April 10th, 2009


FAREWELL MARINE - Sandra Lee Gilcher


The combat boots are empty,
And finally they're still,
They're set carefully at attention,
They've marched up their last hill.

The rifle too is silent now,
And unwaveringly erected,
Holding up the well-worn helmet
Of the Marine it once protected.

One by one his comrades somberly draw near,
Each raising one last salute,
Unafraid to shed a tear,
A time honored tradition dating back to days of old,
A reverent memorial,
A stirring image to behold.

It bears witness to the bond,
Of a brotherhood of men,
The kind who come along,
every now and then.

These men who pass will carry on,
They've a mission to complete,
For our country they will fiercely fight,
Our enemies they'll defeat.

Wherever duty takes him,
Whatever battles he may fight,
Never will he for get his friend,
Who gave his life for what is right.

Finally the bugle sounds,
Taps is softly played,
Time to say farewell,
And say a prayer for sacrifices made.

This day names of those who died,
Will be added to the list,
They will forever be remembered,
And undeniably be missed.

Next time you see that proud Marine,
In that uniform he wears,
Know that his heart is strong and true,
Please keep him in your prayers.

He lives by a vow to protect and defend,
No matter what the cost,
But to every Marine it bears a name,
His buddy who was lost.

-- Sandra Lee Gilcher

I don't support the war. I support the men fighting it. - Gibbs, NCIS. Good words Gibbs-y.



The Mary-Sue Alphabet - by Irony-chan

's for Amanda
Our hero's twin sister
Got lost as a baby
And gosh, how he missed her
He always suspected
He had a half lacking
He set off to find her
By magical tracking
So now they're together
And smiling a lot
Too bad that the story's
Got no trace of plot


B is for Bridget
Who's named for the author
She could have been subtle
But just didn't bother
Yet somehow I doubt
That the writer's a d-cup
Or sings like an angel
With nary a hiccup
Or doesn't need glasses
Or looks like a hottie
Or ever will earn
Her black belt in karate


C is for Clementine
Good on a broom
The fastest of flyers
Just look at her zoom!
The new school all-star
She aims like a dream
They haven't lost once yet
Since Clem made the team!
But the other side's jealous
And might not play fair
Will they cheat 'til she loses?
... does anyone care?


D's for Diana
Her story's a wreck!
With no sign of grammar
Or any spell-check
The readers sent email
To justly complain
But all of their efforts
Turned out to be vain
The author replied with:
"Who cares how it's written?
"It's only a fanfic!
"You're mean, and kick kittens!"


E is for Elwen
An elf in her glory!
Who seems unware
That she's in the wrong story
Like all of her people
She's comely and wise
The hardest heart melts
At her come-hither eyes
But how did she get here?
There aren't any clues
And the author won't tell
'Til she gets more reviews


F for Furiko
Who came from the East
Her father's a magical
Shrinekeeper priest
She brought her katana
And swings it with ease
And she'll say 'onegai'
Instead of just 'please'
Each chapter begins with
A guide to the phrases
And thanks the reviewers
For singing her praises


G is for Georgia
Likes watching TV
Replaying the movie
Upon DVD
'Til one day by magic
The screen opened wide
Before Georgia knew it
It sucked her inside!
Now she'll save the hero
By hook or by crook
She knows all the future
'Cause she's read the book


H starts the name
Of a girl called Heather
An element witch
Who can magic the weather
A sunshiny day
Means she's merry and glad
But thunder and snowstorms
Show up when she's mad
And should she be sleeping
And having strange dreams...
I suppose that might be why
It's raining sardines


I for Isolda
Who's nasty and mean
The worst evil sorceress
You've ever seen
The Dark Lord is naught but
Her grovelling bitch
No-one out-evils
This black little witch!
It runs in her family
Right down in her roots
But without a good beta
Her plots become ploots


J is for Janviere
Frozen and cold
A silent immortal
A thousand years old
Ever since she discovered
The Sorcerer's Stone
There have been none to love her
She wanders alone
Her tale is tragic
With no-one to tell
Where she hid the body
Of Nicolas Flamel


K is for Kimberly
Nothing but trouble
There's chaos a boiling
In her cauldron's bubble
The girl's a genius
Her pranks are the best!
But all of the teachers
They think she's a pest
Four times in a row
She's been kicked out of school
To let her in here
The headmaster's a fool


L for Lorraina
The heir to three thrones
She dresses in ballgowns
And wears precious stones
But deep in her heart
She's so royally lonely
She longs for a prince
To love her and her only
She wants to be treated
Like all other girls
Perhaps if she'd dump
The tiara and pearls


M is for Madysonne
Fresh from the states!
Like totally awesome
This chica, she rates!
She brought with her all of
Her favourite CD's
And might let you listen
If you just say please
She's spreading the music
As far as she can
And somehow I'm guessing
The author's a fan


N is for Naoko
In space she has dwelt
Her real name's Sailor
Asteroid Belt
A student by day
Vigilante by night
A short-skirted soldier
In crimson and white!
But what will she do when
Her secret's discovered?
Why, sex up the hero
And make him her lover!


O for Ophelia
The evil guy's daughter
Her life is so awful
Her tears flow like water
Her husband's been chosen
By father and mother
But her heart already
Belongs to another
Oh woe! And oh angst!
Yeah, it's piled on thick
And most of the readers
Are gonna be sick


P is for Paris
Just swimming in prose!
Her lips weren't pink only
They bloomed like a rose!
Like wheat in the sunshine
The gold of her hair
Her eyes, how they sparkled
As clear as the air!
Her skin was as white
As the robe of a saint
And it's that lack of iron
Keeps making her faint


Q is for Qing
She's the Chinese exchange
Her manners are foreign
Her habits are strange
She's odd and exotic
She dresses in silk
Eats rice for her breakfast
And never drinks milk
A stereotype walking
On feet bound up small
The author did clearly
No research at all


R for Rhiannon
Got brought up by a pack
Of wolves in the wild
One would think that she'd lack
For poise and good manners
But she's got 'em in spades
Perhaps that is how
Every she-wolf behaves
There's only one chapter
But quite clear to see
That poor helpless werewolf
Will get paired with she


S for Serena
Who changes her form
When she wants she can become
A white unicorn
Both tigers and eagles
Are shapes she can take
A big golden dragon
A small silver snake
A galloping mustang
A peacock of blue
The woman's a one-person
Portable zoo


