no such thing as the real world, just a lie you've got to rise above', and backstory -- just before Sam leaves to join the Bartlet campaign, or somewhere close to then.
2 elements you *don't* want in the story: Nothing past the pilot, I suppose. I want backstory!
Rating Preference (if any): Nothing higher than pg-13

Life on Hiatus

“Josh came to see me today.” He said it without looking at her.

“Josh?” She said it with a vacant lilt, like she wasn’t really listening. She rarely listened to him anymore.

“Yeah. He asked me to-”

“Go work for Hoynes. We’ve had this conversation many, many times.” She sighed the words, calmly, as she studied the menu.

“No – I mean, yes we have,” It was true. They’d had it in many a restaurant - all not unlike this one, their townhouse, even in the street a couple of times. “But now it’s different.”

“You have a fantastic job here, Gage Whitney is going to make you partner. Why, why would you give that up?” She didn’t raise her voice, not even slightly. This was a conversation they had every time Josh called, and she expected it to end the same way as it always did.

“Lisa, I-” He finally, finally looked her in the eyes, pleading with her to let him talk.

She closed the menu and dropped it on the table in frustration. “Seriously Sam, you aren’t actually thinking about doing it, are you? What would-“

“Lisa!” His voice was stern – Enough was enough. He wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been happy for a long, long time.

“Don’t speak to me like that, Sam.” She looked hurt, and more than a little confused.

“Just listen to me for a moment, would you please?” He dropped his eyes to the table once more, and started fingering the beautiful silver fork that sat beside his crisp, white dinner plate. “Josh doesn’t want me to work for Hoynes.” He paused for a moment, waiting for another interjection. When it didn’t come, he continued.

“He wants me to write speeches for a man named Bartlet.”

“Who the hell-”

“He’s a candidate for the democratic nomination. Josh says he’s the real thing.”

“Josh is an idiot. You really want to turn your life upside down for a man who can barely tie his own tie?” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the chair.

“Lisa, please. This isn’t about Josh, or Hoynes, or even this new guy. This is about me.”

“What about me? I’ve got a job I love, I’m happy here. If you turn your life upside down, that’s your business, but what about my life?”

“What about your life?” He was tired of this now. She wasn’t going to guilt him into being unhappy again.

“Sam!” She looked on the verge of tears, and he realised just how cold that had sounded.

“I’m sorry. That was… I’m sorry. But I’m tired of this,” He gestured around them, “This is your life. My life is on hiatus, and I just don’t know how that happened.”

“You want to break up with me?”

“No, Lisa! Did I say that? I want to live, I want to make a difference. I want to, if I can, I want to do that with you.”

“You want me to put my life on hiatus.” There was a viciousness in her words, something he’d never seen before.

“They have reporting jobs in Washington.”

“Shut up, Sam. You know that’s not the point. The campaign, you’ll be gone for months at a time, then, and this is if you win which, considering I’ve never even heard of this ‘Bartlet’, is highly unlikely, I’ll be the proverbial political widow. I’ll never see you!”

“I think that’s not the reason you’re being so… so…”

“So what, Sam? Come on. Tell me exactly what you’re thinking, because Honey? There’s a first time for everything. I just found out there's no such thing as the real world, just a lie you've got to rise above.”

“I think you don’t like me very much.”

“As of now? You’re right on the money.”

“I think the reason you’re so against it is because I’d no longer be cool enough for you. ‘My boyfriend writes speeches for a guy I’ve never heard of’, doesn’t quite have the right ring.”

“Fiancé, jackass.” She stood from the table, gathering her purse and her jacket. “Do whatever the hell you want, Sam. I hope you’re very happy.” She turned and walked out, leaving Sam staring after her, stunned.

He stayed at the restaurant and ate, considering his options. Josh had booked him on to a train tomorrow – the tickets were in his breast pocket. There was a feeling of relief, and he hated the fact that it had settled in his stomach. He could go now, he could follow his dream, and there would be no guilt about not coming home for weeks on end, about late nights and early mornings. The only guilt he was feeling, and it ached, was how he’d hurt her.

He didn’t think that would go away any time soon.

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 17:12:22 GMT

Here's my entry for the Donna leg of this ficathon. Many thanks to the wonderful celbalrai for being a short-notice beta.

For: fluffybkitty
Character you'd like paired with Donna: C.J.
2 or 3 elements you'd like included in the story: A night-flight on Airforce 1, set pre-Season 6.
2 elements you *don't* want in the story: Anything goes!
Rating Preference (if any): Anything goes!

There was a shudder across the plane as Air Force One hit a touch of turbulence. Barely noticing, C.J. strained to keep her eyes open and fixed on the briefing books in her lap. All she wanted to do was shift her seat into the ‘recline’ position and sleep till they reached whatever destination was next on the campaign trail, but she had to keep this stuff fresh in her head for the spin tomorrow – the President had four press conferences, plus she had to brief the press herself on a couple of new initiatives.

As the type started to blur once more she let out a snarl of exasperation. Pulling off her glasses, she threw them down on the pages before her and closed her eyes, tipping her head back onto the head-rest. She breathed heavily, fighting back the tears of exhaustion. It didn’t work, as a single salty bead began to trail across her cheek.

When the warmth of fingers swept it away softly, C.J. startled and sat up, heart racing.

“Hey, it’s just me. How’re you doing?’ The delicacy of Donna’s tone was comforting, and C.J. smiled weakly as the blonde slid into the seat beside her.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lousy liar, C.J..” This elicited a small, fleeting smile across the lips of the Press Secretary,. “No, I’m not.”

“Not to other people…”

Their eyes met for the first time since Donna had sat down, and C.J. felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t focus, I can’t think. I’m exhausted – it never wore me down like this last time…”

“You’re living on coffee and air, of course you’re bound to hit a wall.” In truth, Donna knew that it wasn’t just this – she could see it in C.J.’s eyes.

“I’m not… I mean… I’ll get past it.”

Donna closed her hand over C.J.’s and squeezed it gently.

