MONDAY! Famous Quotes

[canadiangoddess.livejournal.com]

Happy Monday!! I am canadiangoddess and I'll be your guest host this week! Sorry about the lateness of this post, I shall endevor to do better the rest of the week.

Today's theme is "Famous Quotes" because I've always believed that someone else probably said it better because they said it first.

Follow the rules, and please format your prompts properly:

Leverage, Eliot/Parker, Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.

Just a reminder, only five prompts in a row, three prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, you can prompt more!



"tag=theme(famousquotes)"

Comments

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

BtVS, Anya/Xander, A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick & Damian, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

Collisions

[hobbit-eyes.livejournal.com]

(OK, so this is a bit different from what you asked for, but it's where the train of thought set off by your quote ended up. I hope it's OK.)

Everything we know is built on accidental collisions. From the dawn of time, atoms have been drawn to each other, and collided, and created something new. Lumps of metal and rock, stars, planets, solar systems. One such series of collisions - only one, in billions of years - created a small planet called Earth.

Some see a preordained design behind all of this. Some see nothing but pure chance. Some prefer not to think about it, accepting that they are trying to explain the inexplicable. But almost all at some point find themselves looking outwards, out into the skies and space beyond, and wonder if such an amazing collision could happen again.

Perhaps we are looking in the wrong direction.

Take a man, himself the product of thousands of accidental collisions, who has fallen so far from the grace of God that he has wound up in the depths of Hell itself. Take an angel, who is isolated from both humanity and even his own angel brethren by the only thing he knows - his faith.

They should not have gotten along. They shouldn't have even met. But like those atoms at the beginning of time, alone in nothingness as the universe swirled around them in hot dangerous chaos, they were drawn to each other - and collided.

Some collisions come to nothing. Some collisions build solar systems. Some collisions end in galaxy-destroying supernovae. They're completely unpredictable, but they're necessary.

All the universe can do now is wait.

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

Hetalia, America, "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country.
He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country."
- General George Patton Jr.

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Chuck, We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.

[caffienekitty]

(not much, but here you go)

He kept notepads everywhere. Whenever he felt the onset of a headache, he set the computer to boot to a blank word document in ten hours. Set the coffee maker for noon and hoped.

He used to have a job, writing ad copy for a place in Dayton. Not anymore.

Whenever he wakes up after a vision, sometimes there's a minute of processing, filtering the dream down into scenes and dialog and emotional beats, but sometimes he doesn't get that luxury.

When All Hell Breaks Loose hit, it hit hard. He'd rolled off the bed and thundered down the stairs, scrawling on one of the notepads, pen moving across the page until he could transfer his hands to the keyboard, feeling like he hadn't left the dream. Like his life was one long dream of writing. He wrote ten thousand words before his fingers started cramping, his bladder screaming at him and the coffee cooking slowly down to syrup.

It was like the story came from somewhere outside himself. Like he wasn't a writer, just a conduit.

It scared him.

[kseda.livejournal.com]

Tin Man, Ambrose, "To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge."

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

DCU, Tim Drake, "Madam this stranger is no stranger to danger and is much stranger than you think." - John Candy (Delirious)

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

Twilight, any, "A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person." - Mignon McLaughlin

[angel-gidget.livejournal.com]

The Mortal Instruments, Jace/Clary, "A man who won't die for something is not fit to live." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, It isn’t possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was.

[measuringlife.livejournal.com]

Gwen promises unfailing loyalty to her lady. She braids her hair and readies her dresses, calms her after the dreams come, and warms her bed. Gwen counts herself lucky for having such a graceful and kind woman to wait upon. She’s heard horror stories, and she has none to tell. Morgana has rarely been cross with her and has apologized each time she was.

She is more than a servant, she is her friend and then some. Her life is dedicated to her lady, it is her calling. Her duty, her love.

But the day comes when Merlin calls her away with him. She promises and promises that nothing will change.

Everything will change. Only the fate of the world will change her lady says.

And somewhere along the line it does. She waits on Arthur and becomes his handmaiden, and then, after the death of Uther, his queen. It starts innocently, with Arthur’s head in his hands, and then with comfort. Then a kiss, then another kiss. Then a night of heat, and friction her back to the bed, a hard body to hers. Arthur’s body is different from her lady’s. He is rugged where she was soft, coarse where she was refined. There is no soft pillowing of two breasts rubbing together, and he does not kiss like lady Morgana does, kissing like she’s laughing and loving all in one. He does not instinctively know her spots as lady Morgana has, where she is ticklish, especially her ribs and feet.

He does not know her as her lady has, nor does he strive to.

When she returns to her lady, the lines have already been drawn. She is marked as someone else’s.