T is for Tracey
The coolest of cool
Most popular chick
At her old wizard school
But here things are different
She's all but unseen
The others don't like her
And everyone's mean
It's all 'bout the in-crowd
And the reader infers
That in the end Trace
Will say vengeance is hers


U is for Umbra
Which isn't a name
But in the end really
There's worse stuff to blame:
Her surname is either
'MacKay' or 'MacBride'
The story says both
It can't seem to decide
That's about as much sense
As this fic ever makes
Especially since it lacks
Paragraph breaks


V for 'Virginia'
Who used to be canon
'Til one day along came
A writer named Shannon
Now Gin's into cutting
And punk-rocker bands
And writes poems 'bout the pain
That no-one understands
But her parents don't worry
To any degree
Because just like their daughter
They're both OOC


W stands for
One Wendover Sable
She started off Sue-some
Right out of the cradle
The poor foundling baby
Was given a home
By snobby, rich wizards
Brought her up like their own
And should any point out
That this ain't realistic
Just watch as the author
Goes fully ballistic


X is for Xanthe
Who isn't a Sue
Like any good character
She's got flaws, too
Her hair isn't curly!
Her nails she bites!
She's scared of the dark
When she turns out the lights!
So many things
That could get in the way...
But they'll never stop Xanthe
From saving the day


Y is for Yarrow
Who's better than teacher
At seeing tomorrow
In every small feature
In fact, she's so good
That she tutors the classes
And with her instructing
All students get passes
Yet when she predicts ruin
Woe is her - no one hears!
So much for the love
And respect of her peers


Z is for Zuli
Her name is Zuliekha
But she keeps it short 'cause
That's tough on the speaker
She sings and she dances!
She's mastered disguise!
She chit-chats with snakes!
She makes Julienne fries!
The reader is torn
Between laughter and gaping
Spoofs shouldn't be worse
Than the things that they're aping



How Ianto Jones Learned the Seventh of Twelve Things

How Ianto Jones Learned the Seventh of Twelve Things
(or The Curious Incident of the Nutmeg Tea in the Nightime)

“You?” said Gwen incredulously. “You? On a HEALTH kick?”

“And what’s so unlikely about that?” asked Owen indignantly. “And anyhow, it’s not just me on a health kick, it’s us. As in Torchwood Cardiff. All of us. I am a doctor, after all, and it’s my job to keep you lot fit for purpose.”

“Fit for purpose?” repeated Ianto. “You make us sound like second hand cars."

“In that case, Teaboy,” replied Owen “consider yourself first in line for your MOT.”

Ianto sighed heavily. He suspected Owen wouldn’t hesitate to use cold implements on him. In fact, he made a mental note to check the fridge before his physical just to make sure that Owen hadn’t chilled them first.

“There will be a timetable posted on the notice board first thing on Monday morning.” Owen was suddenly very business-like. “No one is excused.”

“And who doctors the doctor?” asked Tosh.

“I do.” said Jack.

“Oh no, no, no, no. no.” said Owen hastily. “I’ll get Rhodri to do me.”

“I didn’t think you swung that way,” commented Ianto quietly.

“And who, exactly, is Rhodri?” asked Jack, pointedly ignoring the Welshman.

“Friend of mine.” replied Owen, also pointedly ignoring the Welshman.

“Medical man, is he?” asked Jack.

Owen rolled his eyes heavenwards in exasperation. “He printed his degree certificate from the same website as I did.”

“That would be Hasbro's "Operation" game web site, would it?” Ianto was never at a loss, especially if there was a chance to bait Owen. Jack sometimes wondered if perhaps Ianto actually did have a hobby after all.

“That’s right.” said Owen brightly, not giving Ianto any satisfaction by taking offence. “I was always crap at the ‘Bread Basket’ piece in that game.”

“Bet that the new bit, ‘Brain Freeze’ was right up your street though.” came back Ianto.

“They only added that piece in 2004.” observed Owen “I’d already qualified by then. You’re the only one of us who was enough of a baby to still be playing Operation in 2004.”

“I’ve got a young nephew.” Ianto wasn’t prepared to be beaten by Owen yet. He was about to go in for the killer line: ‘in that case how do you know about the new piece?’ when Jack stopped them.

“Children, children, enough.” Jack knew when to allow the team to let off steam by sniping at each other and when to put a stop to it. He usually judged it correctly, ending things before fists began to fly. Usually.

Owen and Ianto glared at each other. Owen pointed his index finger at Ianto and narrowed his eyes. “You. Nine am Monday. Examination room. No breakfast. And be prepared to pee in a bottle.”

Monday 9.00am, Examination Room off the Autopsy Bay

“Take your clothes off and get on the table.” said Owen unceremoniously.

“And good morning to you too.” Ianto smiled breezily.

“Clothes off. Now” growled Owen, turning to his instrument tray. While laying out the tray, he’d noticed that the instruments were not as cold as he’d expected them to be considering he’d put them in the freezer before he went home the night before. But they’d been exactly where he’d left them. He made a mental note to get Ianto to check the temperature sensor in the freezer but realized he’d need to come up with a good reason for his suspicions. The truth would cost him dearly; it would bring him bad coffee for at least a month.

Despite fully understanding the concept of doctor/patient confidentiality, Jack still found excuses to hang around at the top of the autopsy bay in the hope of overhearing any snippets that would tell him how Ianto’s health really was. The young Welshman was always reluctant to discuss his own health with anyone. Jack was a little alarmed to hear the occasional yell, not to mention some squeaks, coming from the area. It was a little perplexing too that, while most clearly came from Ianto, more than a few were coming from Owen.

Monday 11.45 pm, Ianto’s Bedroom

“So, what did Owen say?” Jack was not particularly subtle. He never was after sex. Or during it, often.

Ianto, surprisingly, was forthcoming. “He said I should eat more vegetables, stop eating cocoa-pops for breakfast and have muesli instead, and get more sleep.” He smiled. “That’s why he’s prescribing a herbal tea sleep-remedy.”

“Sounds sensible to me.” said Jack, nodding approvingly. “You probably could use more sleep. But herbal tea?” Jack frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Owen. He uses drugs for everything. He sometimes even prescribes them for the rest of us, too. Oh well, homeopathy is an age-old science. How do you feel about taking natural remedies, Ianto?”

“Actually,” said Ianto “he’s not prescribing the herbal tea for me. He’s prescribing it for you.”

