Pairing: future Kurtofsky. Situational Klaine.
Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form mine.
Summary: School starts, and Dave and Kurt start the GSA. Here's to baby steps.
Notes: Proxydialogue and raving_liberal are awesome.
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Characters: Dave Karofksy, Kurt Hummel, some OCs and brief appearances by Blaine and Sebastian
Parings: Pre-Kurtofksy. situational Klaine.
Spoilers: Goes AU after season 2, but will cherry pick things to keep from season 3. This fic includes a an alternate version of a scene from "First Time" in season 3, that's set over the summer.
notes: follows "Blank Pages" in my Kurtofsky Postsecret Verse. Thanks to ravingliberal for the beta :) And points to the first person to find the crossover cameo. :)
Summary: David goes to Scandals for the first time. And the Second. And the third...
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pairings: David Karofsky/OMC, John/Sherlock, Puck/Kurt, OMC/OMC
disclaimer: Oh, how I wish they were mine.
Summary: David thinks there's something fishy when one of his coworkers goes missing. So does a shadow man in the British Government, who calls in the help of his brother, the world's only consulting detective. And what does connection is there to David's secretary?
Title: Blank Pages
pairing: none. kurtofsky if you squint. (rather, kurtofsky in the sequel...)
characters: David Karofsky
Disclaimer: I wish Glee was mine. It'd cause a lot less anger.
Summary: Karofsy discovers postsecret. Change is in the wind.
Notes: takes place at the end of season two, from "Furt" to "Prom."
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Ok. recs number two. again. these are moslty Slash (sorry steveski)
i am Wes fangirl and love everything and anything that envoles this wonderful watcherboy.
Lostgirlslair has a few wonderful stories. Going Under (there's something wrong with Giles . . .) and Less than Familiar (Giles needs someone after Buffy's death) are so wonderful. My absolute favorite, though, is The Fire in Thine Eyes. (Wes is found badly beaten on the library floor...) I started reading this one when it was two seperate stories Warmpth and Heat. When she finally finished it i was so happy! It's a wonderful AU that follows the episodes perfectly and has quite a few hot spots.
My favorite Wes/Giles piece, housever is by bethynycfics. It is the SchoolVerse. It's a non magical AU where Giles and Wes are in school together. Giles is Head Boy and has his friends William (call me Spike, head of the soccer team) and Ethan (prankster who recently got into directing ). Wes is in a year younger and has is cousin Faith (his wacky non-identical cousin and where they're together hijinks ensue . . . i'm quoting that). Drama ensuses when Giles' father prevents him from any "misconduct' with the lower level boys on threat of expulsion and Wes's father is an abusive homophobe (who is thankfully absent so far). When Giles kisses Wes on a dare, something beautyful is born. They just have to endure school, their fathers, and a jealous Ethan . . . Go read it. Right now.
My next favorite pairing is Wes/Gunn. it works. Really!.
Wesley Rouge Demon by Gila and Mad Poetess is a wonderful AU. The human named Wesley died at 8 and his father had him replaced with a slave. rodger is now dead and when his master arrives to take him back, Angel claimes ownership. The deamon formerly known as wes now has to learn how to be himself . . . Gila also wrote Days of Darkness, Streets like Wine. It's really good. Heck, all of her stuff is really good. In any fandom.
Resturant Dogs by Jane St. Clair. Broke My Brain. Ethan and Wed do a spell. Gunn now has his own personal sorcerer. So hot. So beautyful. I LOVE it when Wes comes into his own magically . . .
Trust, Layer by Layer by Just Human. Rebuilding after Wes's betrayal. So good.
Body of Evidence by RealMitzvah.
"Because it's not fair. Fun for me. No fun for you. That's not cool."
"No, it is fun for me. It's very cool."
"Bullshit. This isn't the Gunn-takes-advantage-of-Wes hour," Gunn said.
I gotta run. There'll be more later.. .
i'm going to REC some of my favorite fanfiction/fanuniverses...be warned . . . most of these are slash . . .
