Salt, for rimming the glass (optional)
Ice
1 1/2 ounces tequila (blanco, 100 percent agave)
1 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
1/2 ounce Cointreau (not Triple Sec)

1 1/4 pounds frozen sliced peaches
10 ounces reposado tequila, such as El Espolòn or Cazadores
4 ounces Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur
3 ounces freshly squeezed lime juice (from about 6 medium limes)
2 ounces peach liqueur
2 ounces Simple Syrup
3 cups ice

The Pevensie's go to war in the real world

Martin is going to have a perfect wedding if it kills ... well, everyone but Debi. And Marcella and Bart.

Thor and his esteem issues and his magical sentient hammer go hunting for tricksters in Jotunheim.

5 Times Lilo and Stitch Meet the Avengers and 1 Time they meet Loki

"So let me get this straight… You’ve never jerked off. Like… ever."

Kris flushes, looking down on his hands because it's way better than looking up at Adam's flabbergasted face.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he mutters.

Since humanity first started spreading across the land, pushing dragons back by sheer numbers, tensions have been high between the species. War is nearly endless, and Prince Tony, the half-human heir of the dragons, is sick of it. When King Howard of the dragons is poisoned, the fate of everything sits in the balance. In desperation to save his own life and to prevent decades of fighting over the throne, Tony sets off to find a cure.

Down in the foothills, Legati Steven of the human army finds himself with a missing friend and assassin, a suspiciously cagy adviser to the ruler and a desperate need to be less interesting. In the interests of scuttling his own career, he starts on his own mission to find his answers. When he runs into Tony, they discover just how complicated things really are.

It is beginning to seem as though the remarkable has to have a place in my life, that it is as necessary as the practical. I am curious where I ever got the idea it had to be one or the other. But where does anybody get dumb ideas?

Probably school.

although it happens all the time on TV and in the movies, cops can't actually commandeer your car out of traffic to chase bad guys.

And after all this time that I've been driving around thinking: Maybe today will be the day!

When I was around 6 or 7, my dad had some kind of job that required him to drop off some paperwork at one of the local UHF stations near us in Boston. I guess we were gonna go into the city with him after and do something fun, so me and my sister M tagged along and he brought us into the station, leaving us in the reception area with very specific orders to behave and not touch anything, bother anyone.

I was tremendously excited and had been since the minute we had pulled into the parking lot and I realized where we were- I think it was channel 56. Having no more of an idea how TV works then than I do now, I assumed that since we watched Star Trek on channel 56, this must be where Mr Spock worked.

So, naturally, the minute my dad was out of sight, I went right over the the lady seated at the big counter/desk looking thing. I could feel my older sister practically explode into total silence on the vinyl sofa behind me- two warring forces would have been tearing her apart 1) the urge to blurt out that I better sit back down because talking to grown ups was definitely NOT behaving myself and 2) the urge to remain well-behaved, still and silent and allow me to complete my naughty act so that she could report it to my dad when he finally came back to collect us.

I did NOT care.

This was IMPORTANT.

Who knew if I would ever have this opportunity again?

So I asked the receptionist if Mr Spock was in.

I wish I could remember the expression on her face.

She explained to me that Mr Spock was not, in fact, in that day; it was his day off. But if I wanted to leave him a message, she could write it down and make sure he got it when he came in again.

I have no idea what message a 7 year old me would have left for Mr Spock- I know George Lucas got an invite to my birthday five years later, so I'm guessing somewhere in my note there was an offer to chill. Or marry me. Or something.

In other news eurughghhhghghghh I hate adulthood, making decisions is awful and terrifying on a constant basis. I CAN'T EVEN DECIDE WHERE TO EAT LUNCH, I WENT INTO FOUR DIFFERENT CAFES TODAY BEFORE I DECIDED, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE IMPORTANT CHOICES THAT MATTER

Child is a.) within the first flush of reading a new pairing and is b.) fifteen, so when he demands Dean/Castiel recs, I am not required to hysterically evaluate for quality lest he judge me not so silently (he is not silent, ever). Or even read it, really, because, and I say this with love, he is a teenager and I've seen what he's reading; he does not know the difference between Godiva and Hershey, or even perhaps Godiva and brown colored substances that may or may not even be chocolate, if I can be blunt here.

Also, I'm pretty sure though not entirely that he may or may not be writing it himself, and because I value his privacy, I am not checking any word doc with a suspicious title but dear God I want to.