Jack spluttered. “What?”

“Well, you are the main reason I don’t get enough sleep, sir.”

Tuesday 9.00 am, Examination Room off the Autopsy Bay

Jack did not have to be invited a second time to disrobe. In fact, after the physical, Owen had trouble persuading him to put his clothes back on.

“Harkness, you are a supreme exhibitionist at times.”

Tuesday 5.00 pm, Hub

“Here, take this.” Owen handed Jack a bottle full of an unappetizing cloudy, brown-coloured liquid. “Heat it up and drink it as soon as you get to Ianto’s. You can put sugar in it if you want. You’ll start to feel really drowsy around ten, so don’t do anything daft like go to a 9.30 cinema show. Just stay at home, relax and look forward to a good night’s sleep. When you feel it kick in, don’t fight it, just go to bed and go to sleep. The pair of you.”

Jack and Ianto exchanged glances. Normally, whilst they were sometimes in bed by ten, they certainly didn’t get to sleep until later; a lot later. They both looked at Owen, who thought he detected a look of gratitude in Ianto’s eyes and misery in Jack’s.

“And what actually is in the bottle?” ventured Jack, suspiciously holding it up to the light and giving it a shake. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“It’s not what I ….” started Ianto.

“No!” said Owen indignantly, “it’s nothing to do with the examination you had yesterday. It’s nutmeg tea.”

“Nutmeg tea?” echoed Jack.

“Yup. Rhodri reckons it is the perfect natural remedy for insomnia. He’s a practicing homoeopathist, so he should know. He gave me the recipe.”

Jack scowled. “I don’t have insomnia, I just don’t need as much sleep as the rest of you. It’s a physical thing that happens when you get older. And don’t forget, I am over 150.”

“Lots of other physical things happen when you get older, too,” countered Ianto, looking meaningfully at Jack’s groin, “but you don’t have any problems in that department, so you can’t pull the age routine, sir. And you have to admit you often have trouble sleeping. You spend an awful lot of the night standing like a lemon on various Cardiff rooftops with your coat flapping around your ankles.”

Jack’s scowl was becoming a permanent feature on his face. “Lemon?” he hissed in Ianto’s ear. “Just wait until I get you home, Ianto Jones.”

Tuesday, 6.30 pm, Ianto’s Kitchen

“Here, drink it.” Ianto proffered a steaming cup of dark brown liquid.

“Don’t want to.” said Jack. “It smells noxious.”

“Look.” Ianto held the cup to his lips and simulated drinking. “Yum, yum. It’s delicious. I’m having some. You’d like it if you tried it.”

Jack’s scowl hadn’t left his face all evening, but it deepened at that moment. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his usually full lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just do it.” said Ianto, giving up on the cajoling rather quickly. He was tired and wanted a relaxing evening, not Jack behaving like a petulant five year old. “Drink it and stop complaining. A decent night’s sleep would do us both a world of good. Just hold your nose and chug it down, you won’t taste it if you do that. That’s how I manage to drink your coffee in the mornings.”

Jack added a frown to the scowl but had to stop. It hurt his facial muscles.

Tuesday, 6.32pm, Ianto’s Living Room


“Yes, Jack?”

“Ianto. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you aren’t, sweetheart. It’s because the tea was a little strong and sludgy. I know, because I really did taste it. It’s going to take a little while to settle in your stomach. Just lie down on the sofa and try to think of something else. Let’s watch a DVD.”

“Owen’s crap at making drinks. He always brews them too long.”

Ianto went to fetch a bucket anyway, just in case.

Tuesday, 10.15 pm, Still in Ianto’s Living Room

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Ianto, let’s go to bed. Before the spiders on the carpet get there first.”

Looking back on events later, Ianto realized that he hadn’t picked up on that warning sign at all.

Wednesday, 06.00 am, Owen’s Room

Owen was awoken by the strident ringing of his mobile phone. He squinted at the clock as he picked up. Six in the morning.

“Ianto, what the fuck do you want at this time in the morning? This had better be good.”

“Depends on your definition of good. I’m not sure that the nutmeg tea has had quite the soporific effect you thought it would.”


“Well, at the moment, Jack’s singing ‘Land of Our Fathers’.”

Owen was incredulous. “Ianto, it is 6.00 am. You rang me at 6.00 am to tell me Jack’s singing? He often sings in the shower. That is not an emergency.”

“In Welsh.”

“I didn’t know he spoke Welsh.” Owen forgot his anger momentarily.

“He doesn’t. He only knows a handful of words so he’s la-la-ing most of it and suddenly belting out ‘Gwlad, Gwlad’ every time it comes up in the chorus, at the top of his voice.”

“It’s still not an emergency, Ianto, just a minor inconvenience. Why not teach him the rest of the words, eh? He’s got all eternity, which is about as long as I reckon someone would need to learn Welsh.”

There was a deafening silence at Ianto’s end of the phone line.

Owen grimaced, wondering if perhaps he’d finally overstepped his mark. Ianto would take a lot from Owen but insulting his national language might just have been too much. Owen waited for Ianto to say something and, in the background, could just make out the end of a fit of giggles, and the start of a rousing chorus of ‘Gwlad, Gwlad’. It sounded quite far away. And not like it was in Ianto’s bathroom at all. “There’s more, isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me.”

“He’s singing it naked.”

“I shouldn’t’ve thought that was a problem for you, Ianto. And anyhow, naked in the shower is probably the best way to be.” The doctor was feeling his way carefully now, sensing rising anxiety in the young Welshman.

“Owen, he’s not in the shower. He’s on top of the Millennium Center. Jack Harkness is singing the Welsh national anthem, stark naked, on the roof of the Millennium Centre in the middle of Cardiff.”

“Oh. That’s wrong!” Ianto could almost hear Owen cringing at the thought. “That’s so wrong! Stay where you are Ianto, I’m on my way.”

Owen hastily shrugged into jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed his field medical kit.

Wednesday 6.15 am, on the ground outside the Millennium Centre

“I couldn’t get anywhere near him.” Ianto told Owen. “He’s over stimulated.”

“I can see that.” commented Owen lewdly, shading his eyes against the early morning light to look up at Jack’s naked form on the roof, silhouetted against the rising sun.

“Not useful, Owen.” cautioned Ianto.

“Sorry, it just slipped out. I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, that’s what Jack says when it happens to him.”

