remember when i was so strange and likeable

Sat, 17 Feb 2007 02:13:01 GMT

Title: Some Blue December I'm Through the Moon
Author: orangesky33
Fandom: Heroes and Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Peter Petrelli/Rose Tyler, a bit of Rose/Doctor, if you really squint, and bit of Claude
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,109
Spoilers: H:1x12 "Godsend" DW: 2x13 "Doomsday"
Summary: Peter has something to tell Rose.
Disclaimer: I own neither. And I found inspiration from Mike Doughty's "I Hear the Bells" and the fab kammgirl who came up with this pairing (to my knowledge, don't yell at me if your weird cousin Steve or whoever thought of it first blah blah) all awesome-like.
Warnings: I don't know/can't remember what the hell Peter's apartment complex's exterior looks like, so I made it up. Sue me. Plus, FLUFFY.
A/N: Unbetaed as of always. Yes, I suck. Also, I dedicate this to Kammi and Peter himself, given the super angst I threw on him in my last fic that he appeared in. What better way to sooth him than with my dear Rose who is awesome. :]

**

Rose makes her way down the New York City street, and even after almost seven months here the environment still makes her mouth position into a slight smile.

It's not that she has forgotten. Even slightly.

Never will anything in this world compare to the ones in his hands, and that's just facts. Also, it is not that she's happy now.

Most of the time happiness still just seems like a conspiracy of films and snow globes and those dreams of hers, listless and near forgotten. So, she just daydreams and places herself away from it all again.

However, she can't say there isn't a life in the multi-colored bodies walking past and the surely hundreds of sounds calling through the air, grabbing the beaming city lights and dancing with them over a December sky in defiance.

She never got to travel to New York in her world, admittedly, but she's almost sure that rather than loosing itself to this reality, it has gained something.

She reaches her intended destination, the rough blue-grey building with the large burgundy door.

The walls of the building hold their own against the sky, secure in the smooth, aged human made-quality of themselves.

Rose makes her way inside.

Up the darkened stairwell she travels, until she has reached the brown door. The door that is now a firm acquaintance of hers.

She knocks and he answers and she can't help but smile.

"Hey."

"Hey, Rose. C'mon in."

Peter looks at her with dark, bright eyes and his hair slightly in his face. Rose smiles a bit as she walks in. Darn his adorable hair.

"Sorry I'm late; call from my mum about my life's status. Apparently it's gotten to be quite a mess. So, what exactly is the big news? Are you taking me to that ball game today?"

He smiles.

"No, not just yet. But I'm sure we can go this weekend, if you'd like?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

He smiles, some more, and then looks down. Then, he's positioned upward again, more serious this time.

"The reason I called and asked you over, though, is because I feel I need to tell you something."

"Uh-oh. The words that every girl loves to hear."

"No, no. Nothing like that...There's something I want to tell you about me...I've wanted to for a while, but it just never felt quite right, you know? And since we're friends and now maybe moving into something else..."

He catches her eyes with a meaningful glance and she returns it lightly and then looks down to the floor, a bit nervous and still guilty.

"I figured it was time to fess up."

"Uh-oh...again. You don't strangle puppies do you?"

"Ha. No, nothing homicidal or particularly illegal, I swear. You might find me to be strange, though."

Genuine uncertainty glimmers in his eye.

"I'm listening." She states, sincerely.

"I have this ability. Well, abilities, really. I know other people, that posses them in their true forms. They can fly, reassemble themselves when injured, even, travel through time.... Well, I can absorb these things. And if I think about it just the right amount, focus, watch..."

He holds out his left arm and focuses intently on nothing Rose can view, then, suddenly, his pinkly flesh and solid fingers begin to fade to solid air.

"See." He looks to her in a way that's hopeful but fair, not expecting exactly what he wants.

She stares blankly, mesmerized by the place where his fingers once were. She becomes even more transfixed when they begin to reappear.

"So, Rose?...What's your position on this? Do you..."