Lady Morgana’s last smile shared between them is reminiscent of flowers and smiles and hair washed and all the times her lady begged her to stay, and slept, her cold feet curled up to her calves, seeking warmth.

I told you, Gwen. It is a burden to have the Sight.

She is a queen now, and Morgana’s servant no longer. A fellow peer, another’s wife.

Her smile is brittle, as if it might break in two.

[pesha.livejournal.com]

X-men Movieverse, John/any, "Every generation needs a new revolution." -Thomas Jefferson

[daria234.livejournal.com]

They say that revolution spreads like fire. You just have to ignite the tensions, and your whole civilization goes up in smoke.

Pyro knows it's not really like that. He knows that the revolution spends most of its time developing infrastructure so they don't have to live like animals just because they're avoiding arrest.

The revolution is about trying to stay out of it when big egos clash, when the 'true believers' literally almost kill each other because one snores too loud or because one took the last beer. It's about hiring local kids to graffiti pro-mutant sentiments on the subway, so that their movement's growth looks just a little more 'grassroots' and less like a dictatorship.

John wonders sometimes, what the movement will be like when Magneto is gone. If Magneto can even die. He wonders what his own generation will do with the half-finished revolution that was left behind like so much scrap metal. Most of his new friends would be happy just to cause mayhem. They would be nothing more than random acts of violence if Magneto didn't keep a somewhat short leash on them.

Professor X, in his own way, was as much of a dictator as Magneto was. A lot alike, really. This wasn't that different from being an X-Men. Less disciplined, less books, but otherwise, not that different. Not nearly as different as John felt it should be.

Maybe it was because Xavier and Magneto used to be friends, John thinks. That's why they were so alike. Maybe that's why this revolution keeps getting cockblocked by the X-Men but there's never a big "kill all X-Men plan." John's grateful for this.

But it makes him wonder about the future of the revolution. Maybe without Magneto and Xavier, it'll just be murder and vengeance, 24-7.

But then he thinks of Bobby and Rogue and all the rest, and he thinks of all the times they stopped short of killing each other when it would have been tempting to finish the job. And he thinks that maybe, just maybe, their generation's revolution will involve a little less bloodshed. Maybe the revolution will convince both sides to work together, the regular mutants and the ones with big hero-complexes.

Or maybe, the revolution won't be a revolution at all. Maybe it'll just be death and rhetoric, followed by more death and more rhetoric.

Maybe John would sit the next revolution out.

[gaffsie.livejournal.com]

SGA/SG1, John/Cam, "either the drapes go, or I do!"

Ahahaha! No, sorry, I can't do it.

[scrollgirl.livejournal.com]

Where the heck does this quote come from??

[pesha.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, "I steer my bark with Hope in the head; leaving Fear astern." -Thomas Jefferson

[kseda.livejournal.com]

Ponyo, Fujimoto/Granmamare, “Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls” - Kahlil Gibran

to love the sea

[araine.livejournal.com]

Fujimoto wonders when it was that he fell in love with the sea.

Her love is as inconstant as the tides - sometimes more, and sometimes less, into and out of his life. There are times when she is a summer typhoon, and he can do no more than batten the hatches and bow to her majesty. Other times, she shows him treasures previously unknown to his eyes - beautiful wonders and strange horrors - and laps at him like steady waves.

It takes diligence and patience to understand her - a patience he is not always sure he possesses - because she is not always kind, and sometimes very cruel. But with understanding comes a profound respect. He is honored to have her attention, and her favor, and he knows when to listen to her wisdom.

He cannot help but love her.

And so he learns wizardry in her name, and turns his eyes away from the land, and looks on the humans who would dare to defame her with disgust. He cares for their daughters, at her bidding, the best he can - although they try his patience to the limits.

She comes to him and smoothes out all of his faults - finding them and examining them without ever judging them. She laughs lightly at his contempt for the humans who defame her waters - they were once her children, and she loves them too, as she loves their daughters.

And then she leaves him and he is left fulfilled and yet always wanting.

He listens to whale-song and fish-whispers and the ancient language of the waves themselves, and watches the sun rising over the sea’s brilliant horizons and dreams of the day she will return to him.

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Merlin, any, "You can't ask questions, it's magic. It doesn't explain anything, it's magic. You don't know where it comes from, it's magic! That's what I don't like about magic, it does everything by magic!"

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Parker, Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.


* posted for canadiangoddess*

[gaffsie.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Ronon, To err is human, but it feels divine

[pesha.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/any, "I have seen enough of one war never to wish to see another." -Thomas Jefferson

Saving - Eliot

[partofthequeue2.livejournal.com]

Not sure if this is what you were looking for, but it's what came out...

-----

He’s an anomaly. A Hitter who doesn’t want to Hit.