Parenting is hard. Like, drugs, alcohol, knocking people up, bullying, etc, those weren't too bad for parenting decisions, but honestly, do I or do I not read his fic is my big ethical dilemma. I suspect my ethics will deteriorate if he doesn't change his password soon. He's got to learn the magic of using ones with more than ten characters and throw some numbers and special characters in. I mean, if you think about it, it's almost like a life lesson in passwords. That's a very--parental duty, really.

You know. Sometimes you feel like you're in for a fun beta when the first comment you see is this:

Tazer’s clearly asexual. Patrick’s pulled out all the stops in his not-so-inconsiderable repertoire and this is the only conclusion. Tazer’s like one of those plants that can’t mate [ha!!! maybe a bit more here? because aren’t most plants actually both sexes? it’s amoebas that are asexual.. i would just love to hear kaner’s thoughts on plant sex].

And honestly, it's something I was considering, but then it's like, what *are* Kaner's thoughts on plant sex. I GUESS WE ARE ABOUT TO FIND OUT.

Boy meets girl, girl falls in love with boy, girl is secretly a wizard, girl kills mentor and faces White Council, has boy's baby. Not exactly the stuff of fairytales, but with Harriet Blackstone Copperfield Dresden so few things ever are. Even with the fairy godmother and company in tow.

Harry gets invited on a date by everyone’s favorite mob boss, and then things get weird.

When cynical wizard John Constantine is flung from his universe to Harry Dresden's in an attempt to prevent his interfering with Titania's plans, it's up to both of them to foil her and her allies in both universes, save an assortment of innocents from Hell and rescue a certain crime lord who's caught in the middle...while Harry deals with revelations about his family that he'd never even imagined.

“Why red?” Pepper asks as she watches Tasha paint her lips crimson.

It matches her black hair and pale complexion. Snow White allusions have been made aplenty. She likes the way it looks on others, on the men and women she kisses, marking them.

“They want blood,” Tasha tells Pepper’s reflection, whose hair is red, too, in its own way.

She smiles wolfishly. “And I always give them what they want.”

Scorpius has a stutter. Al has a way with words. Draco discovers their unlikely relationship.

The Northwest Territories are harsh, but Fraser's family has a history of sticking around

“Tony, for the good of the country, we should get married.”

Five Women Cary Agos Talks About In Bed.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come up with this.”

“Why would I?” she asks, because it honestly hadn’t occurred to her to think that.

“Me and Abed having sex was the best idea ever,” Troy says. “Someone who comes up with an idea like that, I expect them to come up with something as awesome as adding you to it too.”

It's Rory who finds the first stranger who had wandered into the TARDIS (well, technically the second stranger, but they won't find the first one for another twenty minutes, and since the second stranger wouldn't have wandered in if the first stranger hadn't strode off into the blue box in the first place, it's really all the first stranger's fault anyway). The second stranger (though Rory's first) is a short blond man who looks less enraptured with the fantastical environment of the console room and more like halfway on his way to livid.

"Uh," Rory begins thoughtfully. "Hello."

"D'you live here?" the short man asks, quick and brusque and he sounds like he's used to being overlooked when he tosses out important questions.

"Sort of," Rory says slowly. "Most of the time. Um, excuse me but," he walks down the steps to the console (where the short man is standing, though not close enough to the myriad instruments and levers and flashing buttons to be disconcerting), "who are you?"

"Look, I'll be out of your hair soon as I find my friend," the short man tells him, craning his neck here and there. "Tall bloke, lots of curls, stinks of ego. Probably off somewhere pulling wires out of the wall."

To his credit, Rory doesn't panic. Much. "That's. That's really not good."

"Yeah, he tends toward that," the short man grumbles.

Clint's got a secret love, and it's spelled b-a-n-j-o.

At the club, a guy comes up to him, gives Chad his card, and tells him that he should be in porn. Chad thinks it's kind of weird and maybe a little creepy, but he puts the card in his pocket and says he'll think about it.

He forgets all about it until he finds the card again later. Again, he's not quite sure why he doesn't just throw it out. But he doesn't.

Notes:

Some people use porn AUs to write lots of improbable sex; I use it to write long-winded romance about a dude who just happens to be in porn.

Jack O'Neill is not very good at being retired. Dean Winchester is not very good at staying out of trouble. And there's something lurking in these here woods….

The story of how Tony Stark manages to ruin sex, dating, and friendship - in that order.

Merlin is an emo/scene kid. Arthur is a jock with a secret kink for emo/scene kids. They meet in a club and chaos ensues.