“Take a nap – I promise I’ll wake you in an hour or so.” It was strange to have their roles reversed like this. Donna was usually the one that was cared for, and C.J. did the caring. That was just how they worked, and C.J. didn’t mind it. Now she felt vulnerable, more so under those sea-green eyes – she’d never liked that feeling.

“Donna, I can’t, I have to go over all this stuff for tomorrow…” She snapped, and, pulling her hand from under Donna’s, picked up her glasses and set about focusing on the papers. In moments she was closed off from the world and Donna once again.

The blonde winced at the clear dismissal like she’d been slapped in the face. Rising from her seat, she straightened her skirt and sighed lightly.

“I’ll leave you alone.”

Before C.J. could look up from the papers Donna was long gone, striding up the plane to the ladies bathroom. She passed a few staffers on her way, even Josh, but made eye contact with none. Once she’d reached her destination she locked the door behind her and sat down on the closed toilet lid.

She didn’t cry. That surprised her. She was upset, and she’d expected to just sit down and the tears to come, but they never did. She just stared at herself in the tiny mirror without really seeing, thoughts streaming through her mind. Maybe C.J. didn’t feel the same way as she did. Maybe all this time she’d been living under a misapprehension. It was true that they’d never gone beyond the touches and furtive glances but even those small things felt like an inferno underneath her skin, and before tonight she had been sure that there was more than friendship on both sides. Now… well, now she knew otherwise.

Still in her seat, C.J. let out a ragged breath and gathered up the papers and books, placing them untidily on the seat beside her. There was no way she could concentrate now. Donna was the one thing that felt truly tangible in her life, and now she’d pushed her away.

That’s how it always happened. She’d let someone in until she realised just how close they’d gotten, then she’d get scared and push them away - always harder than she ever meant to. For a few long moments she stared out of the tiny oval window into the blackish-blue of the late night sky. She could see the darker shapes of clouds like zeppelins moving across the moon, and the stars flickering almost imperceptibly. It was beautiful, a whole world away from the rigours of D.C. life, and she wanted to be able to share it with someone, someone who mattered. Simply, there was one person who she wanted by her side.

She raised herself tiredly from the seat and headed in the same direction that Donna had disappeared in, almost slamming into Josh without noticing. He put out his arms to steady her, and she thanked him with a smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” Josh was eyeing her, and something in his look and the softness of his tone suggested he already knew. As her own eyes widened at the realisation he was more perceptive than she’d ever given him credit for, he smiled lightly.

“Nothing, Joshua. Have you got the schedule all worked out for tomorrow?” She resorted to small-talk in an attempt to disguise her fluster.

“Yeah, he’s going to spend half an hour talking to teachers in the school. Toby’s writing some remarks.”

“Good.” She stared at the floor rather conspicuously, but Josh let it slide. “Listen, have you seen -”

“- Last time I saw her, she was headed for the ladies.”

“Thank you.” The sincerity in C.J.’s tone moved him, and he nodded gently as she passed him and headed off.

Donna started at the light knock on the bathroom door. “Just a second.” She answered, standing and taking a couple of deep breaths.

“It’s me.” C.J.’s voice carried easily through the paper-thin door, and Donna rubbed her face in frustration. “Can I… come in?”

Donna clicked the lock open and allowed C.J. to step inside. There was only a little more space than in ordinary aeroplane bathrooms, and C.J. had difficulty not looming over her.

“I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“It’s okay, C.J.. Don’t worry about it. We’re okay.” Their eyes didn’t meet. She sat down once more; C.J. found it gave them both a little extra space.

“You’re a bad liar too, Donnatella.” C.J. knelt in front of the blonde, which was no easy feat in the cramped compartment. Now they were eye to eye, C.J. took Donna’s hands in hers. “Look, I…”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, C.J., I understand.” As the words rolled off a sharp tongue, Donna started to feel the anger boiling inside her. The claustrophobic atmosphere seemed to make everything fold in and she felt cornered.

“I don’t mean to, but I don’t think you do understand.” C.J. began to try and explain, but was cut off with a hiss.

“Shut up.” There was venom in that tone, but C.J. only saw regret in her eyes, and she didn’t back off, nor did she release her hands. After a moment, Donna’s tone was softer and she started to talk. “Please, shut up. You’ve seen the way I look at you, and I always thought you looked at me that way too. I… guess I was wrong. It’s as simple as that.” There was an almost tactile frustration in the air.

C.J. stared at the resigned woman before her, and then at the floor between them. Then she stood up, gently, and turned her back to Donna. For what seemed like an eternity she said nothing, and the only sounds were the quiet whooshing of the engines and the almost laboured breaths of the woman before her. It became so eerie that C.J.’s eventual whisper made her shudder. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I know.”

“And it’s never going to be simple.”

“I know that too.”

“I want to try, though. Will you let me?” Still C.J. wasn’t looking at Donna, but at her own reflection. The question itself wasn’t entirely directed at her, either.

After what seemed to C.J. to be some of the longest seconds of her life, Donna stood with measured control and allowed her body to rest gently against C.J.’s back. She then slid lithe, tentative arms around the waist of the taller woman. This contact made them both smile softly, and C.J. rested her own hand on Donna’s, intertwining its fingers with her own. This thing they had wasn’t ordinary, and she’d never let it be anything other than astonishing.

Sun, 09 Apr 2006 18:39:59 GMT

Title: A New Tradition
Fandom: West Wing
Setting: Pre-Administration. Early campaign.

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the West Wing 'verse. These are Sorkin's characters.
Notes: This is for the WOSN ficathon. FINALLY finished.

A New Tradition

CJ padded across her expansive hotel suite, bare skin steaming and glistening from her earlier shower. It was late, and as she gathered the towel in her hands and began to pat herself dry, she finally started to relax.