"HA HA..." Rose laughs, to Peter's surprise, an ecstatic sort of laugh. She jumps from her spot on the couch, divided from his chair by the stiff coffee table between them, and secures herself on his chair's arm, placing her arms tight around his neck.

"This is wonderful! Just...Great! Plus, now, I'm sure you'll understand..."

"What? Do you have powers, too!?"

"No no...Bollocks, I wish I did." She beams and lets out a "ee!" noise into the air, which causes Peter's already existing grin to lift its corners to new heights.

"So, I can take this as 'not freaked out', then?"

"Yeah!" She looks into his eyes with eyes that beam as brilliantly as her cherry red mouth.

Then, he's near her face and taking a warm kiss from her mouth and her fingers are sliding into his hair and, finally, over the back of his white neck, beneath the black locks.

It's only their second kiss to date, but it seems to echo with a faint sort of truth that makes her body tingle just a bit. Finally, it means something more than a kind and solid body near her.

Then, the door is opened and a man stands in the threshold, watching them, shades of embarrassment on his frowning face.

Peter finally opens his eyes and then lets out, Rose's lips still between his own a bit, "Claude!..."

"Hi!... hi Claude." Rose runs her fingers through her hair, an embarrassed grin on her lips.

"Do I know you, then?" the Claude in question asks her.

"Hi, I'm Rose." She waves slightly.

"Ahhhh, Rose. The blonde in the Union jacket you were looking for today?"

"Yes. This is her. Rose, this is my friend Claude."

"Well hello." He states with a gruff sort of disinterest.

"Hi...again....well, I need to fix my...lipstick. I'll be right back, okay?" Rose states to Peter with a amused look and another glance towards Claude.

"Okay."

He lets her up and watches her go.

"Aw, hate to see them go, but love to watch them leave." Claude snarks.

"I like this girl, okay? Will you stop...doing that!"

"What?! I have no obligation to like the girl you like. We're not school lads, you know? God, next you'll be asking me to pass her notes with little hearts on them."

"Whatever."

"So, you'll meet me on the roof then later. No distracting yourself with Rose."

"I'll be there."

Rose comes back from the bathroom and leans down and softly hugs him, placing her lips lightly against his temple and secretly putting a small square of paper in his palm.

"See you later, okay?" She says sweetly.

"Yeah."

"Lovely to meet you, Claude."

"Back at ya, hon."

She makes her way out of the apartment and after she's gone, Peter unfolds the note in his hand.

"Meet you later on the roof... My turn.

-Rose"

Peter can't help but grin down at the tiny secession of cartoon hearts that she's doodled at the bottom of the page as Claude inquires what he is doing.

**
Fin.

shiny yellow bow

Mon, 12 Feb 2007 04:51:00 GMT

Title: Battle
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Nathan/Peter (Petrellicest!)
Rating: NC-17 (for angsty bromance and brother fucking)
Summary: Nathan grabs his arm, and he manages to pull away. However, he grabs at it a second time, and this time there's no way out.
Spoilers: Hardcore spoilers for 1x14 "Distractions"
Warning: Did I mention the bromance and brother fucking? Yeah. Also, some cursing, too. Oh and unbeta-ed. So mistakes? I'm the one you scold/punch in the face.
Disclaimer: Obviously, not mine. Dammit! I really want Peter and his emo bangs. *puppy eyes at Heroes PTB*
A/N: All for darling KARLA!!!!!!! HAPPY BROMANTIC B-DAY, SWEETIE. I started this as simply bromanitc 'foreplay', but then angsty, aroused!Peter made it full-scale porn, and yes, I'm a hypocrite. But NO PRANKS (as with Winchesters). Which yay! *hell* Hope you enjoy! *crosses fingers*

*******

"She's your what?"

"Daughter, Peter." He says solemnly, in that tone that suggests no ounce of blame should ever be traced back to him.

How well Peter knows that tone, from his early adolescence especially. Back when Nathan had bailed on birthdays and soccer games all for the purpose of doing whatever.