Anything by Te. I'm not kidding. Te is the one who got me into DC Fanfiction and turned me into the Timmy fangirl that i am today. I have been haunting her webpage for almost two years now and it's just oh so wonderful!. Favotites on that page are
>>THE RED AND THE BLACK. Red Hood!Jason and RotJ!Timmy (aka Blackbird) so twisted. so wonderful.
>>THE INTIMATES. Avatar! OMG! Timmy is Oracle's. nuff said.
>>EVERYTHING SPRING. an excuse for Robin!Jason and Robin!Tim porn. with a squeeltastic plot and, well, read:
It hits like a fucking brick. He's totally playing this exactly like Bruce. *Exactly*, and -- and he really doesn't need to say that out loud. No, he totally does. "You know, Bruce, Tim really reminds me of you in a lot of ways."
And okay, it's kind of terrifying how true those words feel once they're out of his mouth, it's a whole different brick, or maybe the same one hitting him again, and the look on Bruce's face is pure *Bruce*, now, but it's the one Tim's giving him that's making him blush.
"Well, now, that's quite the compliment, Jason!" There's a quiet smacking noise and Jason looks up just in time to watch Mrs. Mac's hand patting Tim's wrist really kind of hard and see Tim staring at the hand like maybe it belongs to the same alien planet as the sugar cookies. "You *thank* Jason now."
Tim blinks at Mrs. Mac. And then at him. And then he smiles in a way that only manages to not be a smirk by the fact that it's on *Tim's* face, and Tim's smirks are a lot sharper than that. "Thank you, Jason."there are sequels written by both Te and Petra. Find Petra's here
and my personal favorite
THE ANGELS YOU NEED: Cowritten by Mary and Te you can find them here.
It's halfway through the fourth funeral when Jason realizes today's his sixteenth birthday. That seems almost funny, and he'd laugh if he remembered how.
It's sunny and there's no wind and someone's shouting and honking their horn and swearing out on the road. Jason feels like he's trapped in a bad dream, and imagines that if he tried to run away his feet would drag and the air would turn thick as syrup. And then his alarm clock would start beeping and he'd swear and Bruce would tell him to watch his mouth.
Seems that even though he's forgotten how to laugh, he still knows how to cry. The tears sting his eyes and feel hot against his cheeks. He's been lost in thought for a while, because now it's just him and Alfred beside the new grave.
The headstone's an angel, sad-looking and tall and elegant. Jason's got no idea what makes something classy or tacky but it seems pretty tasteful to him. He stares at it until he could draw it perfectly just from memory.
"Master Jason," Alfred says gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. "No more graveside vows. Let this be an end to it all."
Jason doesn't want to lie, not here. Not now. So he doesn't say anything before turning away and walking back to the cars.
then Tim shows up. Then Steph. Then Tim becomes a cyborg and then it gets complicated. Read it. Now!!
Another Place To Be. again by Te. Tim is Tim. Except, of course, when he isn't... at which point things get complicated.
Natural Law by Te. Dick/Tim. Then Dick/Tim/Bruce. so very hot.
Go Down Knowing by Te. Tim/Bernard.
"I just want a little explanation, and..." Possibly to *strangle* you. "You don't have to look like a refugee from some tedious war movie."
Tim blinks. "Refugee."
"From a... war movie."
Bernard raises an eyebrow. And keeps it raised when Tim starts laughing,
because it really isn't the sort of laughter one could comfortably
not a comfortable laugh at all.
All of Te's Teen Titans works
And really, the rest of Te's works. . . all of it. Freakin beautyful. we will be back to Teland later.
Lacey McBain Comrades in Arms.
Batman/Flash. Not my ususal paring but i was intrigued by On the Couch.
Psyc profiles on Batman, Flash, and Superman. Crazy, man, crazy.
He sees a variety of farm animals. An unprecedented number of
cows. Horses. A cock, and he blushes when he makes sure I
understand he means a rooster. I blush right along with
him. How can anyone be afraid of this man?
