The Lost City

lyric mutant meme

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 00:58:23 GMT

And the whole world has to answer right now
just to tell you once again who's altyronsmaker.

Which song was this lyric from?

Dude. Awesome

I feel like posting a piccie of me.

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 22:48:18 GMT

This is me, two weeks ago. I was at my mom's for the weekend.

Hotlinked on my twitter.

SGA Beta needed, pretty please?

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 22:32:10 GMT

Hi guys! Whoot! I finished my SGA Santa story! Well, not the one I started, that one is sittin' at 12,000 words and still not even halfway done. MY GOD. But the one that's taking its place is done.

It's 5300 words, and I need a beta reader for it. I'd need it back by the 11th so I can do revisions and send it on the 12th. Stories will be going live on the 14th.

Any takers? I'd like the full service please. Characterization, voice, grammar, rewrite suggestions, whatev's in your repertoire. I actually included sex and I"m notoriously BAD at making sex hot, so I'd LOVE some feedback with that as well. Is it funky, does it look weird, did I make either one of them too effeminate?

So...comment and let me know if you'll hit this up for me, please? You'll have three days! :D

A surprise in my inbox!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:37:18 GMT

killerweasel and gottalovev!

You guys made me cry! Thanks for the gifties! That was totally unexpected and VERY MUCH appreciated. I'm verklempt. thank you, both.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Events of Thanksgiving

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 15:42:36 GMT

1. Mom was supposed to go with her gentlman friend to his sister's for TG, but didn't. I think he forgot. *grrr*

2. I went to Deni's and had a good TG dinner.

3. After dinner, we walked all over town. ALL OVER TOWN! OMG. MY THIGHS! also, my face is slightly sunburned.

4. Came back to Deni's and watched the Dallas/Oakland game. I checked my email and found a direct message from one of my followees. Um. Not that this matters to anyone, but y'all Riley Cooper direct messaged me. Wide receiver for the Florida Gators. Holy crap.

5. Freaked out over that. Tried to reply back, but he doesn't follow me. So I replied on twitter. Left it alone.

6. Went back to Deni's mom's for left over supper.

7. got pie.

8. Went to walmart to get marshmallows - had to settle for strawberry flavored ones and toasted coconut ones.

9. Went back to Deni's and started a fire in her chimneria (sp?) and roasted marshmallows until 12:30 am.

10. Checked my email before leaving Deni's and Mr. Cooper had replied to me. Um. WITH HIS PHONE NUMBER!

Way to culminate Thanksgiving, dude. Seriously. Yikes.

Hope you guys had a great holiday! Mine was super fantastic! Whoooot!

holiday plans

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 20:12:19 GMT

Well, I'm all packed! Getting ready to turn off the pc and take it down with me to my mom's. Whoot.

My plans for the holiday include finishin up my SGA Santa story (8,000 words in and SOOO MANY MORE TO GO!) Hope my recipient likes it. OH GOODNESS. Hope to be done with it this weekend. I'd also like to get some shorter pieces written this weekend too. Some J2, maybe some Dean/Castiel, also, winterlive put up the For Your Entertainment vid by Adam Lambert, and I was bitten hard by this weird Jensen/Adam fic. Why?? I think its the crystal eyes and freckled skin. Adam's beautiful when he's not all glammed out. Pale skin with freckles, bright pink lips and jesus crystal blue eyes. And Jensen's got that same freckled skin but with green eyes, and I bet they'd photograph well together. Yummy. Though Jensen would stand way taller than Adam, right? Still, that's a pretty picture waiting to happen.

Had planned to work on NaNo this month too, but yikes. Got about 6000 words into that and it fell apart - not really fell apart, but, um started to suck, and I think it's because I only had a vague plan of what I wanted to do with it. I'm hoping to get back on it, because it's an original piece and there's a story there that's waiting to be told.

What else? Oh! Yeah! Gonna watch FSU get CREAMED by my Gators this weekend. Tostitoes and salsa here we come! Next weekend is the Alabama/UF game, which will determine who's going to the BCS National Championship game. OHMYGOSH! If Gators win, then beat Texas? hells yeah!

So, those are my plans for this weekend, and sometime in there, I'll get some planning done for my observation is this month. And grading too. Jees. Lots to do this weekend!

Y'all have a happy Thanksgiving!

Loves.

A while since I posted content!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 21:32:38 GMT

First! As tagged by gottalovev, I have Meme-age!

Who sleeps in bed next to you?
Most night's no one. *sobs with loneliness*

What did you last eat?
Chicken Tenders and BBQ sauce. Iced Tea.

What kind of books do you read?
A bit of everything, but I've always had a soft spot for Fantasy and Romance.

What are you reading right now?
Texts for work: chris Tovani's Do I Really have to Teach Reading and Champs a classroom management instruction book.

If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?
good question. I wonder if it's a sign of contentment or depression, that I'm pretty good where I am?

What's really creepy?
blank eyes in pale faces. Like hollywood is doing with all the ghosts now, with the black circles for eyes and greyish white skin. Those faces give me nightmares for weeks.

Place you want to see before you die?
Australia, Ireland.

What's your current fandom / obsession / addiction?
Supernatural is the show that I absolutely MUST catch, SGA is the show that I still write about.

What did you really want to do today that you didn't?
Write some on my NaNo story, get into the plot of my SGA Santa story. laundry and cleaning my house.

What are you most excited for?
some free time over the winter break.

What websites do you always visit when you go online?
livejournal, yahoo mail, and twitter

What was the last thing you bought?
three books from Barnes and Noble

What do you want right this minute, off the top of your head?
something sweet and cold.

What's your biggest procrastination method?
cruising my flist and/or twitter

Are there any bits of childhood that you miss?
hanging out with my friends and not having to be responsible ofr anything pertaining to work.

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter?
summer for the extended time off, winter for the beauty of the season.