"Well that's...that's just fucking great. Man, have you literally had sex with the entire populace of New York City or only a gracious half? Jesus, Nathan."

He makes his way over to the apartment's door, his fingers shaking and his heart pounding like it might explode. God.

"Peter..." Nathan says, more annoyance than anything apparent in his rising voice.

Nathan grabs his arm, and he manages to pull away. However, he grabs at it a second time, and this time there's no way out.

"Peter..." he repeats softly.

Peter feels a pang of sensation in his stomach, his eyes wary and careful not to look into the devil's trap that is Nathan's intent gaze on him.

Again, Nathan resorts to force, turning Peter around to face him and intently grabbing his focus with his gaze.

He gives him the look. The ones that makes Peter's body shiver and sweat, his eyes wide open, as he lies in bed at night and the image dances hauntingly around in his head.

"Peter you know it was before..." Nathan leaves the sentiment for the grandeur of placing his face painfully near Peter's, now multi-tasking keeping eyes locked on Peter's shifting eyes and his slightly open mouth.

"I'd never intentionally do that to you." He softly lies.

He makes his lips almost pieces of art as he lets the politically-inspired, magic words litter the air.

Nathan sweetly kisses Peter's forehead and then goes in for the clincher, pressing his lips against Peter's and abandoning his grip on his arm in order to instead secure it about his waist.

After all, he doesn't need the confinement now. He's won. Like he always has.

Peter keeps telling himself not to give back; it can go nowhere if he doesn't give back. Resistance is all he's got.

However, as Nathan's smooth lips clench his own, already captured due to their opened status before, and Nathan's wet, hot tongue clashes against his mouth, he can't help feel his loins shiver and his penis begin to rise a bit against his jeans.

It's over. Nathan doesn't have to say anything else.

Peter doesn't pull away when Nathan begins to undresses him and brings his now huge erection into the reality of the faint light that streaks through the blinds of the blue-grey room.

Nathan strokes his fingers across it lightly, looking on Peter all the while, no remorse it his gaze as he does so. Jesus.

Peter feels his mind might fail due to all the sensations, many nausea and its related feelings, many not, that go through him.

It only get worse as Nathan takes off his suit jacket and tie.

He presses against Peter, his way of demanding Peter to undress him, get all the more close to fucking himself over. Both literally and figuratively.

Peter feels only strings away from being a puppet, as he unbuttons gently the crisp lavender shirt against Nathan's skin and slides his fingers against the firmness and warmth of it.

Nathan smiles. The smile that almost makes Peter moan right then and there.

Suddenly, they both focus on getting Nathan's black pants undone, and Nathan begins to forcefully take from Peter's mouth. His long fingers going through Peter's long, black bangs.

They move to the unmade bed. And in a way that is almost combative, they position themselves for sex, rolling about.

Naturally, Nathan's on top, holding Peter down with his weight and skin and the heated look in his eye.

"Baby..." He whispers through clenched teeth, as he makes his way into Peter.

Peter knows he's probably said that in the exact same tone to every girl, and possibly other guy, he's had between his black sheet and glistening skin. It's a clique.

But it doesn't stop Peter from grunting and hungrily taking from Nathan's mouth. His eyes closed and his submission's complete. He's lost; it's decided.

He moans into Nathan's mouth and then, not by purpose so much, but inevitably, he seems to give a look of sensuous pleasure-fulfillment, given the way Nathan looks at him. As if, he might pleadingly moan himself.

Peter thinks maybe he's not as defeated as he thought. Perhaps in a new way, he's got some headway.

The rest of it's what's to be expected: sweat and moans and clashing of flesh and hands and hair.

Then it's over, and, as with any end, it's unsettling and bizarre.

Peter lies back and tries not to look into his brother's face.

Nathan takes a cigarette from his nearby pants and lies back himself. He takes in the cigarette with a slightly contemplative look on his face (Peter breaks his resolution and searches his face), but even more than that, a numbness.