No, that’s not right. He’s fine with the hitting, but he doesn’t want to kill anymore. He’s spent half his lifetime bloodying his fists on other people’s bodies. He’s stolen artwork and jewels, people and fucking monkeys. He’s played real Russian Roulette, and walked away from a thousand fights in a hundred different countries, leaving a trail of blood and bodies behind him.

He liberated Croatia.

He is a violent man, living worlds apart from hackers and grifters and thieves. Sometimes he’s amazed he made it this far, lived this long. He never expected to make it to retirement (still doesn’t, when he’s being honest with himself, although he can’t figure out if being honest is easier or harder these days). He’s good at what he does, but he’s tired of it now. Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. Seen one war, seen them all. Doesn’t need to see another (prays to any deity that might still be listening, not to see another).

The rush comes slower now, the adrenaline of a fight drains away more quickly.
The nightmares come more often. A parade of faces, those he couldn’t save, those he needed saving from.

Those who needed saving from him.

[dametokillfor.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return."

[devils-almond.livejournal.com]

As an angel, despite being in a human body, Castiel did not sleep. On occasion, he'd find he had lost several hours, due to his body's involuntary sleep overdrive, and he did find that lying in a prone position for extended periods of time could be quite relaxing. But for the most part, he didn't understand sleep. He never dreamed. In fact he wasn't quite sure what dreams were--something about chemical reactions in the brain, thinking whilst unconscious. Yet another mystery of the human body that he may never understand. Castiel had come to learn that, though faith was the key to understanding, experience stood out much more. Sleeping and dreaming may forever elude him.

Sex, however, he had become an expert overnight. It was quite simple; the human body had been created for such an event, evident in the growing population on Earth. Simple anatomy, really. The sensations running over his skin had surprised and even frightened him a bit, but he had learned to understand them as well. He even found himself enjoying it. His lover certainly did. There was pleasure that he found building inside of him, warm and tingly down his spine and to his core.

At one point, he found himself alarmed and confused. As a warm, wet heat exploded inside him, he realized Dean had reached his climax, and something had happened. It was as though he was in pain, moaning Castiel's name like a cry for help. It wasn't until Dean collapsed onto Castiel's chest, heaving and shaking, did he realize that Dean wasn't in pain but intense pleasure. Pleasure that his own body had given Dean, by simply opening up to him and letting him inside. Tangled in sweating and heated limbs, Castiel was scared.

Within moments, Dean lifted himself, positioning himself over Castiel and sinking slowly, pushing Castiel inside his body. Then did Castiel understand. The heat of another body, a delicate haven of flesh. Castiel cried out, startled by the newfound sensations of his body. Dean planted the softest of kisses along his neck, gentle hands sweeping along his contours of his torso. Castiel reached down, exploring where the two were connected. Eyes opened only slightly, he could barely see Dean's face, on the edge of losing what control he treasured. He leaned down to Castiel's ear and pleaded with him, come with me, and with no warning his body answered Dean's command and he came, tears prickling his eyes and words on the tip of his tongue that he didn't understand.

Within minutes, both clutching each other, bodies damp with sweat, tears, cum, and just a bit of blood, Dean fell into that enigmatic sleep, held safely in Castiel's arms.

Castiel found himself in a position that was confusing as well as comfortable. He couldn't explain it. He knew he'd spend the entire night lying in bed, careful not to make a move and wake his lover, knowing that he couldn‘t go that same place. But he didn't mind. Not in the least. Occasionally, Dean would flail, a moan escaping his lips, and Castiel, driven by some odd force, would hold him tighter, kissing his hair and rubbing a hand down his chest until the boy relaxed into his slumber again.

An unexplainable excitement bubbled in Castiel's chest at every passing second to the point of him feeling anxious. He wanted Dean to wake up and ask him what he was feeling, if it was a side-effect of an orgasm. But the feeling refused to wake up Dean by force. He felt tenderness for the human in his arms. He even caught himself grinning into Dean's shoulder like a child.

Castiel figured it must be love. Wasn’t it? He would have to wait and ask Dean in the morning.

[pesha.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Supernatural, Eliot/Dean, "An enemy generally says and believes what he wishes." -Thomas Jefferson

[pesha.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Angel the Series, Eliot/Lindsey, "An injured friend is the bitterest of foes." -Thomas Jefferson

[msmanuscript.livejournal.com]

Author's Choice, Author's choice/author's choice, "It's a trap!"

[daria234.livejournal.com]

okay, this is quite cracky, but since you wrote me something with Dr Horrible once I assume you like him so... her goes.

The accountants from Ernst and Young were walking home after the Emmys, enjoying the cool air and griping about how there were no surprises. Suddenly, however, as they took a shortcut through an alley, they saw four electric beams seem to pop up out of nowhere, two on each exit to the alley, imprisoning them there.

"It's a trap!" shouted George.