Even after a long, hot shower, her body still ached and her throat was sore. The schedule was so gruelling - They’d all worked their asses off, and sometimes it felt like they were nowhere. In fact, more often than not, it felt like they were actually working against each other. Bartlet was still treating them like amateurs, the polling wasn’t going their way, Josh looked about sixty and Toby and Sam were constantly bickering about the finer points of punctuation - even when there was no impending speech to be written. Interestingly enough, Toby always won these fights - Sam was still a little nervous around him, and was submissive, despite being just as smart as the older writer, just lacking experience. As for her, she still felt like she was fighting her way into an old fashioned Boys Club. The only one who really believed she was capable was Toby, and that was only because they’d known each other forever. The others subconsciously dismissed her, except for maybe Sam, who didn’t quite know what to think – he was probably feeling as out of his depth as she was. It was becoming frustrating, and insulting. She went to school for as long as they did, she worked hard, she knew her job… Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her?

Just then there was a knock at the door. Checking the clock on her bedside table, she sighed.

“What is it?” She called out, annoyance tinting her voice.

“It’s Toby. Uh…can I come in?”

CJ pulled on a long silk robe, a present from an ex-boyfriend, and opened the door.

“What do you want, Toby? It’s gone midnight, I’m wearing a robe, I-”

“– I miss you.” Toby mumbled, rocking back on his heels and looking at the floor.

She smiled softly, and stepped back to allow him to pass her and enter the room. “You saw me an hour ago, Tobus.”

“I mean… I miss us. We used to hang out, you know, go to bars – talk about greatness and life and how we were going to change the world.” He paused, looking around the room, at the floor – anywhere but at her. She smiled wistfully as he conjured memories in her own mind, of him and her and the way they used to be.

“Now all we do is talk about polling, or him, or the press, or the fundraising… I’ve never felt so tired, CJ.”

CJ looked at him harder than she had done in a long time, and finally saw the extent of the weight he was carrying.

“Do you want a drink? Bourbon no ice, right?”

He sighed heavily, and sat on the edge of the large four-poster bed nodding his head.

CJ poured his, and then poured herself a gin with ice. Joining him on the edge of the bed, she handed him his glass, and took a sip of her own.

“It’s not going to get better, is it?” Toby’s voice was barely audible.

CJ finished her drink in one, placed her glass on the bedside cabinet, and flopped back onto the bed. “Nope, not till the next guy gets sworn in.”

“Or the other guy is.”

CJ thumped him playfully on the arm. “Let’s not think about it tonight.” She reached up, and stroked his face lightly. He placed his hand over hers, and as their eyes met they shared a brief smile.

Toby lowered himself back to join CJ on the bed, and they both just stared up at the ceiling for a while, absorbing the silence.

Just as CJ felt her eyes closing softly and sleep starting to wrap around her, there was another knock. Sighing, she hauled herself up and walked over to the door, leaving a semi-snoring Toby on the bed.

Opening the door, she found Sam standing on the other side.

“Hey Sam; You know it’s late, right?”

“I had an idea.”

“And you felt the need to share this idea with me right now?”

“Is this a bad time?”

“I’m in a robe, Sam. Also, it’s late.”

He looked her up and down, and then smirked.

“Wow.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a nice robe there, CJ.” He stepped past her and into the room behind her.

“Thanks Sam. What was your idea?”

Sam wandered further into the room, and spotted Toby lying on CJ’s bed. Without even batting an eyelid he greeted him and then turned back to CJ, open palmed.

“I was thinking – none of us know each other well enough to win a campaign.”

Toby was sitting up now, giving Sam a rather exasperated look. Standing in the centre of CJ’s room, shirt untidily un-tucked, collar unbuttoned and hair doing peculiar things, Sam was grinning like a little boy.

“We need ‘Staff Night’.”

Toby stood now, walking over to the mini-bar in the corner. “I need another drink.”

“Hear me out.”

There was another knock at the door now.

CJ growled, but Toby just smirked, bourbon in hand.

CJ opened the door to find Josh and his new assistant on the other side, looking tired and more than a little cranky.

“Josh. Nice to see you here. And you brought Dana.”

“Donna.”

“I’m sorry. I did know that...”

“It’s okay. It’s late.”

“Thank you. I was just trying to tell that to-”

Josh interrupted, stepping past her. “I got your message. What’s the big problem? Press story? Something on the wires? Did the President make another hat joke? Come on, CJ, I’d almost gotten into bed...”

“I didn’t leave you any message…” CJ glared across at Sam, who stepped in before she threw a punch.

“I left the message. I was sitting in the bar, and I had an idea.”

“A campaign related one?”

Sam looked at all the slightly angry faces in the room. “Yes. In a way. Yes, it is. It’ll make us better campaigners.”

“Sam, so help me god, if you don’t tell us what it is, I’ll-”

“He thinks we should have ‘Staff Night’.” Toby was just taking a moment to absorb the scene in front of him. Josh looked like he was about to blow a gasket, that little blonde who seemed to be at his side all the time nowadays was holding his wrist, CJ had that ‘I’m going to kill people’ look in her eyes…

“Hear me out. We’re not doing well. We all know it! And I don’t think I’m the only one that thinks it’s not just because of the candidates… uh… attitude.”

The others in the room all looked to one another. They did know, and he wasn’t the only one.

“We’re losing the race before we’ve even gotten out of the gate, and it’s because we don’t work together. All the time we’re pulling against each other, and I worked out why.”

“Because we don’t have ‘Staff Night’?” CJ was smiling now. Sam was slipping into his speechwriting stride.

“Because we don’t have Staff Night.” Sam pointed at her in agreement. “We don’t work together well because we don’t play together - at all.”

“Whilst you were in the bar, did you by any chance have a few drinks?” Josh was fighting back one of his classic grins. “Because honestly – that was the worst speech… pretty much ever.”

“He’s got a point though. We need to be friends before we can be colleagues. That’s what this job needs.” CJ moved to stand by the untidy but now considerably more happy Sam, placing her long fingers on his arm. “I cast my vote for ‘Staff Night’.”

Toby still looked sceptical. “We never had ‘Staff Night’ on any of my previous campaigns. It sounds like I’d just have to spend more time with you people.”

“And exactly how many of those campaigns did you win there, big guy?” CJ wrinkled her face in a broad grin as Toby stared resignedly at the floor.