Owen turned to glance at Ianto, but the Welshman remained impassive. Owen couldn’t tell if it was a straight statement of fact or a line positively dripping with innuendo. Ianto was good at that.

“Owen, we’ve got to get him down. The morning rush hour will start soon. And I think a naked American singing the national anthem might just attract some attention. Not exactly the publicity that a secret organization wants, really.”

“Naah, it’s about as subtle as having the name ‘Torchwood’ stenciled in yellow on the SUV.”

“Or those mouse mats Gwen got for us for Christmas last year. Do you remember them? Picture of the water tower with ‘I love Torchwood’ photoshopped on to the bottom.”

As the next rousing chorus of “Gwlad, Gwlad la-la-la-la-la-la-la” started ringing from the roof, they were refocused on the matter in hand.

“So, what are we gonna do about Jack?” mused Ianto.

Owen shrugged. “We could always shoot him off.” he suggested, trying genuinely to be helpful.

Ianto ran his hands through his hair, considering it. Then he shook his head. “No, we’d only have to deal with a resurrection headache as well as the after effects of an overdose of psychoactive cake spice.”

“Point taken, Teaboy. You got any better ideas, though?”

“One of us has got to get up there and tempt him down.” concluded Ianto.

“Tempt him with what?” asked Owen.

“Some mornings he’d do anything for a bacon sandwich.” offered Ianto.

Owen raised an eyebrow but didn’t pursue it. “Take a look around you, there is a distinct lack of bacon sandwiches on the Plass at 6.30 am”.

“I know,” said Ianto wistfully. “I’ve looked before.”

Before Owen could answer, Jack took another swaying step towards the edge of the roof. They both held their breaths in horror.

“Ianto!” Jack called plaintively. “I feel dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Great! I wish I’d brought an umbrella.” said Owen, trying to calculate quickly the best place to be standing if Jack threw up from that height. He suspected that the spread pattern might be substantial.

“I’ve got an idea. Wait here and don’t go away.” said Ianto. Without stopping to elaborate he disappeared in the direction of the Millennium Centre service entrance at the rear of the building.

Owen took a deep breath, and with one eye on the roof and another on the Plass, which was still empty, he waited to find out what Ianto’s idea was. He hoped it was a good one.

Wednesday 6.37 am, Millennium Centre Roof

Ianto emerged onto the roof and looked around for Jack. It was very chilly, he thought. They needed to get Jack down before he caught his death of cold. That was never a nice way to die, apparently.

“Jack,” called Ianto softly, not wanting to startle the captain into falling off the roof. “Jack, come here, come closer to me. I want you.”

“And I want you too,” slurred Jack, stumbling slightly and nearly losing his footing.

“Easy, take it easy,” cautioned Ianto. “Let’s go down now. It’s cold and you’ve got no clothes on.”

“No. Not going down.” said Jack, the petulant five year old returning. “I like it up here on the roof. I wanna stay the whole day up here. In fact, I want to come and live up here. I’m sick of being underground in the Hub. I’m going to have a tent and live on the roof. And be able to see this view whenever I want.” He flung his arms wide, embracing the view from the roof top. The momentum took him even closer to the edge. And, had anyone been looking, he displayed more of Captain Jack to Cardiff than many might have found appropriate for that time in the morning. Certainly, it was more than Owen wanted to see. At anytime.

Ianto, torn between admiration at the view and horror at the possibility Jack might tumble off at any second, could only watch. He heard a disembodied voice calling his name.

“Yes, Owen?” he said, making his way cautiously towards the edge of the roof so he could see the doctor.

“Have you actually executed your cunning plan to tempt Jack down yet? Because if so, the only benefit of it I’m getting is a full frontal view of his genitals. And I’m fed up with the song. Though to be fair, he just threw in an ‘enwogion o fri’. But if your master plan is simply to teach him the rest of the lyrics, then I’m going home and you can ring me when he’s down; in all senses of the word down.”

“No. You are not going home.” said Ianto, simply but with force. “This is all your fault, you can damn well stick around and help me deal with it.”

Owen was about to protest his innocence, but then had a sudden recollection of his phone ringing when he was in the middle of preparing the nutmeg tea. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that, listening to the alluring tones of the fair Tegan telling him what she planned to do with him, and to him, that evening, he had lost more than a little concentration and had quite forgotten how many nutmegs he’d shoved into the coffee grinder. Consequently he had no idea how much powder was in the infusion he’d given to Jack. He made a mental note that he should also get back to the Hub as soon as possible and clean the remains of the nutmeg out of the coffee machine. It was at this point he realized that he’d also forgotten to tell Ianto to strain the tea. Hopefully, Jack hadn’t downed the liquid and the powder. Surely Ianto, the Teaboy, had had the presence of mind to find a tea strainer and had strained it first? Deep down Owen realized that Jack’s current behaviour clearly indicated that he had ingested the powder too.

“Jack, come on. You have to come down now.” Ianto tried again.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

Ianto sighed. He really didn’t want to do this, but it was the only thing he could think of. Leaving Jack teetering on the edge of the roof, he retreated towards the doorway of the service staircase, from which he’d emerged, and took off his tie. He folded it and put it neatly into his jacket pocket. Then he started to unbutton his jacket. Jack was still oblivious, looking out over Cardiff. Under normal circumstances, Ianto would have been captivated by the view of the taught buttocks, but now all he wanted was to get this over with. He removed his jacket and waistcoat and began on his shirt, which was a vivid shade of red that matched Jack’s bloodshot eyes.

“Jack,” he called softly, hoping that he’d done enough. It was bloody cold on that roof with no shirt on. Jack looked round.

“Mmm, pretty.” he muttered.

“Come over here and tell me how much you like what you see.”

Jack shook his head, the petulant five year old hadn’t left yet. “I wanna see more.”

“No, come here first.”

Jack shook his head so violently Ianto was afraid he’d shake himself off the roof. “More first.” he demanded.

Sighing, resigned, Ianto bent down to unlace his shoes. He knew from experience that trousers didn’t easily come off over shoes and he didn’t fancy being caught off balance and hopping around on the roof with one foot caught in his M&S boxer shorts. He removed his shoes. And then, in one practiced fluid movement, off came his trousers and underwear.

Finally Jack started to become responsive.

“Mmmmm,” he licked his lips. “That’s nice.”