And then it hit me. I knew why this area of the Nevernever felt so familiar and I knew exactly what those bubbles really were. They were dreams, mortal dreams, coming from humans back on Earth. This was where dreamer came. This is where the dream became reality.

I was in the Realm of Dreams.

Dreams that a spirit could enter. A glorious and desperate idea unfolded in my mind. Several years ago I’d been attacked by the Nightmare, a super-ghost of a sorcerer. It had torn into me through a dream. My wards hadn’t provided any protection because I’d been asleep; I’d been vulnerable because a part of me had been in the Nevernever.

Here.

And maybe from here, I could find a way back to the mortal realm.

There should be an AU where Gerard is head chef at some fancy restaurant and Bob is his sous chef and Frank is a dirty little busboy with a *~CULINARY GIFT~*. And Gerard can see Frank's talent, when no one else can! He like, discovers Frank in the kitchen after closing one night making some super pimped out dish based on his mama's lasagna and Gerard is like *___* YOU WILL REVOLUTIONIZE THE INDUSTRY and Frank's all >:| fuckyou man I'm just a dirty busboy, I'm going to go get trashed and beat people up >:| and Gerard is like DO NOT SQUANDER YOUR GIFT, YOU HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL and Frank...Frank has never been told he has potential in his entire life. He was always just a dirty busboy and before that he was just a dirty Jersey boy, and he made it through HS, but he wasn't anything spectacular, and then he couldn't make it through college (and his mama always says it doesn't matter to her, but he knows it broke her heart and that tears him up :) and then he could never quite find the right band to become a rock star and...well, if he has potential, then maybe...

He's all *suspicious face* this isn't going to cost me nothing, right? and Gerard's like I'M PROMOTING YOU and then shit, it's not like Frank can say no to NOT being a busboy AND having ~potential, right?

Frank wasn’t going to go out. Frank had plans, okay. Plans that did not involve a pretty - so fucking pretty - girl in a skirt, but shit happens.

Frank is four and a half years old and he doesn't like dancing.

Phil Coulson was more than halfway through his six year plan, and everything was chugging along nicely.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t foreseen a cocky junior Art major waltzing into his life, or his floor.

Lindsay Tanner had been reporting on Tony Stark long enough to know he was a ruthless bastard. The girls who covered the society pages might be fooled by the cultivated smiles and the good looks and the money he tossed around, but Lindsay's turf was the business section and she knew better. You didn't grow a company from a mid-level player to an international powerhouse--and then maintain that position after a drastic shift in corporate direction--without being willing and able to cut the legs out from under any given opponent. Or ally, if necessary.

"Spencer," Ryan says. "I am going to walk downstairs and I am going to tell your parents that you have a drug problem, and when they ask me why, I am going to very clearly and firmly tell them that you have been sitting up here telling me the reason I don't feel good in the morning is that you cried in front of me, for the first time ever, and your magical tears got me pregnant. Are you okay with that? You need to be okay with that."

After the split, Spencer's not talking to Ryan, but Ryan's talking to him. More specifically, Ryan's leaving him dirty voicemail messages and it's messing with Spencer's head.

In which Steve is kind of a fossil but his squishy parts and feelings are still intact, Bruce hates blueberries, there's a mysterious banging coming from Tony's lab in the basement, and Emma Frost is not actually a stripper.

“I think you should come over,” Gabe says in a rush.

“No.”

“No, seriously, hear me out. I know you’re busy, but man, Ashlee left. She’s leaving. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Patrick refuses to pity people on principle, because it’s demeaning and it doesn’t help. But right now, he really pities Gabe. Patrick’s been there a few times, and all he has to show for it is therapy and the vague feeling that he could’ve done more somehow.

In Gee's senior year of college, waking up with sex hair and a vague memory of the girl who gave it to her is just another Friday morning. She's fine with that. She is. And then she meets Frank.

AU: Alexander is a Baron who takes in a little tabby cat and gets more than he bargains for.

Chin and Kono stare at them bemusedly, as they always do, and then Chin says, “Wow, man, you really are his work-wife.”

I am asexual. This means--to me--that, like Tim Gunn, I don't want to have sex with other people. (Some of this post draws on things that I've been saying for a while, albeit with some updates.)

When Alfred Kinsey did his famous study Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, he rated men 0 to 6 in terms of who they were attracted to, 0 being completely heterosexual and 6 being completely homosexual. He discovered that approximately 1.5% of men reported "no socio-sexual contacts or reactions." Kinsey called this group X. A separate British study conducted in 1994 identified about 1.05% of the population as asexual.