“I guess I could survive one night a week.”

“What do you propose we do? I mean, I haven’t braided hair in a long time, but if you girls want to put on a movie and paint your nails, I could give it a go…” Donna gave him a swift elbow in the ribs, at which the others giggled. Josh seemed to be enjoying all this way too much. In truth, he genuinely thought it was a good idea. The campaign staff weren’t gelling half as well as any of them had hoped, and maybe Sam actually did have the answer.

He rubbed his side in a mock-hurt way. “Hey, now didn’t we talk about you not doing that?”

She grinned in response. “It may have come up, yes.”

“And?”

“And after you finished talking, I decided there are some things that, as your assistant, I just have to do.”

“..’kay.”

Sam beamed at the exchange, but only Donna beamed back. Josh was already headed to join Toby at the mini-bar, and after Sam noticed this fact, he quickly followed. Donna moved to sit on one of the chairs at CJ’s table, just taking in these brilliant men bickering over who was going to drink what, and whether Sam was actually allowed another beer.

CJ piped up, hands on her hips. “Hey, you guys know have bars in your own rooms, right?”

“But our rooms aren’t half as nice as yours, CJ. Plus there’s less women in them.” Josh returned to Donna and handed her a beer, and ducked CJ’s good-humoured swing as he moved past her to sit on the bed.

Toby placed himself on the inexpensive looking chest at the base of the bed, and Sam sat beside Josh, all with drinks in their hands and cheeky grins on their faces.

“You’re all impossible.” CJ said, laughing and throwing up her hands. “I suppose this is the first ever ‘Staff Night’ then, is it?”

Donna looked at her watch.

“Technically, CJ, it’s morning.”

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 00:53:04 GMT

Title:None, as yet.
Rating: Weak NC-17
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairing: Bree/Lynette
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Please don't skewer me.
Wordcount: ~2,000

Bree stood in their lounge, greedily taking in the sight that was before her. She’d watched Lynette painting her garage door for a while this morning, and after looking out of her window ten minutes ago and noticing the smear of white paint on the Scavo driveway and no Lynette in sight, she’d wandered over to see if everything was okay.

Her exquisite mouth curved into a smile at the sight she’d found – Lynette sleeping soundly on the couch. Bree had come in looking for a cup of coffee, perhaps, and a chat, but now it seemed there was something else on her mind. There was a faint smell of turpentine in the air, but Bree didn’t take the time to place the source as her eyes wandered languidly from the bare feet curled up loosely on the couch, across those shapely calves to the smooth skin of peach-white thighs. Lynette was wearing a shirt which she guessed belonged to Tom – it swamped the blonde’s upper body, finishing just below the curve of her hips.

Until now it hadn’t crossed Bree’s mind to question why Lynette wasn’t wearing any pants, but suddenly the idea of a half-naked Lynette dozing on the couch in her living-room seemed bizarre. She let her eyes finish the journey over the rumpled shirt, only half-buttoned, up that slender neck to the curve of pale lips and those wide open bright blue eyes. Bree took a step back, mortified that she’d been caught openly admiring the body of one of her closest friends.

“Hey.” The now awake Lynette started to sit up, sleepily stretching her arms above her head and swinging her legs off of the couch. She smiled up at the blinking red-head. “See something you like?” Bree looked away, at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but into those eyes. She started to mumble apologies, flushing intensely.

“Bree- I was joking!” Lynette rose now to stand in front of her, the rumpled shirt falling loosely around her body, collar open to her sternum. Still Bree wouldn’t look at her – couldn’t. She felt disgusted with herself for violating their friendship in the way she had.

“Lynette, I’m sorry…I should just go.” She turned away to leave, but Lynette’s grip on her wrist stopped her. She didn’t turn back however, and for a moment they just stood in limbo, between what they knew and what they wanted to know. Then, slowly, Lynette’s grip loosened, slipping down to link with Bree’s willowy fingers.

“Bree. Look at me. Honey, look at me, please.”

Tentatively Bree started to turn, breathing shallow and eyes closed, till she was once again facing Lynette. The shorter woman reached and touched the smoothness of the pale cheek in front of her with the backs of her fingers.

“Just because I caught you doesn’t mean you have to stop looking...”

She started to open her eyes, and sighed gently as she saw the warm and reassuring smile that greeted her. Lynette’s hand continued down her cheek, trailing her thumb across Bree’s perfectly painted lips, taking some of the colour away with it. Her hand came down to rest on their still-entwined fingers.

“I’ve noticed, you know - The way you watch me.” The corner of Lynette’s mouth lifted in a tiny smile as the breath caught in Bree’s throat. Still their gazes were locked, and blue eyes saw the flicker of fear deep within green ones. “Are you scared of this?” Lynette took a step closer, lifting their hands into the small space between their chests.

“What is… this?” Words escaped painted lips barely above a whisper.

“You tell me.”

“You’re half nak- not wearing any pants, Lynette.” Bree almost swallowed the words before they escaped, the brazenness of their connotations not eluding her.

“You think I set you up?” The thought hadn’t crossed Bree’s mind till she heard the words out loud, but now she frowned in suspicion. “God, you’re beautiful when you do that.” Bree - despite being used to compliments such as this - flushed softly, while Lynette continued, voice soft and low. “It could just be a very interesting coincidence.”

“Lynette, I… Please. Let me leave.” There was no firmness, no decision in her tone.

“You don’t want to go. I can see it in your eyes.” As she spoke, her hand drifted to Bree’s svelte hip, thumb and forefinger snaking slowly between the waistband of her slacks and the hem of her twinset.

“This is wrong.” Bree whispered.

The anger at that statement erupted from Lynette in a frustrated sigh, pushing Bree away from her as she stormed across the room, “God! Won’t you ever stop being Stepford?”