“Come on, love, come here to me.” Ianto tried to coax Jack towards him, towards the door that led to safety.

“How’s it going up there?” shouted Owen’s disembodied voice. “Doesn’t seem to be much happening! But at least he’s stopped singing.”

“Oh, it’s happening up here.” shouted back Ianto. “Believe me, it’s all happening.”

Jack was still resolutely rooted to the spot, his head turned to admire Ianto. Suddenly, all the energy that had been pumping through his veins from the ingested nutmeg high left him.

Ianto watched in horror as Jack started to buckle at the knees, looking as if he were about to faint. He leaped forwards to catch him.

“Come on now Jack, let’s get you off here and somewhere safer.”

“Hey!” called up Owen. “I can see you now. Have you got him?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.” Ianto was supporting almost all of Jack’s weight. Jack was looking tired and bemused.


“Yes, Owen?”

“Er, did you know that you haven’t got any clothes on either?”

“Yes, Owen, I did thank you very much. And very nippy it is up here too. So I would be most obliged if you could get your scrawny ass up here and grab Jack whilst I get dressed. I daren’t let him go in case he escapes.”

As if to prove that point, Jack started to become slightly argumentative, pushing against Ianto, making a grab for his bottom.

Ianto smacked his hand, restrained him, and tilted his face so that he was looking directly into Jack’s eyes. “Jack, come on. Just relax for a few moments. When we get back to the Hub, you can have whatever you want from me.” Ianto was fairly confident that Jack wouldn’t actually stay conscious long enough for him to have to make good on that promise.

“Whatever I want?” Jack’s blue eyes, clouded with confusion, looked beseechingly at Ianto. “Whatever I want? Promise?”

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want. I promise.”

“Ianto, may I have a bacon sandwich?”

Moments later, Ianto heard Owen’s footsteps thundering up the last flight of service steps and the naked Welshman flung open the door just as Owen attempted to open it from the inside. For a moment, Ianto was worried that Owen’s momentum might send him flying off the other side of the roof, but the doctor regained his footing and skidded to a halt, arms flailing.

“About bloody time!” hissed Ianto. “You really need to get fitter. You took ages to get here. Were you waiting for them to build a lift or something?”

“Sorry,” panted Owen. “Something I had to do first.”

Owen took Jack’s sagging weight, half propping and half holding him up against the door while Ianto quickly got dressed again. Owen watched as Ianto zipped up his trousers. Of Jack’s clothes they’d found no sign. Ianto made a mental note to activate the tracker device that was sewn into the seam of Jack’s greatcoat when they got back to the Hub.

“You were quick enough to get your kit off up here.” Owen observed as he watched Ianto reknot his tie. “Why couldn’t you have been more cooperative on Monday?”

“I wasn’t trying to tempt you on Monday, Owen. Or any other day of the week, for that matter.”

“Rest assured, Ianto, you didn’t. And you still haven’t.”

Together, they helped the almost comatose Jack down the stairs and bundled him out of the service entrance and into Owen’s car. Although it was only a short distance across the Plass to the Hub, the first of the early morning pedestrians had started to cross the Plass on their way to work. Although Owen thought they could pass Jack off as a victim of a stag night prank, Ianto vetoed that immediately and insisted on driving back.

Wednesday, 6.00 pm, Ianto’s Bedroom

“How are you feeling now, Jack?”

Jack looked up from the comfort of the bed. He'd burrowed into its warmth and spent the whole day there after Owen had discharged him from his medical care. Owen had then sent both of them home, with instructions to Ianto to just let Jack rest and try to sleep off the overdose but to keep an eye on him and call if he was worried. It could take anything up to 36 hours he reckoned before Jack would really feel OK again.

Jack was feeling too delicate to shout at Owen at the Hub, but the doctor knew that a dressing down was inevitable. And deserved. But, he’d figured, if it was coming his way anyhow, he might as well make it worthwhile.

Ianto came into the bedroom with two cups of coffee and a plate of bacon sandwiches. “Feel like eating yet?” he asked kindly.

Jack tentatively accepted a sandwich, and found to his surprise that he was actually quite hungry and eating didn’t make him feel sick.

“Do you know,” he said, talking through a mouth crammed overfull with bread and bacon, “we were rather lucky that the Plass was quiet this morning. It’s amazing that no one actually saw…’

“…or heard….”

“or heard us. Really lucky.”

Ianto heard the tell-tale flip-flop of the letter box as the evening newspaper plopped onto the doormat. He stood up and went to fetch it.

“Let’s check the television page and see what’s on. I can’t be bothered to go to Blockbusters for a DVD.”

He came back into the bedroom, opening the newspaper straight to page 34 and, holding it open in front of him, he quickly became engrossed in the details of that night’s entertainment.

“Well, sounds like there’s a good play on the radio called ‘Lost Souls’, or we could watch….”. He tailed off, aware that Jack had got out of bed and was on his knees on the floor in front of him. Normally that signaled only one thing, but Owen had told him to rest. Ianto went to swat him away with the newspaper but Jack put up his hand to catch Ianto’s wrist and restrain it as he peered intently at the front page of the newspaper. “Ianto, hold still. I don’t want your body, I want your newspaper.”

“That’s a first, sir.” As he said it, Ianto noticed that Jack’s face was turning deeper and deeper red and his mouth was moving but no words were coming out.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you feeling OK? Are you having a flashback? Shall I ring Owen?”

Still no words came out. It was all Jack could manage to gesture to the front page, most of which was taken up by a grainy photograph. Ianto’s eyes went to the caption, which read “Mystery Men Protest at Millennium Centre.”

“Busy day there today.” He smiled. “First us, then this.”

Jack had by now recovered sufficiently to speak. “Ianto, that is us!”

“WHAT?” squeaked Ianto.

“Listen.” said Jack, then quoted from the paper. “Two mystery men were spotted early today on the roof of the Millennium Center. The nature of their protest is still unknown. This photo was snapped by a passer-by. Although it is not possible to make out the identity of the men, it is clear that one is completely naked and the other is wearing only black socks.”

“But there was no one there in the Plass. We got you down before the first passer-by arrived.” Ianto was perplexed.

“Does Owen by any chance have a camera in his mobile phone?” asked Jack.

They lunged for the phone on the bedside cabinet simultaneously.

Owen, wisely, didn’t answer. He knew he’d have enough to answer for later.