Say something to the person who tagged you.
I never know how to pronounce your lj name, but I'mma go with gotta luv eve. tho it's prolly gotta love vee. anyway, eve, I'm thoroughly enjoying having you on my flist! you seem like a sweet, fun loving person, so that's totally cool!

and here's another meme concerning desk tops:
→ Anyone who loves a bit of it has to post this meme and their current wallpaper on their LiveJournal.
→ Explain in five sentences why you're using that wallpaper!
→ Don't change your wallpaper before doing this! The point is to see what you had on!

1. I love shots of space, especially the compilations of different monochromatic ones like the famous one of the Eagle Nebula.
2. The idea that we can see into the center of the Milky Way just fills my soul to bursting.
3. Dr. Rodney McKay immediately came to mind when I saw this picture; it's the sort of thing he'd find beautiful
4. I want to go there, so seeing it everday on my 'puter screen is the next best thing.
5. It's beautiful.

and finally a meme brought to you by gatorgrrrl

Here's what to do:

1. Leave me a comment saying "OBJECTION!"
2. I'll respond by asking you five questions so I can get to know you better.
3. Update your journal with the answers to the questions.
4. Include this explanation in the post and offer to ask other people questions.

So I said, "OBJECTION!" And then she asked me five questions.

1. If you could go back and name yourself, what name would you choose? (And you can't say, "But I like my name, I wouldn't change it.")
Hmm. I really do like my name, it's nifty! but if I had to...I'd probably go with Victoria Cherie, or Carol Michelle something like that.

2. What's the worst movie you've ever seen?
Wow. this one is giving me fits! Umm, Probably the Scary Movie franchise films. I hate those things. I never find them funny.

3. Which planet, besides Earth, would you like to live on (pretend they're all habitable)?
Assuming we also had space travel, I'd want to live on Saturn and fly through the rings as often as possible. Or maybe Uranus, because it's a pretty blue color.

4. If you were forced to live 24 hours as the opposite sex, what three things would you definitely do before you changed back?
As long as it was my body and I wasn't forced into any one else's, I'd 1. Find out if it's true that car salesmen and mechanics treat men differently. 2. I'd find out if it'd be easier to pick up a girl than it is to pick up a dude. and 3. see what sex with a penis felt like.

5. What foreign language have you always wanted to learn?
I've always wanted to be able to speak Spanish. But I'd LOVE to learn to write Arabic. That's a beautiful spoken and written language.

Rah. There is me. This journal has been so lacking in content for like ever. I'm trying to do the Secret Santa thing for SGA and while I think I have a decent story worked out, it's just hard work getting it all written out. Specially since I've lost a lot of my confidence. The last longish piece I did got a really nasty review and that just sort of took the wind outta my sails. Bah, I hate that. anyway, I'm plugging away at stuff, and working really hard to get it all out.

also, work kinda sucks right now. Too detailed to go into right this minute, but it's sucky. And I have my observation coming up in the next couple of weeks. Terrific. I hate those.

Observation about how we, as fans, get on.

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 16:41:52 GMT

Have you ever noticed that when you get pissed off, and are really just VENTING about something that language takes a back burner to emotion. How we say what we're feeling is very informal, sometimes loaded with profanity (like mine, *pulls face*) and we're not a whole lot concerned with how other people are gonna react. Mostly because we're not thinking about other people's reactions to our own vitriole. Really. I mean, when I get pissed or offended at something and want to vent about it, I really just don't even THINK about other people; I guess I'm just not that good a person.

BUT, when someone points out that "ummm, dude. You might be hurtin' peeps feelings here," we get formal. Like, "Oh! I do apologize. That certainly did not even cross my mind." We're sincere in our remorse, but it's so stiff and stilted, it gets taken for "How dare you imply that I would be so stupid as to hurt people!"

Sometimes I wonder if we make a situation worse when pulling back and trying to retract what WAS said by offering apologies and the like. *shrug*

Just wondering....

White Collar

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 02:17:30 GMT

Okay, the guy playing Neil Cafferty looks like the forbidden love child of Jared and Jensen and, oddly enough, Jefferey Dean Morgan. Dude.

pretties!!!

Ohhh! Yay. Probie is PoC AND a lesbian! AND smart and capable. Whoot! Cool show, so far.

also, FUNNY! "I thought the FBI had a policy."

"That's the military. We don't ask, we don't care."

Yeah. This fuckin' show is slashy already! New favorite show!

"What's she into?"

"You mean sexually?"

*Neil's eyes widen* "Ew no. I mean existentially."

holy shit.

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 01:52:49 GMT

Hhow the fuck is this shit entertaining?!?!? I don't give a rat's ass that she's all 'successful' in the end and manages to dispatch Nolan. she's still some fuckin' man's punching bag. GRRRRR. And now, instead of just being brainwashed, manipulated, raped and made crazy, she's made a murderer to boot?

and her gettin' her ass beat all over creation in that damn house is entertainment? We're supposed to be entertained by that kind of violence and her murder of that dude? She's still someone's fucking tool. Freakin' Olivia wanted Nolan dead from the get go, and she used Topher and Priya to do it.

This is bullshit.

I call horseshit on this whole thing.

Dollhouse Spoilers

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 01:42:18 GMT

You know, I really REALLY have to take issue with this show's whole premise. yeah. Just..ugh.

However,
Topher(I think that's the little dude's name - the one giving the 'dolls' their treatments) giving Priya her original brain chemistry and letting her go? Wow. That was awesome. Now, I hope she beats the ever lovin' snot out of that doctor son of a bitch.

Still not liking this show, but that bit of business is awesome.

I nearly peed myself just now!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:39:42 GMT

I got tweeted to by Tim Tebow - of course it was a reply to my tweet to him about Saturday's game, but still.

