LONG LIVE THE CRACK.

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Today is like a really demented Christmas! Woo!

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Oh, I adore you Plei.

Damn. Just ... damn.

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You know, this crack stuff? Addictive.

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::gah::

::wibble::

::ggnnahh::

Ms. Marcontell, you are pure evil. We need a Winchester to exorcise anything close to het in your repertoire and let you only write slash.

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You know, this crack stuff? Addictive.

You mean like wanting a whole series of genderswappedDean and other characters, like Betty and/or Veronica, or the Bring it on girls, or Tara, or Mac from Veronica Mars? That kind of addictive?

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Plei, you just decided my next year Halloween costume. I'ma be Velma.

Keep on the lookout for a orange t-neck, and kneesocks, yo.

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genderswappedDean and other characters

You mean like Max from DA and then Alec can catch them in flagrante delecto (sp)?

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Last night's viewing led me to this. I plan to have new parts up every Wednesday. (House/Gilmore Girls) Tuesday Night Crossover Fic

Chapter One: Collision With Destiny

“God, Mom,” Lorelai complained. “I don’t understand you sometimes...which I know is like the understatement of the millenium, but this time I think I have medical science on my side. And not just that big blue book of Rory’s...the what-do-you-call-it?”

”DSM-4,” Rory said, and cursed her usual instinct to be helpful.

“Is that like Led Zeppelin Four?”

”Not exactly, no.” Emily said, tartly. Sometimes she spoke as if she spent her whole life tongue-kissing Macintosh apples.

“Dad just had a heart attack, had surgery and now you want to put him on the train...to New Jersey, no less, to get prodded by *more* doctors? Unbelievable.”

”Have some perspective, Lorelai, please. It’s not as if I’m dropping him off at Dempsy County Hospital...Dr. House works in Princeton, and went to Hopkins. Bitsy van Houten says he’s a miracle worker.”

Lorelai sighed. “And, God knows, when it comes to life and death,< you can’t get enough input from somebody named ‘Bitsy”.

Emily stood. “Don’t be smart. She’s only been on that board since Jesus was a boy. She wouldn’t still be on it if she didn’t know anything.”

“Yeah, I’m sure her crapzillion dollars didn’t hurt her there at all.”

“I never raised you to be so crass.”

”That’s what makes it so impressive. I’m completely self-taught. Not a single lesson, unless you count Twisted Sister videos.”

“What do you think, kiddo?” Lorelai asked Rory.

”Well, actually, Mom, from my googling, Dr. House does seem like a pretty impressive diagnostics expert. I think Paris has a crush on him. But, Grandma, do we *need* a diagnostics expert? His current doctor thinks it’s pretty simple, for heart surgery, I mean.”

“What do you expect? He went to Harvard.”

“I think that’s taking rivalry kind of far, don’t you?”

• * *

Cuddy walked into House’s office looking put-upon and even less inclined than usual to play their usual games. Her period was still a few weeks off and HCFA inspection wasn’t until April. He’d even been a little more careful about what he said after the whole Tritter nightmare. Not that anybody but Wilson and Cuddy knew him enough to notice. What? He pushed up on the rented chair’s wheelie bars just to give Cuddy a good look at his sweaty, “Coming Home” biceps, but if she noticed anything, she didn’t respond.
“Here’s your next case,” she said.” And lose the chair.”

”Ooh, golly, some rich guy had an infarct in his foie gras. I can see why you came to me, seeing as that never happens.”

“I know... but you gotta do it, okay?” Was that an actual sympathetic expression? But she tried to make her Bitch face like usual. “Think of it as a condition of your parole.”
”Why, Dr. Cuddenstein, are you killing me softly? I’m sure you’re not feeling guilty because I’d find it more interesting working on the goose.”

“My name’s not Cuddenstein, and what goose?”

”The one with the yummy, yummy, liver, of course.”

“Look, House, I’ve just spent three miserable hours on the phone with the love-spawn of Eleanor Roosevelt and a rottweiler getting stuck with this case. Not in the mood doesn’t cover it, all right?”

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”Not exactly, no.” Emily said, tartly. Sometimes she spoke as if she spent her whole life tongue-kissing Macintosh apples.

I love this line and want to marry it.

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