Solsbury Girl



Nicked off of BitterSweet Alias's Profile ~


Likes/Dislikes In A Fic -

Dislikes -

Graphic Rape, Brushed over non-con isn't so bad, but Graphic Rape usually gives me a stomach ache.

Story Without Harry/Someone pairing - I can take everyone else being lonely but little Harry is along enough! I need him with someone else otherwise I will get sadly bored. Even if it's just a very small hint or light slashiness... it makes a whirl of difference when reading a high flying adventure or angst. It levels things out.

Beastiality - Okay, that's just kind of creepy. I've read two and wondered why I read it afterwards. I am an open minded gal but that goes a little far... unless it's Luna because I can actually picture it sadly. (laughs)

1 update every 2 years - No matter the synopsis or writing talent, if a story has Ex: 5 Chapters story started 2006 and just updated now... I'm not going to read it... chances are it would have to have 25+ with decent size Chapters in itself to capture my interest. Getting interested in a story with five chapters and never an updating is disconcerting.

That's all really! I like most things, I can even read Incest if it's written properly simply because this is a fandom... not reality. I don't like it in reality but fandom I can become intrigued. That's fantasy for you!

Likes -

Everything that wasn't listed above I can enjoy.

Kingsley and Blaise Zabini:

Somehow I picture both of them looking similar to this! Keep in mind I don't follow the movies versions. That clouds my creativity. You can take it for what you want but for me. I believe it's quite drool worthy. (grins)

Kingsley and Blaise Zabini

Shippers, that I adore

Harry/Remus, Harry/Neville, Harry/Cedric, Harry/Voldemort, Harry/Sirius, Harry/Lucius, Harry/James (Sometimes), Harry/Bill, Harry/Charlie, Harry/George or Fred, Harry/ Blaise, Harry/Severus, Harry/Seamus, Harry/Dean, Harry/Ron, Harry/OC, Harry/Oliver, Harry/Salazar, Harry/Percy, Harry/Marcus Flint, Harry/Regulus, Harry/Antonin Dolohov, Harry/Any Death Eater, Harry/Any Slytherin, Harry/Any Ravenclaw, Harry/Any Hufflepuff, Harry/Rodolphus, Harry/Godric, Harry/Kingsley, Harry/Viktor, Harry/Legolas, Harry/Aragorn, Harry/Halidir, Harry/Angel, Harry/Spike, Harry/Clark, Harry/Lex, Harry/Other (??) Harry/Edward (from Twilight), Harry/Emmett, Harry/Jasper, Harry/Jacob, Harry/Carlisle.

Harry/Bellatrix, Harry/Tonks, Harry/Luna (My fav of the bunch), and Harry/Narcissa

As you can see I like Harry base stories. They're nice to read and I can't ever get tired of them. Every so often I like a Remus point of view but I do prefer the cute powerful little wizard with the brightest eyes in the world. :) Occasionally, I will step out of the Harry trait and read a Hermione/Severus but it's not often.

Pairings I am not fond of... one's you'll barely see me write if at all.

Harry/Ginny (Shivers)

Harry/Draco (I've read too many and only a couple I still follow IE: Kamerreon or Branwen)

Harry/Any girl basically that's not above in the ones that are a rarity. I like my sweet smaller version of Harry for that.

Lily/Severus (despite the fact that it's in Emerald Twilight, I really really don't like this pairing.)

Ron/Luna (Luna's too good for that!)

Ginny/Draco (I don't like Ginny in any way shape or form to be honest.)

Remus/Tonks (Canon be damned. I hate this pairing with a passion.)

Favourite Characters

Harry Potter (my version and any slash version or a version that could go with Luna)

Voldemort/Tom (God, I love him)

Severus Snape (He's a fun character to manipulate)

Luna Lovegood (Only female that I think rocks completely

Lucius Malfoy (same reason for Sev)

Remus Lupin (Oh, I've always adored him. Always, always always.)

Dumbledore (I can hate and love)

Much Hated Characters -

Lily Evans/Potter ( No! I hate her guts. Why? Don't ask me, I just do!)

Ginny Weasley (I used to not mind her, honestly. But I'm not overly fond of her. I think Fanfiction sort of started it. But - ah - well.

Mrs. Weasley (Oh goodness, in the books I disliked her and in fanon I disliked her. There is no winning with this woman though I will write her all ways same as the others I hate. Though I really really like her in my new story, Precious and Fragile)

Dumbledore (I can hate and love)

The Dursleys (of course) (though I do have a soft spot for Petunia)


Nicked off of Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain's Profile

Also, WAT fans, there should be plenty of crossover publication (here and there), but I am doing: 100 Fics, a challenge to write 100 fics about one character. They'll all be right there, for easy access.

"They say I'm crazy but I have a good time"
- J.Walsh

That pretty much sums it... except:

"Crude, immoral, vulgar, and senseless."
- Tolstoy on Shakespeare

"I can't read ten pages of Steinbeck without throwing up."
- James Gould Cozzens (1903-1978)

Do I agree with the above? Not necessarily... but they are here to show that every bad review puts me in very good company.

"Writing is a profession where you have to keep proving your talent to people who have none."
- Jules Renard (1864-1910)

"Though we have sometimes had different ideas... keep your beliefs."
- Bryan S.

"The rule is perfect: in all matters of opinion our adversaries are insane."
- Mark Twain

"Everybody experiences far more than he understands. Yet it is experience, rather than understanding, that influences behavior."
- Marshall Mcluhan

"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be
prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished;
persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. By Order of the
Author." - Mark Twain

"You see things as they are and ask, 'Why?' I dream things as they never were and ask, 'Why not?'"
- George Bernard Shaw



Blame it on the Fangirls :- WRITTEN BY atromiti

Blame it on the Fangirls

Murphy’s law states that if anything can go wrong, it will.

Handcuffed to a wooden electrical pole on the roof of a Jump high-rise, exhausted, trapped, and slightly traumatized, Robin couldn’t help but feel that Murphy was something of an optimist.

I’m not going to say that this can’t possibly get any worse, thought Robin, because then it’ll obviously start to—

It began to drizzle.

OK, yeah.

The rain plastered his hair over his mask and seeped through his tattered uniform to chill his skin. And then things started to go downhill.


Robin whipped his head around so fast he gave himself whiplash. Completely unnecessary; he couldn’t see and didn’t really need to.

“Huh,” said Red X, and then there was silence.