Tim Tebow tweeted to MEEEEEE

I've gone and done it again!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 00:48:12 GMT

Well, it's been a few years since the first time I tried this with disastrous results. I just finished sigining up for NaNoWriMo. What? Yeah.

I'm gonna be doing original fiction this year. No fan fic or anything like that.

It seems that I apparently suck at anything creative. My last couple of stories (other than the ones for mcsmooch) have sucked beyond the telling and peeps just don't wanna say anything. 'S okay. 'S all good. I'll just try something different for a change, see if I can't get things moving that way.

So. naNoWriMo it is.

Also? Heard back from the band. No go. They went with someone else. *sigh* Terrific.

So, I guess if you've ever wanted to blast me, now's the time to do it. It seems that it's my turn.

Umm, thatt was scary!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 05:36:19 GMT

1. my dryer just quit on me. I mean, it could be because I have a large load of jeans/pants/cords in there, but umm, still. FREAKSOME.

2. There's been the faint sound of music through my apt for the last few hours. Could be my ears ringing lightly, though with all the excitement of the weekend games, but still kinda weird.

3. Weird thumps and bumps. could be neighbors being rowdy. Who knows. Bizarre.

Gonna go put my dryer to rights again, get it spinning and blowing my clothes dry, hopefully, it'll stay running for the rest of it's allotted time.

Wrote a little college football porn earlier today (yesterday?) sunday afternoon.

Go. Have a looksee. College boys, sexin' it up after a game.

I mean, it's only gonna cause me to burn in hell for a little while. Honest. OMG.

Also, thanks, flisties, for going over to Deni's journal and wishing her a happy birthday. It really was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day for her, complete with parental guilt trippiness and harranguing. Her fam is whacked out, seriously, whacked out. Nut jobs, every last one of em. But you guys rocked. And I thank you all! *hugs*

someone please stop me!!1

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 16:58:20 GMT

Oh good LORD! I have committed college football porn. For those not in the know: these are the guys in question

Since yesterday's DRAMATIC game against the Razorbacks, I've had this image of Tim Tebow leaning against his doorjamb, nothing on but a towel around his waist and one folded over his neck as he's watching Riley Cooper beat himself up over a dropped endzone pass. Riley's hair's all damp and hanging in his face, his hands falling between his knees from where his elbows are propped on his thighs.

Tim's all, "It was one pass, Ri. Why're you doin' this to yourself?"

And Riley shrugs, doesn't say anything, but watches Tim's bare feet as he steps into the room and closer to the bed that they don't share, never share. Then the mattress dips, and Tim's right next to him, all wet heat and smelling like Irish Spring and Riley tries, he really tries, not to look up into Tim's honest and clear face.

There's no accusation there, just a half smile of exhaustion and hard won victory, and the absolute utter conviction that he can do anything he wants to.

Riley smiles. "Superman," he says, and Tim sucks his teeth letting a frown mar his brow.

"You know I hate that."

Riley chuckles, a dry sound, not fully humorous. "What'd you prefer?"

Tim shakes his head. "I'm just...I'm just Tim. You know? I love what I do, love this game, love this team. I'm just a guy. I mean, Superman? Come on, Ri, you know that ain't me."

Riley shakes his head back, getting his hair out of his face, and he sighs, smiles a genuine smile, and says, "Yeah, I know." Then, carefully, knowing that it could mean everything or even less than nothing, he lays a palm on Tim's thigh, naked under the damp towel. "But look at what you've done, here."

"What we've done. You," Tim says, staring down at Riley's hand, "You were part of that win."

"Not talking about this win, Tim. Talking 'bout all 16. Talkin' 'bout coming from a loss last year and winning a championship. A national championship, man. Talking about pulling this team together time and time again." He squeezes Tim's thigh and takes note of the quick, indrawn breath.

"What are you doing?" Tim whispers.

Riley squints at him, watching his face as he squeezes Tim's thigh again, a little higher this time, a little harder. "Nothing," he says, watching Tim's eyes go wide and wild, and counting Tim's breaths.

Tim catches Riley's hand in his own. "Don't," he says, but Riley slides his arm, the one that's been caught between them, back and around Tim, and he leans in toward Tim, breathing deeply the biting clean smell of his team mate, his room mate. His friend.

Tim looks away, toward the wall, shaking a little, and he squeezes Riley's hand again. "Ri. I can't...I love you, man, I do, but I'm not...nothing against you or other guys who are, but I don't do this," he says, and Riley sighs at the protest.

"I know," he says, "me neither. But I want...just let me..." and Tim stills, takes a deep breath and lowers his head.

Riley lets his mouth trail over Tim's shoulder, feels the muscles tense beneath smooth tan skin. He flicks out his tongue, tasting skin and he knows he's pushed too far. But in the second before Tim's up and across the room again, Riley tastes pure sunlight and strength and faith and he smiles to himself.

When he lifts his head again, Tim's on his own bed, mouth open and sucking in quick breaths quietly, eyes wide. Riley grimaces, says, "I'm sorry, man."

"No!" Tim snaps, suddenly meeting Riley's look with a steady one of his own. "Don't do that. Look. It...it's okay, Ri. Really. No harm, no foul, right?" He chuckles, a tentative smile settling finally on his face. "I mean, yeah, it's a little freaky, this. I mean, I had no idea, ya know?"

Riley says, "Neither did I."

"So. We'll just...we'll deal with it."

Riley laughs outright. "Are you for real? I mean, seriously. I know the sports writers and all are blowing sunshine up your ass constantly, and no one can really be buying that whole Superman gig, but really. I've known you now for four years, and I thought, maybe, just once, you'd break bad and go totally out of your mind, but you don't. Not even over this? Are you even human, man?"

Off Tim's glare, Riley winces. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."

Tim shrugs, then falls backward on his bed. "So we're attracted to each other. I mean, look at you." He waves a hand in Riley's general direction. "You know the chicks say you're like a romance novel cover."

"What? Hell no."