I personally have come to identify as group X.

In an alternate universe, Lex Luthor is an investigative reporter for the Daily Planet assigned show Clark Kent the ropes, and Lois Lane is a powerful businesswoman and old friend.

"Mikey," came a voice from inside the dressing room. "I don't really think this is..." it trailed off.

"Ah," Frankie said. "Here with the little lady. Got it."

"No," Mikey said quickly. "I mean, I don't have - it's not - " he gestured. "It's my...sister." He leaned towards the door. "I only know how to undo dresses, Gee, not do them up. You're on your own."

"I can help her!" Frankie said brightly.

Mikey gave her a withering look. "When was the last time you saw a dress, Iero?"

"I don't know, last...year? Or something? How hard can it be, dude?" She kicked lightly at Mikey's sneaker as she stood and passed him. He made some sort of grab at her, but she kept going, calling out "Hey, Gee? I'm a friend of your brother's. Need a hand?"


sequel:http://soundslikej.livejournal.com/376928.html

A hundred years later hands grab at him, but instead of holding him down they yank him up and drag him onto cold tile. Sound and sensation come rushing back like the sudden pounding of blood in his ears.

"Tony!" someone's yelling, "Tony, are you all right?"

Tony grasps at his chest first, has to feel a hard circle of alloy breaking the line of his sternum before he can talk. "Peachy, fucking awesome, I take spontaneous swims all the time, don't go a day without."

It's Steve making him sit up, Steve demanding, "What just happened?"

"Yeah, what the hell, dude, why'd you just stay under?" asks Clint.

"Liked the scenery," says Tony, "Jesus, Steve, it's not like I went diving in the Mariana Trench, I'm fine." Totally fine, and if he's shaking a little and can't quite bring himself to stop touching the arc reactor, whatever, no one's perfect.

"The book is forgotten for ninety-three days, and just when John thinks it’s finished, Sherlock palms the paperback."

In which Sherlock and John read a book, together.

Mummy thinks that John Watson is so good for Sherlock that she must endeavor to make sure he stays with her son. If that means she has to force-adopt the man, then so be it. Mycroft is smug. Sherlock is horrified. John is devious.

First week Cougar and Jensen met -- back when everybody thought General Coleman would be crazy to take on even one of these losers, let alone a whole unit of them; before the copter, before Aisha, when as far as Cougar was concerned Jensen was nothing but a loud-mouthed idiot child -- Jensen took one hand off his laptop and put it on Cougar's arm and said, "Yo, Alvarez, don't look."

Cougar shook the hand off and went back to his scope. Some other time -- when they weren't busy trying to blast an escape path for another unit out of a village ambush -- he was going to have to teach this boy a lesson about respecting his person. The kid was big, but signs pointed to stupid.

He was preparing his comeback when there was a ballooning flash of blue-tinged light, and a second later a deafening bang, and a second after that a rolling wave of heat.

In the unlikely event that people haven't heard about Google's new privacy policy, going into effect on March 1: it will merge any Google accounts you have and link them into one account under one privacy policy

On March 14, 2012, Texas will effectively strip one hundred and thirty thousand (130,000) women of baseline health coverage with the end of the Women's Health Program. This is after the October's slash and burn that stripped 2/3 of the budget devoted to women's health. The federal Title X is barely hobbling, and I'm not sure, but I think we had a woman called a slut on national radio and told she should broadcast her sex life publicly if she wants subsidized birth control.

I wouldn't characterize this as a war on women. This is more what I think we'd call a 'rout'. In fact, hands up, on a glance, I think we're tragically unaware we have already lost.

Sherlock always ordered in Japanese, which meant that John had no idea what was coming and still less when it arrived: fishy bits in oil, crunchy things, sticky-sweet pastes on rice. The first time Sherlock took him to Tetsuro's--a cramped, pink-tinted club for ex-pats--John was a bit leery; he wouldn't put it past Sherlock to spike the fishy things, for science. But it had been delicious, not in the least bit poisonous, and while nobody within earshot was speaking English, John had deduced from Tetsuro's body language and the many delicacies he had sent to their table, that he, like so many others, was indebted to Sherlock.

Gerard/Frank, post-apocalyptic postal service

"You asked for my hand."

Adam blinks. They shook hands. They just shook hands. It sounds so much worse when Kris puts it like that.

"I shook your hand," Adam corrects him.

Kris nods. "You asked for my hand and shook it. As karacheewatsa."

"Karachi-what-sa?"