After the light that made it's way in has almost completely faded to a dark blue and Peter is almost made fully a product of his emotions from the silence and way Nathan's ultimate little lesson has burned itself into his brain, Nathan gets up and begins to collect his clothes and dresses himself.

Finally, Peter breaks the silences, as Nathan buckles his belt.

"But she's a good kid, you know?"

"Yeah. I've met her."

"Just promise me....you won't hurt her, okay?"

"I'll try not to." Nathan states lowly, maybe sincerely. Probably not.

Peter looks down and can feel Nathan looking on him, unsaid sentiment lingering in the way the glance feels on him.

Then, without even a "goodbye", Nathan grabs his jacket and leaves. As the door closes firmly, Peter closes his eyes tight and feels rushing tears begin to well up in them.

Fin. Petrellicest angst

Personal note to Peter:Awww, Peter, I'm sorry for making you highly fucked up and making you fuck your brother and then cry. *cuddles* Sincerely, Beth

Sun, 11 Feb 2007 19:07:19 GMT

Title: Saturday Morning
Author: orangesky33
Rating: G
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Pairing/Characters: Mac/Dick
Disclaimer: Not my characters yada yada yada. *pouts*
Spoilers/Warnings: 2x22 (vague, vague allusions)
Summary: Blah blah blah utter and total domestic! Mac/Dick fluff blah blah blah. Simply, what a boring Saturday morning at the laundry mat will get you. Takes place ~~in a galaxy far, far away~~ some time in the future, sort of, I guess?
Author's note: For 15north and devylish. And, okay, me too. (Given certain allusions to a certain clip show that I missed this weekend with a certain fallback boyfriend of mine.) Unbeta-ed, so if there are any serious comma, sentence, or spelling errors that I missed, I'm the one you scold/snic attack dogs on/throw tomatoes at. :]

********

Mac awakens with the white sun's glow on her face and rises from his empty bed, groggily making her way into the suite's living room. She pulls a wool blanket from its lazy position on the couch and wraps herself up in it.

The television is on, and as Bam Margera places gerbils all over a sleeping Rake (Why does anyone sleep on this show, anyway? Mac questions), Dick makes his way into the room in his robe, a bowl of Fruity Peebles the size of Texas in one hand and the cereal's accompanying box in the other.

He grins when he sees her on the couch, and she can't help but grin back.

"Hey." she says.

"Hey, Ghost World. Mornin'."

He lays down the bowl and box on the coffee table and goes in to kiss her.

She places her wrist over her mouth timidly before he can do so.

"There's an extra brush under the sink." He states.

"I'll be right back." she mumbles through her skin and jumps up, making her way to the bathroom.

After she has thoroughly brushed her teeth and tongue and swigged around some mouth wash, she comes back and resumes her position on the couch.

"What were we doing? Oh yes." She says and grins as he laughs and takes a long, tender kiss from her newly fresh mouth.

It's still damn weird to think about Dick "Bright Abbot by way of the Anti-Christ" Casablancas as "tender", even after the last couple of days. Had Mac ever thought to consider this in high school, she knew her ultimate guess would have been that Dick had the capabilities to be about as tender as a viper.

However, at risk of stealing sentiment from a Beauty and the Beast tune, there's something "new" about him, some kind of quirkiness and kindness in his statements and looks. Or so it is in their solitary confinement.

How (the why was all too apparent and the reason for her being here) still remains an engima to her, maybe even scares her a bit, in case he is a V style alien impersonating Dick of yore.

"You're quiet; you okay?" he inquires.

"Sure, fine...so, I see you've hooked yourself up with a breakfast worthy of champions; "champions" in this instance, of course, meaning the entire populace of Ethiopia."

"Indeed. It takes a lot of energy to be this awesome, baby. Wanna a bite?"

"Yep. Sure thing."

He dips his large spoon in the blue bowl and provides a heaping supply of colorful, fruity flakes.

"You're not going to spoon feed me, are you?" She asks with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ew. God, no. Despite the fact that we are playing things rather Dick Van Dyke, that's just... nauseating."