Tim lifts his head and grins. "Dude. Yes." He chuckles, and lays back down. "I think it's the hair."

"It is not the hair," Riley says, then, "Wait. We're attracted to each other?"

Tim takes a deep breath, props himself up on his elbows. "Caught that did you?" He thinks for a minute. "Look, it's not a big deal. We'll just...handle it as we need to."

Riley holds back a nervous chuckle. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Shut up. I'm being serious."

Riley gets up and shuts their door. Locks it. Then he walks across the room and stands in front of Tim, looking down at him. Tim looks up at him, still propped on his elbows. Riley leans forward, slides his hand beneath the edge of Tim's towel, doesn't break eye contact. Tim swallows. "What."

Riley slides his hand over Tim's thigh, his long fingers pressing down into the hard flesh as he reaches steadily for Tim's dick. He bends forward, holding himself over Tim with one arm, and leans in close so their noses brush against each other. He slides his lips, not quite a kiss, over Tim's and says as he wraps his hand around Tim's growing erection, "What about we handle it right now?"

Tim nods slightly, "Yeah," he whispers, and seals his lips firmly against Riley's.

TBC?

OH GOD> I'm going to hell!!!!!

Gator Game

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 21:26:38 GMT

I'm freakin' out, here. Arkansas leads Florida 10 to 3 at the half. Dudes. This is BIG HUGE. Since Old Miss last year, when Tebow made 'THe Promise" FL has not lost a game. Yes, there is another half of football left to play, but my god. They're behind. They've got to come out and put all the pieces together and play GREAT defensive and offensive football. OMG.

BCAW

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 00:13:17 GMT

This is Awesome!

Breast Cancer Awareness done by ball players

Thanks to yin_again for the original link.

Check this! I have to laugh a little.

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 01:26:12 GMT

They - whoever they are - say you should never google yourself. You'll just get to read all the bad shit people never say to your face. True. But every now and again, I do it. and most of the time, what I find is nice. There's been a couple of times when there's been something negative or a bad review or whatever. But that's cool. but overwhelmingly, the stuff I find about myself is pretty good.

This is what I found today. It's on the 'not so good' end of the spectrum. Someone's pithy review of my mcshep_match story. How awesome is this?

"Wow, it took over 15,000 words just for John to realise his feelings for Rodney? This was just bad. The plot was cliched and felt really contrived. It rambled on and on and then ended with a deus ex machina. It would be one thing if what happened actually made sense, but it didn't. It was obvious every step of the way that the only reason for anything happening was that the author wanted to get John and Rodney together. Which...if you're going to involve a mysterious planet's technology and some game that intruders are forced to play just isn't enough. The planet's inhabitants need actual motives as well. Plus the dialogue throughout was just really off."

Ahhhh. I have arrived.

It's Sunday, I'm not in love, but...

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 15:55:50 GMT

It feels so goddamn good to be productive today! Whew!!!

To Do List:

Wash Car ✓

Clean out/vacuum car ✓

Do laundry ✓

Grade Student classwork

Grade Student tests

Create Beowulf review ✓

Create vocabulary test ✓

and it's not even 12 yet. Whoot.

ETA: also, google for html for checkmark. ✓ done.

Mcshep fics for mcsmooch

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 11:31:25 GMT

Title: Plausible Deniability
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not mine, dangit. Otherwise, Fridays would still be spent on Atlantis
Word Count: 1100
Summary: sleepy team, post-mission, John enjoys a little plausible deniability - until he can't.

Plausible Deniability

Title: Home is Where...
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: not mine, yo.
Word Count: 1557
Summary: While Rodney was willing to surrender his spot in the lab, he wasn't ready to go to his quarters.

Home Is Where...

Links go to mcsmooch comm. Cross-posted to mckay_sheppard, my journal, and here. Sorry for the spamming.

How about some sunsets, y'all?

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 09:45:09 GMT

I took these at the end of July, on my way back to Ocala after spending the month with my momma. I was driving down 27, headed north, and the sky just...well...lit up like it was on fire. I had to get some shots of it. the last one is doctored - I removed the power lines and poles, but the others are completely untouched.

This is to the west, at about 5:30. The sun was still high, but turned the whole sky gold.

This is North. I just held the camera up in front of me and snapped the clouds. The sun is in the same relative position as in the first pic.

This one's off to the west again, but the sun is lower.

Here it's down below the treeline. The treeline's thick, blocking a direct view of the sun. Notice the horse shaped cloud?

This one the sun is below the horizon, and the sky is really on fire. The horse cloud is just starting to dissipate.

Awesome, huh?

2009 SGA Secret Santa is here!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 21:23:10 GMT

I've seen this comm for a couple years now, and this is the first time I've actually been free enough to sign up for it.

sga_santa is on again for this year. Relevant details are in this post at the comm.

Please sign up and share the love and happiness that is SGA at the holidays.

Fic: In the Paths of Exile, Dean/Castiel, NC-17

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 08:46:35 GMT

Title: In the Paths of Exile
Author: altyronsmaker
Rating: FRAO
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: some for Free to Be You and Me, and 5.04
Warnings: guy on guy sexin'. Schmoop?
Word Count: 4100
Summary: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Come on, man. I just drove like 16 hours. I'm human. There's stuff I gotta do. Eat, for example. And sleep. In this case I just need like four hours, every once in a while. Okay, so you can like...pop in tomorrow morning.

Another vehicle passed him on the side of the road. It didn't stop like several of the others had over the past four hours. Yesterday, Castiel had been worried for humanity. It seemed all they did was fight each other and hurt themselves. But his enforced exile on the side of the highway had helped him see a slightly different side of his Father's chosen beings. They have such capacity for generosity of spirit. He thought it most unfortunate that he'd had to refuse the several offers of a lift, but if he had anywhere really pressing to be, he'd have simply gone. Right now, he was just giving Dean the four hours he'd asked for.