OK. He really needed to say something authoritative, like get me the hell out of these handcuffs and maybe I’ll knock off some of the misdemeanor charges.

“So…” said Red, dragging the word out.

“Yeah,” said Robin, and hoped he wasn’t turning red.

His less hindered senses informed him that Red was circling. Red tapped a couple times on the handcuffs while Robin’s fingers twitched threateningly. “Kinky.”


“May I ask what you’re doing up here?” Red said sweetly, ignoring this.

“Oh, nothing much,” said Robin acridly. “Never mind that I have a city to defend from psychotic villains, friends who are probably wondering where I am, and a keen desire to put on a shirt that hasn’t been shredded to pieces…”

Red vented a long-suffering sigh. “Y’know, a vacation might be just what you need.” He turned.

“Wait!” Robin called out before he could stop himself. Red X turned back with exaggerated deliberation. “Look, I’ve—I’ve been here for hours. They took my lock picks and I’m still really weak from whatever it was they put in my Gatorade.”

“They? Who’s ‘they?’”

Robin mumbled something.

“What was that, kid?” He took a step closer.

Robin’s face was bright red. “Fangirls.”

Red stared. Thunder cracked a couple times.

And then Red X started to laugh so hard that he almost toppled over.

“Stop it.”


“It’s not funny.”

Gales of laughter.



Robin gave it up as a lost cause. Red X, however, didn’t know when to quit. “Kid, only you would be assaulted by a flock of fangirls. Hero Boy’s adoring fans! Each determined to be the one to claim his virginity!”

“You obnoxious little parasite! When I get out of here, I’m going to—” He struggled fruitlessly for a few minutes while Red X watched before giving up and slumping again. “You’re going to be in big trouble,” he said halfheartedly.

“Really?” Red crouched down in front of him and leaned forward until Robin was pressing his back into the pole. “Well, if I’m already in trouble…what have I got to lose?”

The mask slipped upwards a little bit, and Robin’s day took a turn for the better.

 by atromiti



A List of Stereotypes - STEREOTYPING =/= GOOD

A List of Stereotypes

~For people that hate stereotypes: If you think people should just shut up and stop, put this on your profile. (BOLD the ones you are.)~

I'm SKINNY, so I MUST be anorexic.

I'm EMO, so I MUST cut my wrists.

I'm a NEGRO so I MUST carry a gun.

I'm BLONDE, so I MUST be a ditz

I'm JAMAICAN so I MUST smoke weed.

I'm HAITIAN so I MUST eat cat.

I'm ASIAN, so I MUST be sexy.

I'm JEWISH, so I MUST be greedy.

I'm GAY, so I MUST have AIDS.

I'm a LESBIAN, so I MUST have a sex-tape.

I'm ARAB, so I MUST be a terrorist.

I SPEAK MY MIND, so I MUST be a bitch.

I'm a CHRISTAN, so I MUST think gay people should go to hell.

I'm a GAY RIGHTS SUPPORTER, so I WILL go to hell.

I'm RELIGIOUS, so I MUST shove my beliefs down your throat.

I'm ATHEIST so I MUST hate the world.

I don't have a RELIGION, so I MUST be evil and have no morals

I'm REPUBLICAN, so I MUST not care about poor people.

I'm DEMOCRAT, so I MUST not believe in being responsible.

I am LIBERAL, so I MUST be gay.

I'm SOUTHERN, so I MUST be white trash.

I TAKE (or used to take) ANTI-DEPRESSANTS, so I MUST be crazy.

I'm a GUY, so I MUST only want to get into your pants.

I'm (part) IRISH, so I MUST have a bad drinking problem.

I'm INDIAN, so I MUST own a convenient store.

I'm NATIVE AMERICAN, so I MUST dance around a fire screaming like a savage.

I'm a CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be a whore...

I'm a DANCER, So I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore

I wear SKIRTS a lot, so I MUST be a slut.

I'm a PUNK, so I MUST do drugs.

I'm RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob.

I WEAR BLACK, so I MUST be a goth or emo.

I'm a WHITE GIRL, so I MUST be a nagging, steal-your-money kind of girlfriend.

I'm CUBAN, so I MUST spend my spare time rolling cigars.

I'm NOT A VIRGIN, so I MUST be easy.

I FELL IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED MAN, so I MUST be a home-wrecking whore.

I'm a TEENAGE MOM, so I MUST be an irresponsible slut.

I'm POLISH, so I MUST wear my socks with my sandals

I'm ITALIAN, so I must have a "big one".

I'm EGYPTIAN, so I must be a TERRORIST!

I'm PRETTY, so I MUST not be a virgin.

I HAVE STRAIGHT A'S, so I MUST have no social life.

I DYE MY HAIR CRAZY COLORS, so I MUST be looking for attention.

I'm a VEGETARIAN, so I MUST be a crazy political activist.

I DRESS IN UNUSUAL WAYS so I MUST be looking for attention.

I'm INTO THEATER & ART, so I MUST be a homosexual.

I HAVE A BUNCH OF GUY FRIENDS, so I MUST be fucking them all.


I have Big BOOBS, so I MUST be a hoe.

I'm COLOMBIAN, so I MUST be a drug dealer.

I WEAR WHAT I WANT, so I MUST be a poser.

I'm RUSSIAN, so I MUST be cool and thats how Russians roll.

I'm GERMAN, so I must be a Nazi.

I hang out with GAYS/BISEXUALS, so I must be GAY/BISEXUAL TOO


I'm PUERTO RICAN, so I MUST look good and be conceited

I'm SALVADORIAN, so I MUST be in MS 13

I'm POLISH, so I MUST be greedy

I'm HAWAIIAN so I MUST be lazy

I'm PERUVIAN, so I MUST like llamas

I'm a STONER so I MUST be going in the wrong direction

I'm a VIRGIN so I MUST be prude

I'm STRAIGHT EDGE so I must be violent.

I'm a FEMALE GAMER, so I MUST be ugly.. or crazy.

I'm BLACK so I MUST love fried chicken and kool-aid.

I'm a GIRL who actually EATS LUNCH, so I MUST be fat.

I'm a PUNK so I must only wear black and date only other punks

I'm SINGLE so I MUST be ugly.

I'm a SKATER so I must do weed and steal stuff

I'm ASIAN so I must be a NERD that does HOMEWORK 24/7

I'm CHRISTIAN so I MUST hate homosexuals.