"Yeah." She agrees with a slight giggle, and after a moment's silence, suddenly, she has the courage to ask.

"But, about this Dick Van Dyke thing? I mean....do you.."

"What? Think it is going to last?"

"Yeah." She admits, genuinely.

"Honestly, I don't know. I've never done this. At least, without it going a bust, pretty quick-like."

"Me either." She breathes.

They let the silence pass between them.

Dick begins to occupy himself with the cereal box in front of him. He digs within the inside bag noisily, until he produces his desired prize.

"Avatar spoon?" He asks.

He holds it out to her with searching eyes.

"Yeah. Thanks, Dick."

She smiles and then looks down and gently brushes her fingers over the plastic Opa likeness.

He picks up the massive bowl and holds in between them, allowing her to get her spoon in as well. They eat between them, and Dick changes the channel.

"Oooo. Soup." He states when he hits the E! Network.

As Joel McHale enters the screen and begin to bash the Seacrest, Mac and Dick both laugh and continue with their eating.

Over the next thirty minutes, both find themselves laughing deeply and numerously between bites and snagged glances (taken from one as the other is for sure focused on the screen or the dipping of their spoon).

Sometimes around the "Clip of the Week" segment as Lou gets snipped and Dick cracks up ("Poor, poor Lou!" Mac exclaims, with a slight chuckle), Mac rests her head on his shoulder, hardly thinking about it.

Strangely things continue to be as they were and both feel content for the first time in a long while.

Fin. DAMN FLUFF

Sat, 10 Feb 2007 02:54:52 GMT

Title: Domesticated
Author: orangesky33
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Cassidy; Cassidy/Mac and a tiny ounce of Dick and Sean
Rating: I'd say strong PG-13 or R, just for safety’s sake.
Word count: 982
Spoilers: 2x22 "Not Pictured"
Warning: I am dealing with everything "NP" unveiled about Cassidy's character, so if you want to only remember earlier elements of his characterization, you won't be scarred from reading this or anything, but, fair warning, it’s the whole shebang. The appearance of dark themes and one instance of language influenced the rating.
Author Note's: Written for Cassidy's day. ;) Unbeta-ed, so any mistakes are my own damn fault.

"So, Beavs, this weekend we were thinking we could see how you, some vodka, Enbom's cabin party, and that devilish Casablanca's charm (that you have lingering in there somewhere) manage with Lizzy Manning, you know, since the Cindy thing was such a bust." Dick said.

"Yeah, Lizzy should be an easy deal, but try not to put off that sensitive, chick flick bullshit with her, will you, Beaver? There are only so many times we can set something up before having to resort to making you a girl all Weird Science style. And note, I am not Anthony Michael Hall." Sean added in that ever jerky way of his, genuine snobbery on the coat tails of his teasing.

As Dick started to wax poetic about the benefits of a constructed girl and her “daddy complex”, Cassidy tried to select the right emotion for handling the rest of this particular lunch with ease.

He had already knocked out playing the “I have a great sense of humor about myself'” card for he didn't feel it was very trustworthy; however, it wasn't as though he had plans of presenting his own feelings of disgust and anger, present in the way his hands shook under the table. Thus, he decided to give in, and settle on sitting there, a firmly remote being.

Shelley's had been two weeks ago, and Cassidy still felt a bit light-headed about that night. He had not looked Veronica Mars in the face since then, admittedly, given a fear that seeing her large, formerly fresh and blue eyes might cause him to be faced with something that was wholly or, more likely, similar to guilt.

He began to consider it. He thought about how he had put his lips against the pointed upper lip of her firmly closed mouth. It had tasted nice, sort of a peach flavor mixed with something else, maybe liquor. He thought about her legs that he had been inside, soft and smooth against his skin. However, the peachiness and softness wasn't what made it a thing of sensation.