And it really wasn't so bad on this particular stretch of highway. It wasn't too busy, he could sit on the girder, it wasn't that uncomfortable. The only issue he had was the creeping cold that was affecting the body he was in. The chill in the air kept getting worse as the time wore on, and the body shivered. It made it hard for Castiel to think. The only thing that stayed solid in his mind was the name of Dean's hotel room and his room number. Oh, and the fact that the bed Dean was sleeping in was probably warmed over by now with Dean's particular brand of body heat.

He shivered again. Then he heard another hiss of breaks and the electronic sound of a window coming down. "Hey, Sir? It's getting pretty cold out. You need a lift anywhere?" Another concerned voice.

Castiel stared at the man who frowned from inside his warm car. "No," he said, shivering and his lips almost wouldn't let the word escape.

"You sure, you're...Look, sir, you're turning blue with the cold. Let me at least get you somewhere warm. My wife would kill me if she found out I let some guy die of exposure." The man seemed to genuinely care, but Castiel glanced down at his watch and again felt his body give a shudder.

"I am expected in another location. I'll be fine here for the moment. I thank you for the offer, though," he said, "please assure your wife that I am not now, nor will I be dead of exposure."

The man sighed, glanced down the road behind him, then seemed to reach a decision. "All right. Look," he said, shifting about and tugging his wallet out of his pants pocket, "here's a twenty. There's a restaurant about a mile back that way." He pointed back the way he'd come, and Castiel automatically glanced in the direction he indicated. "Get yourself a warm meal and some hot cocoa, or something."

Castiel stared at the money in the man's hand. He had no use for it, but knew Dean could probably use a bit of food. He reached out and gingerly took the money. "Thank you. I will put this to good use."

The guy looked him up and down and shook his head. "Just be sure to get something warm. Too many people have died already. No need for you to be one more." The window started to roll back up, and the man smiled softly. "Take care of yourself," he said just before the window sealed shut and he drove away.

Castiel pocketed the money, eyes on the vehicle as the man drove away, then scratched at his chest where Dean's amulet lay. It often did that; one moment it'd just be lying against his chest, cool metal on smooth skin, then it'd itch. It never glowed hot or indicated the presence of the Lord, but sometimes, as it lay against his skin, it get to itching horribly. Jimmy had never worn jewelry, but for a watch, so Castiel figured it was just Jimmy's body reacting to the constant presence of the necklace, and he'd just scratch his chest, and the itch would eventually go away.

As he walked alongside the road, the breeze from another passing car buffeted his body, and Castiel glanced down at the watch he wore. Dean had said four hours. It had been five. His hands in his pockets, he rubbed his fingers over the twenty and thought about Dean. He'd probably still be asleep, and when he woke, Castiel knew he'd probably want the coffee he liked so much. Castiel didn't understand the desire for the stuff. While its scent was intoxicating, it tasted burnt to him, and no amount of sugar or cream or other flavor that Dean made fun of him for adding took away the burnt taste. But he knew, after so long driving and only five hours of sleep, that Dean would like some.

It was an odd behavior he'd picked up on in humans, now that he was constantly around them. When they cared for another person or when they wanted something from someone else, they'd offer gifts of what they think the other person would desire. Dean, Castiel had realized, was very simple in his wants. He liked pie—of all kinds, but cherry was his favorite. He loved coffee—black with sugar. Cheeseburgers and beer would satisfy his hunger most nights, and if not, pizza. Music, always there was music. Castiel had a feeling that though Dean's voice here on earth was rough and more often than not discordant, he'd make a beautiful and joyful noise in heaven. There was a large part of him that he didn't often indulge that desired strongly to hear that sound. And finally, Sam.

Though Dean had said he felt good, happy, without Sam, Castiel knew the feeling wouldn't last long. While he believed that the separation was good for them both—Dean needed to know who he was without Sam, and Sam needed to rediscover his own power away from Dean and the influences of their mission—Castiel also knew that neither brother would be content without some proximity to the other. He had confidence they would find each other again, and be the better for the time apart.

He came upon the restaurant and realized he'd been walking longer than he thought. Another hour had passed, and he smiled to himself. Funny, it seemed to him, that time passed so much more swiftly when he was occupied with Dean—either in thought or in deed. He stepped inside and ordered breakfast from the smiling waitress at the counter.

"Will that be all, hon?" she asked. Castiel noticed the swift change in her smile and the way her eyes slid down over his body. He'd seen that look often since taking Jimmy as his vessel. It was a curious phenomenon; he didn't know what to make of it, so he ignored it.

"Also two coffees. Black, with sugar."

*****
The room was dark and quiet, the heavy curtains drawn closed over the windows and the TV off, when Castiel arrived. He set the food on the small table by the window, and carrying the coffees in his hands, crossed the room to sit on the edge of Dean's bed. He set the Styrofoam cups on the bedside table, and as he'd done so many times, he sat quietly and watched Dean sleep. This time, however, was unique.

Dean didn't moan or shudder in his sleep. His face wasn't etched in lines of remembered pain or fear or horror—or worse still, pleasure. He breathed deeply, his lips slightly parted. Occasionally, as Castiel watched, Dean's tongue slid wetly over his lips and left them glistening in the dim light that filtered through the curtains. Dean's warmth seeped through the blankets, and Castiel leaned his body into it. The cold from the road had sunk bone deep into his body, and it wasn't something he was used to. The heat that radiated from Dean, that coursed through Castiel's clothes and skin banished that cold, and Castiel closed his eyes and relished it. The first time he'd been truly warm since taking his vessel.

He swallowed and found himself scooting closer to Dean's warmth again. The bed itself was tempting him. He toed off his shoes and shrugged out of the long trench coat, letting it drape across Dean's blanket covered hips.

Dean shifted on the bed, rolling over and curling into Castiel's body.