I'm MIXED so I must be screwed up.

I'm MUSLIM so I MUST be a terrorist.

I'm in BAND, so I MUST be a dork.


I'm MORMON so I MUST be perfect

I'm WHITE and have black friends so I MUST think I'm black

I'm GOTH so I MUST worship the devil (So I’ve been told)

I'm HISPANIC, so I MUST be dirty.


I'm OVERWEIGHT, so I MUST have a problem with self control.

I'm PREPPY, so I MUST shun those who don't wear Abercrombie & Hollister.

I'm on a DANCE team, so I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore.

I'm YOUNG, so I MUST be naive.

I'm RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob

I'm MEXICAN, so I MUST have hopped the border.

I GOT A CAR FOR MY BIRTHDAY, so I MUST be a spoiled brat.

I'm BLACK, so I MUST love watermelon

I'm BI, so I MUST think every person I see is hot.

I'm an ASIAN GUY, so I MUST have a small penis.

I'm a GUY CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be gay.

I'm a PREP, so I MUST be rich.

I don't like the SUN so I MUST be an albino.

I have a lot of FRIENDS, so I MUST love to drink and party.

I wear tight PANTS and I'm a guy, so I MUST be emo.

I couldn't hurt a FLY, So I MUST be a pussy.

I support GAY RIGHTS, so I MUST fit in with everyone.

I have ARTISTIC TALENT, so I MUST think little of those who don't.

I have a DIFFERENT sense of HUMOR, so I MUST be crazy.

I tell people OFF, so I MUST be an over controlling bitch.

My hair gets GREASY a lot, so I MUST have no hygiene skills.

I hang out with teenage drinkers and smokers, so I MUST smoke and drink too.

I don't like to be in a BIG GROUP, so I MUST be anti-social.

I'm DEFENSIVE, so I MUST be over controlling and a bitch.

I'm a NUDIST, so I MUST want everyone to see my boobs.

I read Comics, so I MUST be a loser.

I hang out with a FORMER PROSTITUTE.. So I MUST be a whore myself.

I'm TEXAN so I MUST ride a horse

I’m a GOTH, so I MUST be a Satanist

I’m a CROSSDRESSER, so I must be homosexual.

I draw ANIME so I MUST be a freak.

I am a FANGIRL so I MUST be a crazy, obsessed stalker.

I WATCH PORN so I MUST be perverted.

I'm an ONLY CHILD so I MUST be spoiled.

I'm INTELLIGENT so I MUST be weak.

I am AMERICAN so I MUST be obese, loud-mouthed and arrogant.

I'm WELSH so I MUST love sheep

I’m a YOUNG WRITER, so I MUST be emo.

I’m CANADIAN, so I MUST talk with a funny accent.

I'm a GUY, so I MUST ditch my pregnant girlfriend.

I'm CANADIAN, so I MUST love hockey and beavers.

I'm DISABLED, so I MUST be on Welfare.

I'm a FEMINIST, so I MUST have a problem with sexuality and I want to castrate every man on the earth.


I WEAR A BIG SUNHAT when I go outside, so I MUST be stupid.

I like BLOOD, so I must be a VAMPIRE.

I'm an ALBINO, so I MUST be an evil person with mental abilities and is A MURDERER!

I'm ENGLISH, so I MUST speak with either a cockney or a posh accent, love tea and cricket, and have bad teeth.

I’m WHITE, so I MUST be responsible for everything going wrong on the planet: past, present, and future.

I don't like YAOI or YURI, so I must be a HOMOPHOBE

I’m not the most POPULAR person in school, so I MUST be a loser

I care about the ENVIRONMENT...I MUST be a tree hugging hippy

I have a FAN CHARACTER, so I MUST be an annoying Mary-sue.

I CHAT, I MUST be having cyber sex.

I'm PAGAN so I MUST sacrifice babies and drink the blood of virgins

I'm PAGAN so I MUST worship Satan

I'm CONSERVATIVE, so I MUST be against Abortion

I'm SWEDISH so I MUST be a tall blond blue-eyed lesbian.

I'm a LESBIAN so I MUST want to get with every single girl that I see.


I have my OWN spiritual ideology; therefore I MUST be WRONG or MISGUIDED.

I like READING, so I MUST be a LONER.


I DISAGREE with my government, so I MUST be a TERRORIST.

I am a WITCH, so I MUST be and OLD HAG and fly on a broomstick.

I love YAOI, so I MUST be GAY.


I DON'T CURSE, so I MUST be an outcast

I like GAMES, ANIME and COMICS, so I MUST be childish

I'm SWEDISH, therefore I MUST be WHITE.

I SPOT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, so I MUST be a pedantic bastard.

I'm GOTHIC, so I MUST be mean.

I’m STRONG so I MUST be stupid.

I'm Australian so I MUST hunt crocodiles and talk to kangaroo’s

I go to RENFAIRES, so I MUST talk weird, be a loser, and not be up with the times

I’m GAY so I’m after EVERY straight guy around.

I don’t want a BOYFRIEND so I MUST be Lesbian.

I'm NOT CHRISTIAN so I MUST just need converting.

I love marching band, so I MUST be a friendless freak.

I DRINK and SMOKE, so I MUST have no life.

I can't help pointing out mistakes so I MUST be an over-controlling perfectionist

I'm a PERFECTIONIST so I MUST check everything ten times, them burst into tears at one mistake

I DON'T LIKE to talk about my personal life so I MUST be having problems.

I'm INTO THEATRE & ART, so I MUST be a homosexual.

I SPEAK MY MIND, so I MUST be a bitch.

I’m A GOOD LIAR, so I MUST be an actor/actress

I LIKE TO BE MYSELF, so I MUST be cocky and arrogant

I’m a BOHEMIAN, so I MUST be a lazy drug addict

I LOVE ANIMALS, so I MUST be a vegetarian

I’m a TREEHUGGER, so I MUST be a drug addicted hippie

I’m a MUSICIAN, so I MUST not be doing anything with my life

I have GOOD GRADES, so I MUST be a nerd

I have GREEN SKIN so I MUST be a Wicked Witch

I'm a STAR WARS FAN so I MUST be a geek

I'm an ACTOR /ACTRESS so I MUST be mean

I GO TO AN ALL GIRLS SCHOOL so I MUST be boy crazy or a lesbian

I PLAY THE VIOLA so I MUST be an idiot