“Lynette, don’t-”

Whirling on her bare feet, the fiery blonde looked on the verge of tears. “You’re so worried about what other people would think, your so-called ‘propriety’ and your damn pasted on ideals that you can’t even begin to see how much you need this!’ She was gesturing wildly now, advancing back to where Bree stood, stock still. “I know you. You’re not happy. You’ve not been happy for years. Did you ever think the reason you’re unhappy could be the stupid idea you have about what’s right?” Lynette’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, and she placed her hands on the pale skin of Bree’s cheeks, their faces just a breath apart. “Even if you don’t know what this is, I do.” Green eyes stared in disbelief.

“I do, Bree. It’s what’s real.”

Their lips touched delicately, eyes flickering closed instinctively. After a moment of hesitation, Bree placed her hands on Lynette’s waist, steadying herself against the feelings assaulting her senses. She felt slim fingers moving to the nape of her neck as the kiss deepened. She was swimming in her thoughts and Lynette’s words and lips – god, those lips. She’d never been kissed like that, not in all her relationships, or in all her life. There was a simple knowledge in the way the younger woman’s tongue slipped past her own painted lips, slowly and deliberately. Lynette’s hands dropped leisurely to Bree’s hips, her fingers slipping under the hem of the twinset, followed by her palms resting on the uncovered flesh.

The taller woman pulled out of their heated kiss, staring wide-eyed at the blonde in front of her.

“Sweetheart. Bree. It’s okay.” Lynette lifted the twinset higher, and Bree instinctively lifted her arms above her head like a child. Tossing the garments aside, Lynette dipped her head and kissed the pale shoulder before her, sliding well-worn hands over her back. The string of small pearls around Bree’s neck now rested gently on her collarbone, and Lynette’s lips followed the curve with little kisses, till she reached her sternum between satin covered breasts. The skin there was flushed with heat, and straightening, she replaced her lips with her hand, resting long fingers above the pounding heart. The two women locked eyes for a long moment, and a silent agreement was decided upon. This would be their secret. Lynette grasped the pale hand of the woman in front of her, and started to lead her towards the stairs. Bree followed calmly, breath fluttering in her throat as her feet climbed the stairs.

Once they reached the bedroom, everything seemed more surreal. Bree couldn’t really grasp that it was her fingers that were working the buttons of the oversized shirt. Nor could she understand that it was Lynette’s that unclasped her bra and gently pushed her, topless, back onto the bed. Moments later, the long legs that Bree had admired earlier were straddling her still pant-clad hips, and those lips that simply knew her too well were on hers again, but this time there was more urgency, and as she hungrily returned the kiss and wrapped her arms around the slender torso of the woman above her, she finally felt like she wasn’t pretending any more. She never wanted this acute familiarity to end. She was suddenly aware of knowing everything and being known completely. Lynette’s fingers were gentle and deft, sliding over pale breasts and pinching terracotta nipples into over-sensitive points. Bree could feel every touch deep inside her sex – she ached for Lynette, to please and be pleased. It hurt, then, when the kiss was broken, and the blonde straightened. Still, her hands moved across her skin, and Bree moaned softly as Lynette worked both nipples together, and thrust her hips up to grind against the sex of the younger woman. She was spurred on by the groan she elicited by doing so. She slid her hands down Lynette’s back, dragging her nails till she reached the top of her underwear. She started to pull at them, but was thwarted in her task by Lynette’s shifting further down on to the part of her leg just above her knees. An instant later, Bree realised that she was working on the button and fly of her slacks. She lifted her hips to help, and soon the pants and underwear were cast aside, and the younger woman had positioned herself between bare, soft legs. She reached out and smoothed a hand across Bree’s ivory stomach, working her way to the perfectly trimmed patch of hair between her legs, where she could already see the moisture collecting. The urge Lynette had to taste her was almost overwhelming, and she felt her own core ache at the thought of it.

Bree watched as the blonde dipped her head, and gasped as she felt hot breath on her sex. She gripped the sheet and almost cried out at Lynette’s first tentative sweep of her tongue. The blonde’s grip tightened on her thighs as she set up a rhythm, working small circles around Bree’s hard clit. The low rumbles of orgasm had already settled in the base of her stomach, deeper and more intense than ever before. She arched her spine as Lynette slipped first one, then two fingers deep inside her, the wetness helping them glide smoothly. She increased the pace of both her fingers and her tongue in unison. It briefly crossed Bree’s mind that Lynette must have experience in this, to be this good, to be this – oh – this – damn – just there –ah-

“God!” Just as she was on the brink, Bree reached down to Lynette’s shoulders and pulled her up, till they were face to face, bodies flush together. She could see herself glistening on the smaller woman’s lips, smiled as she saw those perfectly pale lips smile.

“Uh uh. Together. You and me.” She slipped her hand down till she reached the top hem of Lynette’s panties. She moved her hand inside them, and sighed when she saw those blue eyes flutter shut. Finding Lynette’s clit, she worked her fingers the way she would do on herself after Rex had long since finished pounding heavily away at her.

They turned over till they were lying face to face on the bed, and Lynette’s hand returned to its previous task. Almost at once they fell into a mutual rhythm, fingers slipping and thrusting in unison, lips and tongues battling urgently and neither was sure who was moaning in that low, erotic way. The sweat on their skins mingled, and as Lynette hungrily kissed her neck she tasted the salt. Bree’s thumb pressed down on her clit, and she let out a harsh gasp. They came in shudders and cries, Bree’s surprisingly loud. Their movements stilled, bodies humming and breathless, till they were lying all arms and legs entangled on the bed.

“Bree, honey, you look so free when you come.” Lynette whispered, the breath hitting her ears and eliciting a terrific giggle.

“I’m serious. Beautiful, and so free.” Her words were sleepy and content, and as she lay her head back on the pillow her eyes closed. Bree leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She waited for a moment till Lynette’s breathing deepened, and then slipped away, disentangling her legs as delicately as she could. She gathered her pants and underwear, then headed to the lounge to retrieve her twinset. Re-dressed and tidy, she shakily opened the front door. Turning, she cast her eyes up the stairs, and murmured three small words.

“I’m sorry, Lynette.”