“I like cows,” he admits.
There’s a moment of absolute silence as I process what he’s said. I can see him hang his head, and there’s no way he can backtrack from that. I turn the name over on my tongue. Wally West. It suits him somehow. I try to smile reassuringly.
“You’re not going to tell Batman, are you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that was on the list of things I wasn’t supposed to talk about.”
“Bones of a child. Buried underneath a weeping willow.” I
want to wrap my arms around him and make it all go away. There’s
no one in the world that has enough love to give this man.
I don’t want to do it, and yet I turn another page. It’s like an addiction. A sickness. I need to see what he sees. I need to understand.
“A smile,” he says, and I think there might be hope for him. “Like the Joker’s victims, full of yellow teeth and blood-red lips, laughter spilling out like sickly gas.”
I stack the pages on top of the desk and try to banish the images from my mind. I may never use this set of inkblots again. In fact, I may burn them as soon as he leaves.
And Last for Today, but certainly not least, Dodge-Town by Shrift.
"Nice meeting you, Bernard," Dick says and stands up, and Tim slides out of the booth after him, stuffing the donuts into his backpack. Bernard waves at them jerkily as Dick guides Tim out of the diner with a hand on his lower back. Dick's motorcycle is parked just outside, and Tim crosses his arms while Dick straddles it.
"Thanks," he says. "Tomorrow I'm gonna be 'Tim Drake -- dude, gay, and I hear he's doing some older guy.'"
Dick smirks and tosses him the spare helmet. "Some hot older guy."
More Fandoms next post
Just one more distraction to overcome.
One more hardship to endure as I wait, the anticipation sweet and painful.
A trickle of moisture traces its way along my lower back, it tickles, and I have to fight not to squirm. If I move it would disappoint her, and that is the last thing I want to do.
My arms ache.
My knees tremble.
My breath echoes against the soft leather, beading moisture and making my head light.
I cannot see.
The dark is almost negligible. I’ve grown used to not using my eyes. For some reason though, tonight the darkness ranks more. I don’t know why. I’m confused.
I don’t like it.
I MUST clear my mind. She’ll know if I’m agitated. Know I was thinking; brooding. She doesn’t like it when I brood. I agreed in the beginning to give her the control, taking away any reason I would have to brood.
I am no longer in control of my own destiny. My fate is in her hands. The only decision I make is if I don’t want to be here.
And I do.
I am calmed with my fate no longer my own. Pride swells withing me as I think back on these past months. I am good, where I am, with what I do, with what she does. The amount of restraint, of control over myself that I have achieved, has astonished me.
It’s all for her.
And for me.
The leather stinks with stale sweat, damp with new musk, but I don’t know what to pray for; a merciful end or more hours of motionlessness. Mostly, I pray for her to return, to take the decision off my mind. It is already out of my hands.
Somebody up there must like me, for my prayers are answered. I hear her step on the stairs, the hard soles of her heels clacking on the wooden stair. My heart races, my breath shallow, and I struggle to compose myself. But I can still feel my skin flush, my brow dampen.
The door opens.
She doesn’t speak. She never does, not at first. Her presence, the gentle sounds of her settling in - clink of jewelry on the dresser, the sound of a zipper.
Hands on my head, untying the mask. My head moves to aid her, but I keep my head bowed, eyes closed.
She humms her approval. “
“So good, so still. Such good behavior will not go unrewarded. Bow down before me.”
Already on my knees, it’s not hard to lean forward, to prostrate myself before her. I move without sound, though my joints, stiff from disuse, scream in protest.
“So good.” She murmurs again. “Open your eyes.” I do, and I look, for it is beyond my control not to. She allows it and I am stunned, struck dumb by the beauty in her mastery. “Stand.”
I comply, not falling my sheer will alone.
“Come.” Her tone books no room for argument. Once again I put my life willingly in her hands.
And I follow.