Castiel froze on the bed, eyes on Dean's face, looking for any sign of wakefulness. In the year he'd been working with Dean, he'd never witness the man sleeping with anyone. Yes, Dean had bed partners, lovers, but no one stayed the night. Or if they did, Dean did not. So Dean's behavior, while someone else was sleeping with him, was something new and foreign to Castiel. He did not take Dean as someone who would seek another's presence in his sleep. But he drifted into Castiel's space easily. Castiel wondered how far this drifting would go if he were to lie down with Dean.

When he first arrived, he'd had every intention of waking Dean, of getting to work, of outlining the crazy insane plan of Dean's to kill the Devil. But Dean's sleeping, his peaceful in and out breaths, the utter relaxation on his face had stopped Castiel, had him put breakfast on the table in order to watch Dean sleep. He couldn't face waking Dean from what felt to Castiel like the first real rest he had gotten since being dragged out of hell.

Seduced by the sleepy heat coming off of Dean in waves, he took a deep breath and stood, pulling the trench coat off the bed. Then he lifted the covers and slid silently into the comfortable warmth of Dean's bed.

He took another breath and turned onto his side to stare down at Dean sleeping, and Dean seemed to just burrow himself into Castiel's body. Castiel laid his hand on Dean's shoulder, thinking to wake him, but instead let his hand trail down over Dean's arm. No tension in the muscles, no flinching away. Dean's skin was flushed pink from sleep, tiny creases where the sheets had wrinkled beneath him showing red underneath the burn scar of Castiel's handprint. Castiel's breath stopped at seeing that mark. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and put his lips to that scarred skin.

He'd never given any thought to what Dean would taste like. He'd lived a millennia, sexless in the paradise that was his home. It never occurred to him to think about needs such as what he'd heard Dean describe. But since being kicked out, killed, and brought back by who knows what, Castiel had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, his existence in heaven had been missing something integral. And with the first taste of Dean on his tongue, he thought, perhaps, that he'd found it. He kissed the skin again, open-lipped, and let his tongue touch the scar more fully.

Yes, he thought, this was definitely something to be missed.

Dean's breathing changed, increasing in speed, barely discernible, but Castiel heard it. He also felt a change in muscle tension in Dean's arm.

Without lifting his mouth from Dean's skin, he looked up.

Dean stared at him, eyes puffy with sleep, but curious. "Cas?"

Castiel swallowed, and with curious intent, dragged his mouth over Dean's scar again. Sleepy, sexual heat flared in Dean's eyes, and he lifted a brow. Smiling slightly, he said, "So I guess this is why the whore house didn't exactly go as planned."

Castiel laid his head down on Dean's arm, letting more of Dean's warmth seep into him.

"Cas," Dean whispered, shifting beneath the blankets, trying to dislodge Castiel, "I don't think-"

"I brought coffee. And breakfast," Castiel said, not lifting his head.

"When we talked about personal space, Cas, this isn't exactly what I meant. In fact, I think I was going for exactly the opposite of what's going on here."

"You're very warm."

"I was sleeping. That usually happens."

"I was," Castiel paused, frowning as though searching for the words, "It was a long wait, Dean. I was cold."

Dean eyed him, searching him, finally saying. "And now?"

"You're warm," Castiel said. "Very warm. I like it."

Dean pulled Castiel off his arm, pressing him down on the bed. Castiel let his head settle onto the pillow and continued to meet Dean's eyes.

"How long have you been cold, Cas?" Dean asked, propping his head on his fist.

Castiel searched his memory, looking far back for a time he'd last felt warm. He couldn't find one. "Eons," he said, eyes on the ceiling above him.

When Dean's faces drifted into his line of vision, Castiel again met the hunter's gaze. Dean wasn't smiling, but his fingers carded through Castiel's hair. He shook his head. "That's too long, I think," Dean said, and leaned forward slowly. "I'm," he swallowed, "I'm going to try something here. Don't know if it's a good idea, if I'm gonna get the smack down by the big guy upstairs, but since he's sorta in absentia, I'm going to risk it."

Castiel swallowed. "There is no discovery without risk."

One corner of Dean's mouth lifted in aborted humor. "Let me know if I'm on the right track here."

Castiel nodded once, then Dean's mouth was on his, a tentative touch.

If his skin had felt good and right beneath Castiel's lips, then Dean's mouth could very well have been Castiel's new home. Even with the first soft touch of Dean's lips, the sensation of this kiss was at least equal to the feeling of heaven. Castiel's breath hitched, and his mouth opened beneath Dean's.

Dean pulled back, blinking. "Okay?"

"More than," Castiel said. "Again?"

Dean chuckled. "I should have known it'd come to this."

Castiel frowned. "Why?"

"The last time," Dean said, just before kissing Castiel quickly on the chin, "I told someone they wouldn't die a virgin," he paused again, chuckling, then grew serious.

"Anna," Castiel whispered, remembering her. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "It's not," he sighed, breaking eye contact for a moment. "You were doing what you thought you had to. I can't," he met Castiel's eyes again, "I can't fault you for doing that. God knows the crap that Sam and I have done in the name of doing what we thought was right."

"And now? Are you just doing what you think is right?"

Dean laughed outright, humor and something else shining bright from his eyes. "Hell no. If anything, this is as wrong as two people who claim to be holy can get, Cas. You gotta know that."

"Why?"

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "You have to ask why this is wrong?" He settled fully over Castiel, sliding a firm thigh between Castiel's own and rubbing none too gently against Castiel's growing erection. "We're two guys, Cas. I'm pretty sure God frowns on the gay sex."

"Gay?"

Again, Dean chuckled. "Yeah, Cas, Gay. Two people who are the same sex—guy on guy, girl on girl, though that is hotness in and of itself—having relations, making love? God's not gonna be giving those two people free passes into heaven."