Kris searches Adam's face in growing panic. "You didn't mean—Oh."

Last year, the Republican controlled Texas Legislature passed a law that made it illegal for the state to provide Medicaid funds to a doctor or clinic that is affiliated with an organization that provides elective abortions, even if the institution receiving the money does not provide them.

This directly contradicts federal law which makes it illegal for the state to pick and choose which qualified health care providers receive state funding.

This was signed on Thursday by HHSC Commissioner. So you know, we're screwed.

As of now, Texas will lose its funding for WHP and the WHP program will effectively cease to exist.

I'm going to tell you a not-secret; there is literally no way to win on this one. Even if the Federal government buckles, most poor women use Planned Parenthood. Sometimes, it's the only clinic available in an area. So you know, it's kind of cut off most women in Texas if the Feds okay it, or cut off all women if they don't. It will cut off most women in the country if the Federal government does buckle, because I'm pretty sure the word 'precedent' can be invoked at this point.

Y'know. Republicans screw women, must be a day ending in a y. Carry on.

Found in the December 2002 issue of B&W magazine, in an article about the man who took the picture, Horace Bristol; he was a member of a Navy unit of photographers, and thus ended up being on the plane the gunner was serving on, which was used to rescue people from Rabaul Bay (New Britain island, Papua New Guinea), when this occurred:

“…we got a call to pick up an airman who was down in the Bay. The Japanese were shooting at him from the island, and when they saw us they started shooting at us. The man who was shot down was temporarily blinded, so one of our crew stripped off his clothes and jumped in to bring him aboard. He couldn’t have swum very well wearing his boots and clothes. As soon as we could, we took off. We weren’t waiting around for anybody to put on formal clothes. We were being shot at and wanted to get the hell out of there. The naked man got back into his position at his gun in the blister of the plane.”

At Day's Close: Night in Times Past, published four years later, unearths more than 500 references to a segmented sleeping pattern - in diaries, court records, medical books and literature, from Homer's Odyssey to an anthropological account of modern tribes in Nigeria.

Much like the experience of Wehr's subjects, these references describe a first sleep which began about two hours after dusk, followed by waking period of one or two hours and then a second sleep.

"It's not just the number of references - it is the way they refer to it, as if it was common knowledge," Ekirch says.

During this waking period people were quite active. They often got up, went to the toilet or smoked tobacco and some even visited neighbours. Most people stayed in bed, read, wrote and often prayed. Countless prayer manuals from the late 15th Century offered special prayers for the hours in between sleeps.

And these hours weren't entirely solitary - people often chatted to bed-fellows or had sex.

A doctor's manual from 16th Century France even advised couples that the best time to conceive was not at the end of a long day's labour but "after the first sleep", when "they have more enjoyment" and "do it better".

Person Who Will One Day Become Warlord-Ruler Of What Was Once Nebraska Born In Omaha Hospital

Okay, I'm torn; it's not like I want to spend my undead existence in a pink vat miles below sea level dreaming of my own voiceless screams of horror while Child fruitlessly tries to clone me in his skull-shaped Pacific Island headquarters surrounded by mindless minions (some of whom will have such colorful names as The Murder of Crows, The Albatross of Despair, The One Without a Cool Name, look, he's fifteen and plays Magic the Gathering after school; what do you expect?), nor am I entirely comfortable with his plans to create a hybrid human-reptile army (or a cockroach-human hybrid army for radiation survival purposes).

But. I am his mother, and he brings me coffee when I want it. Should I tell him about this Nebraska threat or not?

Shortly after 8 a.m. Tuesday, Landon Matthew Crowley, a 7-pound, 14-ounce baby boy and the future warlord who will rule over the charred remnants of what was once the state of Nebraska, was welcomed into the world at Omaha's Methodist Hospital, sources reported.

ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FEMINISM ACCORDING TO HARRY POTTER.

The Practice of Female Separatism in Daily Life of Luna Lovegood

Female Empowerment in Academia Through the Eyes of Minerva McGonagall

Women in Politics: The Dilemma of Dolores Umbridge

Women in the Military and Psychological Violence: The Case of Bellatrix Lestrange

The Death Toll of Unpaid Labor: The Duel of Molly Weasley and Bellatrix Lestrange

