Wanna Get Ficced?

This was a weird one!

Before I get into the dream, you need to know something: I have seen exactly 1/2 of an episode of "Fringe," which really does make this dream a weird one.

So, basically, I was a badass action chick working with Joshua Jackson's character from "Fringe." Which would be super-cool if I'd seen more of "Fringe" than previously mentioned, but I haven't, so all completely out-of-character traits are entirely the fault of my weird brain.

So, I was a badass action chick, and we were on a helicarrier not unlike that of S.H.I.E.L.D., and one of the guys in the unit had gone bugfuck and needed to be taken down.

I storm into a room with a fantastic big-fucking-gun, yell at Joshua Jackson (I don't know his character name from "Fringe," so he's Joshua Jackson) to grab a gun and come along because I need someone who can shoot straight, and then we're running down the halls of this giant helicarrier looking for Mr. Bugfuck.

By the way, for some reason, I was calling Joshua Jackson "Gunny." Even in my dream I knew this was weird.

So, we're running down the halls, and I'm barking orders, and some squirelly guy runs by me; turns out he's working with Mr. Bugfuck and wants to warn him, so I have to charge after him and knock him over and stop him.

Well, Mr. Bugfuck gets hold of me and marches me into a room that's been set up to put me on trial for something I don't remember, and he put me behind some woman I knew. Wanting to cause a distraction to give Joshua Jackson a chance to get a shot off, I pick up a chair to whack the chick in front of me.

She turns around and stops me before I can whale on her. Mr. Bugfuck throws me in cuffs, picks me up, and slams me against a wall. He's threatening me; I'm yelling at Joshua Jackson to take a headshot, and I realize Mr. Bugfuck is standing completely unprotected. I consider kicking him in the junk and decide it's too much of a stereotype (yes, really), so I dead leg him by kicking him with the heel of my foot on the inside of his thigh.

He swears, drops me, and Joshua Jackson shoots him once in the shoulder and once in each thigh.

Fast forward to the epilogue scene, and I'm in my quarters with an ice pack on my shoulder. My shoulder is black and blue from my landing, but I'm otherwise okay. Joshua Jackson shows up, tells me he's had a thing for me for a while, and we mack.

The End

Again, I have seen 1/2 an episode of "Fringe," so the complete lack of resemblance to that show or Joshua Jackson's character (who may, in fact, be a badass) is completely because this dream was totally weird but AWESOME.

Had a dream last night that Jack McCoy was driving home Claire Kincaid and myself. When he dropped off Claire, I moved to the front seat of the car, and we got...frisky.

It was a good dream. Apparently, Claire knew about us and was playing beard of a type because I was Jack's file clerk, and it was considered better if people thought he was having sex with Claire.

So, yes, good dream. Really, really, really good dream.

I had a dream about The Mighty Ducks last night. You remember those movies? Emilio Estevez? Very young Joshua Jackson? A bunch of guys whose names you can no longer remember?

Yeah, so apparently Charlie [that'd be Joshua Jackson] and I were all about being all lovey-dovey and together now that we're both adults and all the young fame has worn off. Except, then, that Adam walked in, and I come to find out that while Charlie kinda wants to be lovey-dovey with me, he and Adam were already together.

Even my subconscious is a slasher. I approve of this.

I dreamed last night that I was the FBI partner of one Fox Mulder and that we were investigating a possible haunting in the house where I grew up [which has always been rumored to be haunted]. He was down in what served as my parents' bedroom, and he heard a woman's voice before furniture started flying everywhere. He then tried to haul ass upstairs but did not make it right away for some unknown reason.

I was upstairs [in my bedroom from that house], lying on a mattress, buck naked and freezing. I convinced some guy who was along for the investigation to climb into bed with me and keep me warm. After he did so, Mulder came running into the room yelling that I had been possessed by the poltergeist and needed to fight it.

Which, of course, cued the poltergeist to take over my body and start yelling obscenities while causing the temperature in the room to drop to nothing. It also caused it to snow indoors. Mulder kept yelling at me to fight it while also shouting instructions to get a priest or someone with exorcism experience.

And then I woke up, covered in sweat, breathing like I'd just run a damned marathon, scared out of my wits, and my very first thought was, "Why the fucking hell was I dreaming about Mulder? I was barely ever into the X-Files!"

It did not occur to me until I was waking to my alarm a couple of hours later that my first concern should have been the wicked bad dream I'd been having, and not the fannish content within.

But seriously, Mulder? WTF?

Yet another fun and crazy dream from the land of me.

I had a dream that I was getting married. Not to just anyone, but to Dean from "Supernatural". The inconsiderate bastard was almost late for the wedding because he had to kill something. I mean, come on! On our wedding day? I just know our honeymoon is going to be spent driving around in the Impala following the lead off some back page news article. Maybe we can have sex on the car. Maybe he'll let me play with the rock salt gun. That thing is awesome.

I've been watching my Season One DVDS since sometime yesterday or possibly the day before. I can't honestly remember. So now, for the fun list.

1. I had a dirty dream about House last night. We made out in a hallway. And when I say 'made out', I mean full-on hot and heavy action. He may have even groped me. It seems that my House dreams [the first where I had to defend my relationship to Cameron, and the second where I was in a bathing suit] are following a nice, inclined pattern, wherein each one is more involved than the last. Could there be House sex in my future dreams? Well, a girl can hope.

2. The more I watch episodes back to back to back to back, the more I see House/Chase. If I could just get the dynamic right, I think it could be killer fun to write. Chase is so freakin' *pretty* and House is so freakin'--there's no real word to describe House. Yes, he's handsome, but it's in such a way that I can't quite articulate. I do quite like the idea of Chase borrowing House's cane to pistol whip [cane whip?] someone at random, though. I could see him doing it.

3. In the episode "Control", the curly-haired boy from "Spy Kids" gets a nod in the episode description, but Patrick Bauchau [or, Patrick-fuckin' Bauchau, as I sometimes think of him [that makes four, miriam]], isn't mentioned at all. When did Annie's bastard love child earn more film cred than Patrick-fuckin' Bauchau? This is an insult. I demand someone to be cane whipped.


And now I'm going to take a quick break to grab a glass of soy milk and settle back in. My ass is going numb. [Yeah, I've been here a while.]

More fun spammity-spam later, folks. Stick around long enough, you may get RENT fic.

I keep having "House"-related dreams.

In the first, we were apparently marine biologists or something because I had to tell House that I need to change into a bikini. To which he replied:

"All right, but I want to see the thing signed when you get back."

For the record, not talking about the bikini, talking about the bikini line. I don't know why he wanted it signed, but he has always struck me as a kinky bastard. He also insisted that I show him the signature when I got back. Oh, yeah, like I'm gonna turn down *House*. It did make me wonder [when I was awake] who would sign off on a bikini line. Do I need one of those bikini inspectors?

And then, last night, I was Mary Sue, or something like it. I was with the Ducklings, and we were all freaking out because we had to consider changing specialties. As we're wandering around the hospital, we ran into House, and he said something incredibly lewd to me before kissing me senseless [for the record: BEST. DREAM. EVER.]. I then had to make apologies to Cameron because she felt very put out that House had put out for me. We ended up in the restroom, wherein I informed her that I was *planning* to tell her, but that House was an inconsiderate bastard who didn't rightly care that I was trying to have some tact.

So, good fannish dreams for me. Not so much for Cameron.