Fri, 24 Feb 2006 13:13:07 GMT

Graphic by busem

Comment to be added.

Film meme

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 15:40:42 GMT

Make bold the films you've seen and italicise one's you've partly seen...

1. The 10th Kingdom
2. 12 Monkeys
3. 13 going on 30
4. 13 Ghosts
5. 13th Warrior
6. 25th hour
7. 28 Days Later
8. 28 Days
9. 50 First Dates
10. 84 Charing Cross Road
11. Along Came A Spider
12. Amelie
13. Army of Darkness
14. Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
15. American Beauty
16. American Pie
17. American Pie 2
18. American Pie: The Wedding
19. Animal House
20. Arsenic and Old Lace
21. Aladdin
22. The Return of Jafar
23. Aladdin and the King of Theives
24. Amadeus
25. The Anarchist Cook Book
26. Anger Management
27. Annie
28. Any Given Sunday
29. Apollo 13
30. Artificial Intelligence
31. Alfie
32. The Birdcage
33. Bring It On
34. Bring It On Again
35. Bowling for Columbine
36. Bad Boys
37. Bad Boys 2
38. Back Door Sluts 9
39. Bambi
40. Beauty and the Beast
41. Bedazzled (Newer remake)
42. Best Bet
43. Big Trouble in Little China
44. Blazing Saddles
45. Blue Velvet
46. Boogeyman
47. Boogie Nights
48. Boondock Saints
49. Braveheart
50. Breakfast Club
51. A Bronx Tale
52. Blade Runner
53. The Birds
54. Blade
55. Blast from the Past
56. Black Stallion
57. Bruce Almighty
58. Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
59. Butterfly Effect
60. The Burbs
61. Before Sunrise
62. Before Sunset
63. Bringing Up Baby
64. Bionicle Mask of Light
65. Blue Crush
66. Big Fish
67. Bubbleboy
68. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
69. Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
70. Bend it Like Beckham
71. Chicago
72. Child's Play
73. Bride of Chucky
74. Calendar Girls
75. Catch Me If You Can
76. Children of the Corn
77. Christine
78. A Cinderella Story
79. The Color Purple
80. Center Stage
81. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
82. Casablanca
83. Continental Divide
84. Close Encounters of the Third Kind
85. Circle of Friends
86. Casino Royale
87. City of the Lost Children
88. A Clockwork Orange
89. Closer
90. Clue
91. Collateral
92. Constantine
93. Chasing Amy
94. The Craft
95. Crash
96. Charlotte's Web
97. Cheaper by the Dozen
98. The Crow
99. Chocolat
100. The Chronicles of Riddick
101. The Cutting Edge
102. Clueless
103. Castle in the Sky
104. Children of a Lesser God
105. Cruel Intentions
106. Cujo
107. Carrie
108. Duck Soup
109. Dark City
110. The Dark Crystal
111. Darkness Falls
112. The Day After Tomorrow
113. Dazed and Confused
114. Deep Impact
115. Dirty Dancing
116. Dodge Ball
117. Dead Alive
118. Dogma
119. The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
120. Dead Poets Society
121. Dream A Little Dream
122. Dream for an Insomniac
123. Drive
124. Donnie Darko
125. Demolition Man
126. Dawn of the Dead
127. The Devils Backbone (La Esperanza del diablo)
128. Dumb & Dumber
129. Dumb & Dumberer
130. Edward Scissorhands
131. Eight Crazy Nights
132. Eight Legged Freaks
133. Elizabeth
134. Emma
135. Exaliber
136. Ella Enchanted
137. E.T.
138. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
139. Event Horizon
140. End of the Affair
141. The English Patient
142. Ever After
143. Empire Records
144. The Fast & The Furious
145. 2 Fast 2 Furious
146. Fahrenheit 9/11
147. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
148. Final Destination
149. Final Destination 2
150. Fiddler on the Roof
151. Fight Club
152. Finding Nemo
153. Finding Neverland
154. The Fifth Element
155. Forrest Gump
156. Frailty
157. The Flight of the Naviagator
158. Funny Face
159. From Justin to Kelly
160. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
161. Freaky Friday (newer remake)
162. Friday Night Lights
163. From Hell
164. Fern Gully
165. Freebie and the Bean
166. A Few Good Men
167. Gone With The Wind
168. Ghost Ship
169. Girl with a Pearl Earring
170. Grease
171. Grease 2
172. Gladiator
173. The Golden Child
174. Gothika
175. Gallipoli
176. The Green Mile
177. The Grinch
178. The Grudge
179. Gayniggers from Outer Space
180. Ginger Snaps
181. Garden State
182. HeartBreakers
183. Holes
184. Home on the Range
185. House of Wax
186. Hope Floats
187. Halloween
188. Halloween II
189. Halloween III
190. Hackers 100
191. Hannibal
192. The Hunt For Red October
193. Harold & Kumar
194. Harry Potter
195. Harry Potter 2
196. Harry Potter 3
197. Hellboy
198. Hitch
199. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
200. The Hot Chick
201. How To Deal
202. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
203. Hotel Rwanda
204. House of Flying Daggars
205. I Robot
206. I Am Sam
207. The Incredibles
208. Identity
209. Independence Day
210. It Came From The Sky
211. Ice Age
212. Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark
213. Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom
214. Indiana Jones: Last Crusade
215. Interview with a Vampire
216. The Interpreter
217. Jonah: A Veggie Tales Movie
218. Jackie Brown
219. Jason X
220. Jaws
221. Jaws II
222. Jaws 3
223. Jaws the Revenge
224. Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back
225. Jeepers Creepers
226. Jeepers Creepers 2
227. John Q
228. Joy Ride
229. Jurassic Park
230. The Lost World: Jurassic Park
231. Jurassic Park 3
232. Just Married
233. KingPin
234. Kalifornia
235. Kingdom of Heaven
236. K-Pax
237. Labyrinth
238. The Ladies Man
239. The Land Before Time
240. The Land Before Time II
241. The Land Before Time III
242. The Land Before Time IV
243. The Land Before Time V
244. The Land Before Time VI
245. The Last Castle
246. Last Life in the Universe
247. The Last Unicorn
248. Legend
249. Lilo and Stitch
250. Life of Brian
251. Life Of David Gale
252. Little Black Book
253. The Lizzie McGuire Movie
254. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
255. Lolita
256. Lone Star
257. Last of the Mohicans
258. Last Temptation of Christ
259. Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
260. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
261. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
262. Love Actually
263. Legally Blonde
264. The Last Dragon
265. Life as A House
266. The Longest Yard
267. Lion King
268. Lion King 1 1/2
269. Lion King 2
270. Little Women
271. Little Nemo
272. Music From Another Room
273. Mission Impossible 1
274. Mission Impossible 2
275. My Little Pony - The Movie
276. Masters of the Universe
277. The Mask of Zorro
278. Miss Congeniality
279. Miss Congeniality 2
280. Mulan
281. Men of Honor
282. Moulin Rouge
283. Maid in Manhattan
284. Mallrats
285. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
286. Much Ado About Nothing 68
287. The Matrix
288. The Matrix Reloaded
289. The Matrix Revolutions
290. My Life as a Dog
291. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
292. McClintock
293. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
294. The Maltese Falcon
295. Man in the Iron Mask
296. Mars Attacks
297. Mean Girls
298. Meet Joe Black
299. Meet The Parents
300. Meet The Fockers
301. Manhunter
302. Mary Poppins
303. Monsters Inc.
304. Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie
305. Million Dollar Baby
306. Miracle
307. MST3K: The Movie
308. My Boss' Daughter
309. Napoleon Dynamite
310. The Net
311. Net Games
312. Now and Then
313. Nell
314. Never Been Kissed
315. A Nightmare on Elm Street
316. The Notebook
317. The Nightmare Before Christmas
318. North by Northwest
319. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind
320. O' Brother, Where Art Thou?
321. "O"
322. Oceans Eleven
323. Oceans Twelve
324. Old School
325. Oscar and Lucinda
326. Onegin
327. The Order
328. The Others
329. Outbreak
330. Parent Trap
331. Passport to Paris
332. The Patriot
333. People under the stairs
334. Perfect Blue
335. Pitch Black
336. Poltergeist
337. Poltergeist 2
338. Poltergeist 3
339. Practical Magic
340. Predator I
341. Predator II
342. The Passion of the Christ
343. Pearl Harbor
344. Peter Pan
345. Pirates of the Caribbean
346. Pretty in Pink
347. Princess and the Warrior
348. Princess Bride
349. Princess diaries 1
350. Princess diaries 2
351. Princess Mononoke
352. The Producers
353. The Prince & Me
354. Pride and Prejudice
355. The Prophecy
356. The Prophecy II
357. The Prophecy 3
358. Pulp Fiction
359. Pay it Forward 50
360. The Phantom of the Opera
361. Quiz Show
362. Radio
363. Radio Flyer
364. Ray
365. Reign of Fire
366. Resident Evil 1
367. Resident Evil 2
368. Red Dragon
369. Real Genius
370. A River Runs Through It
371. Real Women Have Curves
372. The Ref
373. Romeo must Die
374. Red Pony
375. Remember The Titans
376. The Rules of Attraction
377. The Ring
378. The Ring 2
379. Run Lola Run
380. Requiem For a Dream
381. Rocky Horror Picture Show
382. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
383. Rear Window
384. Rose Red
385. Rosemary's Baby
386. Robin Hood: Men In Tights
387. Sense and Sensibility
388. SWAT
389. Schindler's List
390. Space Balls
391. The Sword in the Stone 40
392. Shaun of the Dead
393. The Secret of Nimh
394. Snow White
395. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
396. Sleeping Beauty
397. The Shining
398. Some Like It Hot
399. Saw
400. Scary Movie
401. Scary Movie 2
402. Scary Movie 3
403. Scream
404. Scream 2
405. Scream 3
406. Secret Window
407. A Series Of Unfortunate Events
408. Seven
409. Showgirls
410. She's All That
411. Shrek
412. Shrek 2
413. Shutter
414. Sideways
415. Signs
416. Singing In The Rain
417. Sixteen Candles
418. The Sixth Sense
419. Sky Captain & The World of Tomorrow
420. Sleepy Hollow
421. SLC Punk
422. Sound of Music
423. South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut
424. Speed
425. Speed 2: Cruise Control
426. Snatch
427. Sweet Home Alabama
428. Save the Last Dance
429. The Sandlot
430. Secretary
431. A Shot In The Dark
432. Spiderman
433. Spiderman 2 25
434. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron
435. Spirited Away
436. Star wars episode I
437. Star wars episode II
438. Star wars episode III
439. Star wars episode IV
440. Star wars episode V
441. Star wars episode VI
442. Silence of the Lambs
443. Super Size
444. Swimfan
445. Swimming with Sharks
446. Ten Things I Hate About You
447. The Terminator
448. Thirteen
449. Titan A.E.
450. Titanic
451. Terminator 2: Judgement Day
452. Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines
453. The Terminal
454. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Original & Remake)
455. Throughly Modern Millie
456. Trainspotting
457. The Talented Mr. Ripley
458. Troop Beverly Hills
459. Twister
460. Tootsie
461. Troy
462. Tommy Boy
463. The Thomas Crowne Affair
464. The Three Musketeers
465. Unleashed
466. Universal Soldier
467. Unbrekable
468. Vanilla Sky
469. The Village
470. Vegas In Space
471. A Walk to Remember
472. The Wedding Singer
473. White Chicks
474. White Noise
475. The Wild Swans
476. White Oleander
477. The Whole Nine Yards
478. The Whole Ten Yards
479. Wild Girls
480. Withnail & I
481. West Side Story
482. What Dreams May Come
483. What's Eating Gilbert Grape
484. Wings of the Apache
485. The Way We Were
486. Wait Until Dark
487. Waiting for Guffman
488. The Way of the Gun
489. Wuthering Heights
490. Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
491. The Wizard of Oz
492. X-Men 1
493. X-Men 2
494. Young Einstien
495. Young Frankenstein
496. Young Guns
497. Young Guns II
498. Zulu

I have seen 160 of these. That's approximately 320 hours of movies. :S Maybe I should get out more?

