The Author
Disclaimer: I own nothing and made nothing. I have nothing so please don't try to sue me! (No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.)
This story is dedicated to Adam, the King of pr0n.
The author sat at her desk putting the finishing touches on her latest story. It was yet another of her rather twisted tales in an expanding collection of comedy crossovers. Her desk was littered with her ever- present muses all of whom looked bored stiff. Raphael (of Touched by an Angel) sat discussing the finer points of being an angel with the Metatron (the voice of God in Dogma) in one corner. Snape (Harry Potter), Klorel (Stargate SG-1), and Joey Garza (Lonesome Dove: Streets of Laredo) were trading secrets of torture and cruelty and using diagrams to illustrate their ideas on the left side of the monitor. Skaara (Stargate SG-1) and Legolas (Lord of the Rings) were playing hopscotch together in front of her keyboard. Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1) snoozed lightly on her shoulder. Her other muses had already gone home for the day, but these few were the real die hards.
"Are you ready for bed yet?" a soft masculine voice interrupted her thoughts.
"I'll be there in a minute, sweetheart,' she said as she turned and smiled at her real life true love.
He nodded and yawned as he smiled at her. He bent down and gently kissed her forehead before heading off to bed.
"What's so great about him?" Klorel grumbled as he and all of her other muses glared at the one lucky enough to be called "sweetheart."
"He's real." the author said softly as she saved the file that she had been working on. ".and he's mine."
A number of her softer hearted muses smiled at the tenderness in her voice and started herding the others off to where ever it is that muses go when they're not inspiring people.
The author wished them all a good night and followed he love to bed. She felt happier doing this than anything that she had done all day. Her muses only thought of her as beautiful and perfect because she told them that she was. Her real love didn't mind that she wasn't the most beautiful or perfect woman that had ever existed; he loved her just the way that she was. He felt the same depth of love that she felt for him.
The author knew something that many of us often forget. We all know that reality is stranger than fiction, but we sometimes forget that it can also be better when we let it.
A/N This is a challenge for any and all fanfiction writers who read this! If you do not like this story and want to tell me just how wrong I am about reality and fiction then I ask you to write a fanfiction story telling why I'm wrong and post the link to your story in the review section! All other flames will be used to set fire to my friend's buttocks! LOL
Disclaimer: I own nothing and made nothing. I have nothing so please don't try to sue me! (No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.)
This story is dedicated to Adam, the King of pr0n.
The author sat at her desk putting the finishing touches on her latest story. It was yet another of her rather twisted tales in an expanding collection of comedy crossovers. Her desk was littered with her ever- present muses all of whom looked bored stiff. Raphael (of Touched by an Angel) sat discussing the finer points of being an angel with the Metatron (the voice of God in Dogma) in one corner. Snape (Harry Potter), Klorel (Stargate SG-1), and Joey Garza (Lonesome Dove: Streets of Laredo) were trading secrets of torture and cruelty and using diagrams to illustrate their ideas on the left side of the monitor. Skaara (Stargate SG-1) and Legolas (Lord of the Rings) were playing hopscotch together in front of her keyboard. Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1) snoozed lightly on her shoulder. Her other muses had already gone home for the day, but these few were the real die hards.
"Are you ready for bed yet?" a soft masculine voice interrupted her thoughts.
"I'll be there in a minute, sweetheart,' she said as she turned and smiled at her real life true love.
He nodded and yawned as he smiled at her. He bent down and gently kissed her forehead before heading off to bed.
"What's so great about him?" Klorel grumbled as he and all of her other muses glared at the one lucky enough to be called "sweetheart."
"He's real." the author said softly as she saved the file that she had been working on. ".and he's mine."
A number of her softer hearted muses smiled at the tenderness in her voice and started herding the others off to where ever it is that muses go when they're not inspiring people.
The author wished them all a good night and followed he love to bed. She felt happier doing this than anything that she had done all day. Her muses only thought of her as beautiful and perfect because she told them that she was. Her real love didn't mind that she wasn't the most beautiful or perfect woman that had ever existed; he loved her just the way that she was. He felt the same depth of love that she felt for him.
The author knew something that many of us often forget. We all know that reality is stranger than fiction, but we sometimes forget that it can also be better when we let it.
A/N This is a challenge for any and all fanfiction writers who read this! If you do not like this story and want to tell me just how wrong I am about reality and fiction then I ask you to write a fanfiction story telling why I'm wrong and post the link to your story in the review section! All other flames will be used to set fire to my friend's buttocks! LOL