"Why not? If they care about each other, love each other?" Castiel cupped Dean's jaw in his hand, fingers stretching up into Dean's soft hair, and his thumb resting on Dean's full, pink bottom lip. "Dean, god may be missing. You could be right in that he has stopped caring about what happens here. I doubt that, though. He may have a history of being vengeful, but, Dean, God is also love. It is His greatest reward to humanity: love. Why would you believe that any expression of that love could be condemned in His eyes?"

Dean's eyes were wide, his breath short and fast in his chest. "I don't...I don't know, Cas," Dean said, shrugging. Then, "Do you love me, Cas?"

Castiel watched Dean's gaze bounce back and forth. He seemed to be trying to catch any nuance of deception in Castiel's eyes. In the face of such obvious insecurity, Castiel didn't know how to lie. "Of course."

The words were barely out of Castiel's mouth before Dean covered it with his own. This was no tentative kiss. Dean stretched and settled fully over Castiel's body, sinking into him, and devouring every inch of him. Castiel breathed him in, opened his mouth and let Dean invade him.

Castiel felt not unlike what he imagined Jimmy felt when he surrendered himself to possession. There was fear and pain (Dean's aggression was unfamiliar, as was the sensation of having his lips and tongue bitten and sucked on), joy and pleasure (Dean's hands in his hair, holding him steady, his heavy thigh rocking into Castiel's hardness), and something like finality and rightness. This was perfection, Castiel thought. This is what heaven should have felt like. He'd wondered why he hadn't missed it, why being on earth with Dean and Sam and Bobby had been more satisfying. Now he knew. Because this joy, this pleasure was what heaven should feel like, and he wished with all that he was and had ever been that he could share this feeling with his brothers.

Dean's hands slipped from his hair down to his jaw, pushing his head up and back so Dean could lick and kiss his way across Castiel's neck. In between kisses and bites, Dean whispered. "Say something, Cas, wanna hear you. Too quiet."

"Dean," Castiel ground out. The word was rough out of his mouth, barely strong enough to escape tense lips, but Dean heard it.

With his hand gripping Castiel's jaw, he growled, "Again."

"Dean," he said, and it was easier that time. Dean's green eyes blown wide, pupils rounded and inky black. Castiel stared into them and lifted a hand to rest it against Dean's face. The name was easy, but faced with the intensity of Dean's gaze, Castiel was lost. "What do you need to hear?"

The thud of Dean swallowing was loud enough to reach Castiel's ears. He waited, but Dean stayed silent. So he asked again. "Dean?"

"Say my name, Cas," Dean said, leaning into Castiel's touch. "What feels good? What do you like? What do you want me to do?"

That was easily done. "You feel good, Dean. I like you. Whatever you want," Castiel said. "I trust you."

Dean's eyes closed, and he groaned, his whole body shuddering over Castiel's. "God, Cas."

Castiel sat up enough to catch Dean's lips in a kiss, swallowing what else the man might have had to say. Then Dean's fingers were pulling at the knot in Castiel's tie, tugging the silk from around Castiel's neck. Again, Dean nuzzled under Castiel's chin to push his head backwards on the pillow. Then those fingers were tugging at buttons and pushing Castiel's shirt open, exposing his chest. Lips followed hands, and Castiel's breath hitched. He whimpered.

Dean growled low, and bit him, marking him with light crescents in his skin. Castiel glanced down at the almost wound, and felt a surge of something powerful and hot in his body. Ecstasy, lust, and power coursed through him. He moaned low, and Dean surged up again to kiss him, opening his mouth over Castiel's in a hot, hungry kiss. There was no escape, even if he'd wanted to, Castiel was caught in this web of sensation. He slid his hands over Dean's shoulders, down over ribs, and flat, hard stomach and around onto tight buttocks. He held Dean's ass in his hands, fingers shoved unconcernedly underneath the cotton and elastic of Dean's boxer shorts.

Dean thrust up against him. "Jesus, Cas, just..yeah..keep touching me."

"You like this?"

"Yes," Dean hissed, and bit gently bit Castiel's earlobe. Castiel squeezed Dean's butt again, testing the tensile strength of the muscles underneath velvety soft skin.

He sighed, "Me too," and pushed at Dean's shorts, shoving them down over his thighs. Dean pulled away from him, shed his boxers quickly and efficiently, then went to work on Castiel's slacks. In seconds, Dean had Castiel's pants open and was tugging on the waist. "Up, up," he said, and Castiel grinned, arching his hips into the air for Dean to pull his pants and underwear off.

Castiel's shoes hit the ground one after the other, then he kicked off his pants, and spread his legs for Dean to lie down between them. Dean's body, still warm and flush from his slumber, felt like fire against Castiel's skin, and Castiel wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, holding him close. "You're so warm," he said, and nuzzled his face into Dean's neck, tongue slipping out to taste Dean's skin, slightly salty and still perfect.

"Ah, god, Cas," Dean murmured, rocking his body hard into Castiel's. "Not gonna last, here," he said, voice gruff in Castiel's ear, "come with me," he said, reaching down to take Castiel's hard length into his hand.

"Oh, that's," Castiel started to say then Dean gave a short tug, pulling the loose skin taut over Castiel's dick.

Castiel moaned and thrust his head back into the sheet, arching his body in ecstasy.

"Oh yeah," Dean groaned, "Me too, Cas. Touch me." And Castiel, who since meeting Dean had been unable to deny him anything, reached down and took Dean's hard length in hand. Dean pulled back and met his eyes, entreating him with raised brow and a nod to do what Dean did. When Dean pulled, none too gently on Castiel, Castiel copied the movement with his own hand on Dean.

They worked each other over, tightening and loosening their grasps in order to make it last, but the tension was building. Dean held himself tighter and tighter, moving his hand faster and faster, and Castiel had to pay hard attention to what was being done to him in order to copy it on Dean. Then Dean broke his silence. His hand fisted in Castiel's hair, lips resting on Castiel's, he said, "Touch me, Cas," like he was starved for the simplest of caresses.