"There's nowhere to run!" cried Jeffie.

"HA! I've got you now!" Dr. Horrible's voice came thundering and/or giggling from inside the dumpster. He leapt out, holding his electrical device in his hand, and with the other hand brushing off the banana peel and other garbage items that were sticking to his labcoat.

"Horrible!" Jane shouted, "What do you want?"

"I want you to do a recount. I, Dr. Horrible, should be the winner of all awards. Mad Men? Seriously? They're in advertising! Scientists are mad, not ad men, believe me, I would know."

"Look the show's done," Jane said. "So stick it up your -"

"Dr. Horrible!" Hammer's voice thundered, "How dare you assault these accountants! And this lady!"

"I'm an accountant too," Jane responded.

"That's adorable," Hammer said as he threw a piece of gravel at Horrible's device and broke it, making the electric-beam fence disappear. He then walked up to Hammer and punched him in the stomack, leaving him crying on the ground.

Hammer went up to Jane then, and said, "Accountant huh? Would you like to count my tools? I only have one, but it's really big."

"No thanks," she said.

"And you boys?" Hammer said. Jeffie and George quickly turned him down. "Seriously? Nobody wants to see the hammer? Horrible?"

"You think I want to see your dick after you punched me you abusive sonofabitch?"

"Come on, it doesn't feel right having NO ONE want to see it. Pleeease. I'll let you steal Jon Cryer's Emmy and look the other way."

Horrible considered this. Finally, he said, "Fine. Show me."

Jeffie, Geroge, and Jane hurried away before they had to see what happened next. But they all went out for some good stiff drinks and decided that from now on, they'd make someone else do the awards shows.

[samueljames]

Numb3rs, Charlie/Colby, "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" (Alfred Lord Tennyson)

[carinascott.livejournal.com]

“Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Charlie had always thought that an idiotic quote. He understood the sentiment behind it, but often wondered if Tennyson was speaking from experience or simply waxing poetic about something he had no true knowledge of.

Because Charlie had loved, and lost, and most days he woke up wishing he’d never loved Colby Granger at all.

Most days.

End

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Kings, David/Jack, There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, "as you wish."

"As you wish", Leverage, Nate/Eliot

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Eliot's thirty-five, now. Been thirty-five for a couple'a months, and he's wondering just what in the hell he's still doing here, with these people. He's been out in the world since he was eighteen, after all, making his own way, living by his own rules and then, bam.

Like living with a family - with parents - again.

Eliot wrinkles his nose and glares down at the knife and whetstone in his hands.

There's just something in Nate's voice, though - and Eliot's ignoring any correlation between his previous thoughts about parental control and his current tangent. It's almost always got this tone to it, something that makes Eliot shiver a little and makes him want to obey.

Damn the man, anyway.

It doesn't get any better, though, and Eliot knows he's falling hard - harder than he fell for Aimee, even, and that had been high school sweethearts for a time. So he obeys Nate's orders even when he'd rather not and revels in the thrill that runs through him when Nate looks at him with approval or thanks. Eliot knows there's something going on between Nate and Sophie - he's not blind or deaf after all - but he's beginning to suspect that not even Nate knows what he wants out of that clusterfuck of a situation.

And it's stupid, but Eliot lets himself dream a little, which is probably why he doesn't rein in his tongue as much as he should and why, for fuck's sake, he lets that out.

Nate sends him to watch over Parker - although the girl can take care of herself and they both know it - and Eliot has to move past Nate's chair to get to the door. And he mutters under his breath, as he passes;

"As you wish..."

The only saving grace is that none of the others heard him but Nate - Nate, who obviously recognises the reference and who sucks in a quick, sharp breath.

Eliot's never been one for leaving things up to chance, but in this instance he's just fine letting the dice fall where they may. He hurries out, ushering Parker ahead of him, and he risks one glance back only to see Nate staring after him.

*~*~*~*

Nate doesn't say anything until later that night when Hardison's long gone home and Parker's disappeared to wherever she goes when she's not diving off rooftops and walking along wires for fun.

But then, then - and Eliot had almost convinced himself that Nate hadn't heard, that maybe Nate might even just let it go...

Nate follows Eliot to the door and holds it shut when Eliot goes to open it. Not that Eliot couldn't open it, but that's not the point, is it?

"Turn around," Nate says, and Eliot growls a little but he does, turning around so's his back's against the door and he's looking up the inch or so difference into Nate's eyes.

"Kiss me," Nate says, breathes out the words with something like apprehension and fear in his eyes although he's got to know by now that Eliot'd do anything for him.

Eliot huffs a laugh and reaches for Nate, curving one hand around the back of Nate's neck and leaning up, waiting 'til he's a hair's breadth from Nate's mouth to whisper;

"As you wish."