beware of puns

For a moment, he thinks it's dirt, or a marker, and then he pushes up his shirt sleeve and sees the thick black lines on the inside of his forearm.

"Look," Sherlock began again, "you keep saving my life. And touching me," and hm, that wasn’t as conclusive as it had seemed in his head.

It's as if he's got a loaded gun lying about.

A True Blood story, Eric/Sookie.

"Iowa," Ray repeats. "Fucking Iowa. We're trapped in Iowa."

"Oh, you just like saying Iowa," I say, raising my paper again.

0X00000001522D PRELIMINARY STATUS CHECK COMPLETE
0X00000001522E BEGINNING INITIALIZATION OF PRIORITY SYSTEMS
0X000000015234 NUTRITION GENERATION: INITIALIZED
0X000000015239 NUTRITION GENERATION: CHECK

"You mean that sometimes people have sex when they shouldn't? Gee, I don't believe it."

Johnny glanced down nervously at the exhibition program in his hand: Paranormal Phenomena in the 19th Century: Mediums, Spiritualists, and Psychics.

Ray braced one hand on the beer-soaked bar. "What you got over there? Terrorists? Killers? Mad bomber?"

"Olga," Fraser said inexplicably.

I am not the only person here who wants a do-over.

"I'm the one wearing the dress, if you'd deign to notice."

Author's notes: Ok, this story is a sort of hommage to a famous science fiction author. If we tell you who it is, we'll ruin it. The answer is at the back of the story, for the curious. (g) Mild spoilers for TS by BS: in fact, the story is sort of our slant rhyme response to the ep.

It wasn't fair; most people only got held to regular U.S. law, where you couldn't be tried for things you hadn't done yet. It was just his luck that he was being tried by the laws of theoretical physics, where you were accountable for everything you did in two galaxies and ten dimensions.

February 22, 2008
"So, uh," Wharton said, with a little nervous cough. "You're not so much his mathematician as you are his—mathematician."

The world blurred by as Ellison reacted, throwing himself forward and using all his weight to knock the guy off his partner, grabbing the big, meaty hands and ripping them off Sandburg's neck. And the ape was stupid enough to fight him, but he was slow and lumbering in his movements.

(for the SGA_Flashfic "Left Behind" Challenge)
"Any plans for shore leave?" Rodney asks, and this time Sheppard doesn't even look at him.

Sandburg was awake, Sandburg was sitting downstairs in the dark — hell, what time was it? Four-thirty. *Four-thirty?* and Sandburg's heart was pounding, Sandburg was downstairs, in the living room, fucking freaking — freaking the fuck out by the suppressed sounds and scents of him.

really interesting comment thread about fic and fannon

Don't shoot!" Rodney yelled, leaping up, onto his knees, and waving his hands, afraid that Sheppard was going to blow his alter-ego to blazes. "He's me! I think!

"Just--the Mountie love fest. It's everywhere. It's like disco. It sucks."

Skilled Worker Self-Assessment - Page One

"I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father--"

"Sh." Ray cups Fraser's chin in his hand and rubs Fraser's lips with

"It's, uh...oh, God," groaned Jim. "It's pheromones, okay?"

"I'm not gay, Rodney," John says, and it's awkward to have to say it, but it really has to be said.

Teyla had heard an Atlantian aphorism that seemed to express it: "I wouldn't throw him out of bed."

Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011.

Cesperanza

fanfic site for Cesperanza