What made it that was similar to the way he had found the woods a place to escape to when his dad and Dick were fishing or Dick got particularly pissy with him on their family camping trips over the years. In those woods, nothing bothered him; he could almost build something out of the solitary wonder of the surrounding air and the silence of the sky. Even if it couldn't be controlled, he could feel like he could control it, and that had been enough. The beauty was all in its silent submission.

"Beavs, are you alright, dude? You look like an Alzheimer’s patient or something." Dick asked.

"I'm fine." Cassidy said genuinely.

_____

Cassidy laid with Mac on his living room couch, her head against his chest and the sound of clanking swords coming from the television.

He looked down at her for the first time in a while and saw that she had nodded off to sleep, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. Her expression was one of slight distress, with her little face drawn up a bit and tiny lines dented in her forehead.

It was strange to think of how comfortable and still she was against him, given how nervous she had been about being near him at first. There had been this twitchiness that had existed in her movements and eye contact; however, rather than awakening that nervousness in him, it had made him smile.

He remembered the first time he had kissed her; as he got close, she had looked up to him with that twitchy gaze. However, as she focused on him, it had, for the first time, steadied, questioned frankly why he should want her, or maybe, hoped for him to.

This clearness in her clear eyes presented them to him as tiny twin Miranda's looking in on their Ferdinand. He had moved in closer, and, as his face got inches from hers, he took in the wonder of how her gaze faltered a bit and her lips then eagerly took him in softly. O Brave New World....

Suddenly, the eyes in question looked up at him.

"Oh crap, did I fall asleep?"

"Yep. Pretty lax behavior from someone that states that The Princess Bride is one of their favorite movies ever."

"What can I say, late hours working on designing those business cards for Phoenix. You're over working me, Beaver, dearest. Now shut up, we're too the goblet test."

"Alright, alright."

He secured his arm around her shoulder, and she nuzzled into his shirt a bit more. All of a sudden, as Wallace Shawn frantically yelled about why the right glass couldn't be the one with the poison, Cassidy reached down and let his lips sway against her forehead. He saw her look up and then he reached down and tenderly kissed the area above her left eye.

"What was that for?" She asked sweetly.

"Nothing special." He stated and grinned down at her.

_____

He made his way through the empty Grand hall, his sneaker-clad feet hastily moving and a white bundle in one hand and her folded dress and her shoes in the other.

He caught sight of a bin outside one of the rooms, and he discarded the white sheet and all its contents. Then, as he turned away, he saw that the nearby janitor closet's door was slightly ajar.

He quickly made his way in and lay down her possessions. Though he was desperate to hurry, he put them down with a gentleness, as if doing so could make it all okay.

As he walked away from the scene with a darkly expression on his face and the white lights overhead shinning down on him like coy yellow eyes, he thought about how things never changed.

The sky was always blue and the tiger kept its stripes and he kept his secrets.

The Pilot episode of my journal!

Fri, 17 Mar 2006 18:58:53 GMT

So I got this journal in the summer all for the sake of commenting on Veronica Mars fan ficition. Then today, I woke up with the notion to actually be assertive and put something in the journal itself. So here I am..with the awkward intro.
I'll basically just be using this journal for Veronica Mars babble with maybe a few breaks to talk about Jensen Ackles and Jon Stewart and other lusts and random pop culture maybe, much to the relief of the peps in my life who tire of it. :tear: I can't promise much insightfulness and I'll probably just be telling all this to myself like usual. Anyone who might stumble upon this and for some odd reason would like to friend me, by all means can. I'm not particularly dangerous and some people even say I am a good listener. OH and I have cookies!(snickerdoodles!) Yum. Well I'm freezing, so enough for now. Wow, this is a really boring "pilot". Better make it more interesting:

::inserts car explosion::

::brings in a vampire for good measure::

::and a pirate! and a ninja! to please both pirate and ninja lovers::

Okay, phew. Well something coherent, maybe resembling interesting later on.

remember when i was so strange and likeable

*shiny yellow bow*

The Pilot episode of my journal!

shiny yellow bow