Tue, 24 Jan 2006 12:17:16 GMT

Damn right.

Now to play some chronicles! *punches air*

... Eh. Maybe not.

Stolen from teh soph.

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 22:21:14 GMT

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Anita_coffee!

Anita_coffee once came third in a Charlie Chaplin lookalike contest.
Grapes explode if you put them inside Anita_coffee.
Anita_coffee is worth her weight in gold - literally.
Finding Anita_coffee on Christmas morning is believed to bring good luck.
Anita_coffee was invented in China in the eleventh century, but was only used for fireworks, never for weapons.
There is no lead in a lead pencil - it is simply a stick of graphite mixed with Anita_coffee and water.
All gondolas in Venice must be painted black unless they belong to Anita_coffee.
The first domain name ever registered was Anita_coffee.com.
99 percent of the pumpkins sold in the US end up as Anita_coffee!
It's bad luck for a flag to touch Anita_coffee.

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 19:58:36 GMT

I'm trying to work up the courage to play 'Tomb Raider: Chronicles'.

Now, I like Tomb Raider. It's awesome, puzzly, actiony, etc.

The only problem I have is the fact that any Tomb Raider exposure seems to end thusly:

Me: Oooh, I'll just make her look around here, see if the little goldeny thingy I need to open that thing over there with the dragons is anywhere. Seems safe enough.
Music: *is quiet*
Lara Croft: *wander wander*
Music: *is ominous*
Me: Umm...
Rabid Dogs: *appear from nowhere* *attack*
Music: *is loud and scary*
Me: Waaah!! *falls off chair, heart explodes.*
Lara Croft: *dies*
Me: *quivers under desk. Sends out for new circulatory system and also new pants.*

So you see, it takes serious balls to play Tomb Raider. Or a slightly less scaredy-cat friend.

... I think I'll play some other time. Yes.

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 13:15:55 GMT

JESS!

http://www.hfpa.org/slideshow/photo/382/index.html

Also - Where in the world did the rest of Mr Jackson go?

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 17:44:14 GMT

I love Jennifer Morrison and everything, but really.

www.flourishmovie.com

View the trailer... It's...

Well. I think I might just shut my head in my laptop now.

Fri, 13 Jan 2006 11:06:25 GMT

pseudomonas me scripsit anno 2005

Pom pom pom.

Jess seems to have an unhealthy obsession with satsumas at the moment.

Weird.

So. I had a good night last night. I threw a brand new yellow pages down four flights of stairs. Couldn't really tell you why... My (new) flatmate must hate me.

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 22:04:53 GMT

Two cups of coffee, and I just nodded off on my laptop. A particularly agressive Blink 182 song ~~made me jump out of my skin~~ stirred me.

What is this, damn caffeine free shit?

Goddammit.

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 18:23:47 GMT

Essay Wordcount: 40/2,500

I AM SO DEAD.

Edit: Three hours later - 297/2,500

Should not have invented the Intro Game.

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 12:54:20 GMT

My blog is worth $564.54.
How much is your blog worth?

Darn. Cheap as chips.

Mon, 09 Jan 2006 13:00:07 GMT

So. We have a new flatmate :D.

Her name is Hannah. She's a fourth year PGCE student. O_O. And I decided that she wanted some babycham at 1:30am last night.

Made a complete twat of myself.

Not that that's unusual.

Fe made an impressive Luke Skywalker and Mickey Mouse (at least, I think that's what she said it was.):

Awesome.

I just made my first Ebay purchase. A webcam/headset combo. Air-traffic-control chic.

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 15:25:13 GMT

I've made an awesome discovery.

Apple, red grape and blueberry juice.

TASTY.

ER Season 12 Premiere 'Cañon City'. Countdown to rant in: 5...4...3...

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 22:23:37 GMT

Gah. ER is beginning to make me cranky.

I miss Carter. And even the characters that remain bare no resemblance to the ones I used to like. Other than Abby. Abby is awesome. Neela too. But she's british. It's a solidarity thing. Spoilers in my rant. Oooh yeah.

Morris = Bleugh. Awful character. I think that's how he's supposed to come off though, so yeah. I'll buy that.
Pratt = Totally a replacement for Benton. I've only just realised this, you know. *is slow* I'm beginning to like him. Just a little.
Susan = *sigh* I miss the slightly... kooky Susan. And the 'girls' club'. First rule of girls' club? You don't talk about girls' club.
Luka = Seriously. SAY SOMETHING ONCE IN A WHILE. I know you're pretty, and I know you've got this dark, brooding 'MY KIDS ARE DEAD' thing going on, but DUDE. MORE WORDS. If only to punctuate Sam's whining. Which is a nice lead on to...
Sam = Woah. Okay, so you can act. I liked the door thing, and the screaming, and the falling asleep at the wheel... But god, woman. ANNOYING. I knew my first impression was right. ANNOYING-AS-HELL.
Alex = DUDE. Didn't you LOOK DIFFERENT last season? Like, COMPLETELY? *checks IMDB* I KNEW IT! Thought you could fool me, did'ya? No wai. You're not a patch on the old kid. Younger kid? *shrugs* Whatever. I liked him. Well. Liked is a bit of a strong word. I tolerated him. You make me think watching a kipper do the can-can would be more dramatic... Wait. Bad comparison. That would be pretty dramatic. I actually punched you (via the screen) when Sam was all sobby and hugged you. She went a bit potty looking for you! She KILLED things looking for you. *mourns the deer* And all you can do is make sunken eyes and pout?! THAT DEER DIED SO THAT YOU DIDN'T! PITY THAT DEER! You can do your J.Lo impression later, boy. God. Kids these days, they just don't appreiciate it when you mow down unsuspecting deer for the good of their health...

... I should take a pill and sleep. This is becoming... stupid. Srsly.