amand_r

So I started doing this thing where I type and type and type, and sometimes it's one liners, sometimes it's fanfic one liners, and sometimes it's just quotes. In the end, I'm making myself write. Wooti wooti. None of these will ever be stories, but I think they're cool. I think the Methos one and maybe the Logan one. Yay!

I smell the ending of something that will kill us all when it finally finishes rotting.

I notice that the problem of redemption is that one has to actually believe that he or she is worthy of it.

She's this being, you see, and the pulses of all the suns simply flock to her gravity.

I wondered once when the earth would simply stop for one second and realize that they had it all wrong.

If Sirius could take back one thing from last night, it would be the flaming Dr. Pepper shot. If he hadn't had that, waking up in the skip would have been bearable, rotten tomatoes or no.

Let us all stop and look at this one granule of time here, perched on the edge of God's nose.

Pantheona is still here, radiating outward, something sticky in her demeanor, something poisonous in her memory.

"Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth." The Great Gatsby

Severus read the last three lines on the parchment and was not all surprised at the complete lack of commiseration that it called forth from the admittedly small empathy center in his mind. Hermione, however, was in tears. Women.

"Strega." Willow said with finality.
"Strega?" Xander mused. "Like Stregasaurus."

"Then in a couple of minutes that bottle of Guiness is finished
You are now allowed to officially slap bitches."
Eminem's Drug Ballad

There's not enough spandex these days. I am in need of a laugh.

Oh look! Somewhere in a trailer park in West Virginia, Bubba is crying "Becky come home! All is forgiven!"

That last moment between the two of them is stilted and broken finally by that last gasping of the car engine. Methos understands that the engine is simply mirroring what they had wanted to say, what he had been going to say about them, together, as one. Duncan, immune to the machine as a metaphor, merely slams his fist on the wheel and swears in protest. Methos smiles, because this metaphor has too many layers to count, a tree with its bark still hiding its rings.

I first produced my pistol
And then produced my rapier
And said "Stand and deliver
Or the Devil he may take ya."
Whiskey in the Jar, Metallica ver.

"I am so tired of your shit," Logan growls, his teeth so ground together that upper and lower may have melded into each other a millimeter or so. But that doesn't matter, because his jaw is loose again when Jean presses her mouth to his, her hands at the base of his neck.

The best thing that you ever did was shoot that bitch, you think. Even if you had intended to shoot Buffy, you hit the other one, and that was the priceless hand of irony. The pain you caused Rosenburg was better than the diamond heist, the robot thing, the will-remover, everything. Because this will last long after you're gone. And maybe she'll take the rest of them with her, maybe not, who cares? You're dead, don’t you know, Warren.

"Sever us, Severus," Harry sighed from his side of the table. Then he giggled. Severus looked at the myriad of cords binding their left hands and feet together and wished that he had decided not to go drinking with the rest of the Hogwarts staff. It wasn't worth the puns.