Castiel placed his free hand on Dean's ribs, fingers curving gently over their curves, nails scratching lightly at sensitive skin. He rubbed Dean's flank, smooth skin buckling with the movement of Dean's hips, as Castiel tried to keep up with him. Dean's forehead rested on Castiel's shoulder, and small moans kept spilling from his throat, and as though hit with the sudden need, his body on fire with it, Castiel buried his fingers in Dean's hair and lifted his head.
He had to see Dean's face. If he was anywhere as close to completion as Castiel felt—for nothing could feel this intense without soon coming to an end—then Castiel wanted to see it.

But Dean's eyes were closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth like he was trying to ward off the finish.

"Dean," Castiel said, "let it...let me."
And it was hot, almost burning, when Dean came, quick splashes of fire over Castiel's stomach and chest. Dean's aborted breaths, almost words spilling from his mouth. "Cas...God...fuck." Then he collapsed, body falling heavily onto Castiel's. Castiel petted him, free hand still running down the length of Dean's back in soothing strokes. Dean rolled his shoulders, elongating his back, prolonging the caresses. Castiel chuckled, as he was reminded of a cat after a heavy meal.

"Mmm," Dean groaned. He lifted his head to look Castiel in the eye. "You didn't",

"No," Castiel said, but leaned up to kiss Dean. "But I suspect we'll be doing this again?"

Dean chuckled. "Cas, dude. Give me...thirty minutes. Tops." Dean rolled off of Castiel onto the bed and patted his stomach. "And some breakfast. Maybe some coffee. Then I'll be good to go." He glanced over at Castiel.

Castiel idly rubbed his hand through the rapidly cooling and sticky mess on his chest and stomach, then lifted his finger to his mouth, curious. Salty, like Dean's skin but more intense, he thought. When he glanced up at Dean's face, those green eyes were ablaze again, and Dean said, "Fuck it. Breakfast can wait," and leaned back over Castiel to kiss him again.

Those were the last coherent words either of them spoke for hours.

SPN: 5.03 Free to Be You and Me

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 04:00:13 GMT

Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel for the muthafuckin' win!

Cas. We've talked about this. Personal space.
My apologies. *chelle loves*

I like this seperation the buys are enduring - because that's what it is - enduring. They need the time apart. and I can buy that Dean is relieved to not be so ACTIVE in his worry, but I do not buy that he's happy alone. He doesn't function well alone. He doesn't function at all actually. This feel more permanent to him, and he's freaked out buy it, even if he is less stressed. No way on god's green and verdant earth is Dean at all happy.

now for some speculation:
authoressnebula had some speculative statements last week in her journal about why Jess was going to be there. I knew from the moment she opened her recriminating mouth that she was actually Lucifer. I just knew. Here's my specs.

Michael and Lucifer are angels. We've heard all of the angels call each other brothers and God is their father. What if...throughout history, Michael and Lucifer have played out a sibling rivalry? What if they've been influencing brothers (Cain and Abel to start and for time immemorial others) to pit themselves against each other? The demons have wanted Lucifer free, they want him to have a chance to fight again and win the fight with his brother, and so they got these two guys, Sam and Dean and now they're pitted against each other in the rivalry mother to end all sibling rivalries.

It would no surprise me if Sam HAS to let Lucifer take him as his vessel, and in so doing forces Dean to let Michael take his vessel. THEN the two angels battle it out, and the boys lose. I can see Kripke doing that.

Another thing I can see is that Sam and Dean deal - in the best way they know how - with the bullshit that is their lives and they both tell Michael and Lucifer to fuck off, and if they want this world, they'll have to go through the united we stand Winchester brothers. And God is gonna send in the daddy. I hope, beyond all freakin reason that John comes back at some point in this season. I'd love to see him visit Dean and say he was wrong. That he never should have told Dean that he may have to kill Sam. Because it's been ever since that moment that Dean has been careful, has been stressed, and has not trusted his brother completely. JOhn comes and says he was totally wrong, and Dean - fighting it at first - buys into it and goes to find Sam who has had his own visit with his dad. "Stop being an idiot and go to your brother. You can't let these two fucktards, Michael and Lucifer, take this planet. The only way to stop them is to stand united against them." And Sam finds Dean, they tell the angels and demons to fuck off, and when all is said and done, they ride off, bloody, into the sunset in the Impala with Castiel left standing in the hot Mojave Desert watching that Black Beauty drive off.

The parallels between the brothers was beautifully done. The one liners were great.

I'm a little disappointed that Cas is almost ALMOST becoming a caraciture of what he was last year, but he's spending more time around humans AND has lost some of his angel mojo, so maybe the influences of human life are finally getting to him. Cool. But I don't want to see him lose that edge that made him so damn interesting last year. don't make him a woobie. Nobody wants woobie cas.

All in all, I liked this episode.

And Kripke is listening wrt the treatment of race in the show. last ep: Rufus. Wasn't evil, didn't die. Was integral to the plot. Whoot!

This ep: the sheriff deputy. Good guy, not stupid, healthily skeptical of Dand and Cas. yay!
The Hunter. Scary capable, NOT the one to die at the hands of Demons. NOT hunting Sam, NOT evil. Just...doing the job.
Raphael's vessel. He's not dead, just...on hold, I guess. AND he's still alive. Very good performances from all of them.

I've always wnated to do this meme!

altyronsmaker@yahoo.com — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 21:46:41 GMT

as seen on several flisties journals:
The Handwriting Meme:

1. Write your username.
2. Write your 2 favourite bands/groups of the moment.
3. Write something you ♥, aka lemme see your heart.
4. Write the name of your favourite person of all time.
5. Write the name of your recent favoured person.
6. Tag 6 people to do this meme

I wish it could be neater, but it's so much better than it was when I was in school. *sigh*