Replication of Violent Family Practices: Family Strategies of Nymphadora Tonks

The Duality of Economic Strategies for Women: Narcissa Malfoy

The Internalized Misogyny Among Successful Women: Rita Skeeter

Forced Marriage as a Conduit of Classism: Pansy Parkinson

Fatphobia: Millicent Bulstrode

Ridicule of Victims of Violence as a Form of Demonization: Moaning Myrtle

The Founders of Hogwarts, or Men are Always in Charge: False Equality

Hufflepuff and the "Virtue of the Working Class": The Silent Majority

Cho Chang: The Relations with Racial and Ethnic Minorities as a Casual Entertainment

Good Homosexual is a Well-Educated White Men with No Sexual Liaisons: Albus Dumbledore

Polyamory and Childfree Lifestyle -- Self-Positioning of Bellatrix Lestrange

Ariana Dumbledore: Murder of a Disabled Person as a Social Necessity

Argus Filch: Even Harry and Ron Can Laugh at the Handicapped

Goblins: The Apotheosis of the British Antisemitic Tradition

Flitwick and Hagrid: Ethnic Minorities Will Always Clean Up After You, or Uncle Tom in Hogwarts

If the Protagonist is Fed, Slavery is Awesome: House Elves

Only Stupid Girls Fight Slavery

House Elves: Just Like Women, Only Ugly and Invisible

Pomona Sprout: Good Girls are Liked but not Noticed

Professor Vector, or Anonymity of Women in Mathematics

Poppy Pomfrey: a Subservient Suffragette, or the Outcome of Courses of Higher Women's Studies in St Petersburg

Bellatrix Lestrange and Luna Lovegood: Psychiatric Disabilities and Ableism in Hogwarts

Luna Lovegood, Tom Riddle, Harry Potter: Good Children Don't Get PTSD

Luna Lovegood: Forced Acceptance into the Family Strategies of Psychological Repression

Conventional Man is Allowed Anger but not Grief. Harry Potter: The Masculinity Trap

Remus Lupin and the "Good Cripple" Archetype

Rolanda Hooch: Professional Women's Athletics as Deviation

Molly Weasley and Fleur Delacourt: Differentiation Between Women as a Tool of Oppression

Okay. So. Trader Joe's, in its infinite marketing wisdom, offers a lot of time-limited products, thus teaching its customers that you must buy now or wonder forever. In a recent shopping expedition, I chose to buy now. The purchase in question was a bag of cherry-flavored heart-shaped gummy candies.

One afternoon shortly thereafter, I opened the bag and explored them with the earthling, and we discovered that the hearts had a red, liquid center. I learned, through subsequent experimentation, that you could sort of pry the hearts partway open and the red center would well up and ooze out. Bleeding heart! I thought. Trader Joe's sold us literal bleeding hearts. I of course made a note to tell Best Beloved.

That night, she came in, and I picked one out, dug in my fingernails, and began to pry. This created a sort of vertical chasm in the heart.

"It looks like a vagina," she said, watching me. The liquidy center welled up and started oozing. "...And now it's a vagina that's leaking," she said, in tones that communicated that she was extremely unimpressed.

I lost it. I started laughing, and - see, unfortunately my computer chair is not the most stable, and of course I flatly refuse to replace it while it can be sat in at all, so I fell out of the chair, collapsed at her feet, and made a spirited attempt to die laughing. For me, this is entirely possible; I have been sick since December, and anything at all triggers a coughing fit at this point.

So I laughed until I coughed and coughed until my ribs ached and I could not breathe at all, with my face buried in her thigh because of course I could not hold myself upright, either. And as soon as I almost had my breath back, Best Beloved said, "You know, as long you're down there anyway..." and I lost it again. The laughing-coughing-choking-gasping-weeping cycle was much worse the second time around, because, come on, she made a tasteless request for oral sex while I was dying over the bleeding vulva candy. To me, it does not get funnier than that.

Tony nearly dies in the field on a Saturday.

Steve breaks up with Tony the Wednesday after he's released from hospital.

A fictional musical called Stonewall, that chronicles the Stonewall riots in song and stars Chris Colfer as a street hustler, Adam Lambert as a female impersonator in the Stonewall bar, Diana Thompson as the female impersonator's best dyke friend, and David Bowie as the narrator/Greek chorus. I don't even LIKE musicals, but at the actual riots the queens and hustlers in the bar faced down the riot cops with a chorus kickline and an improvised song:

We are the Stonewall girls
We wear our hair in curls
We don't wear underwear
We show our pubic hairs.

Not exactly Tennyson, but they were facing down a riot squad at the time. It'd all be very Cabaret, with a takeoff on "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"--the riots took place the same week as Judy Garland's death--and a show-stopping number by Lambert, done in drag and platforms, to get the riot started in style.

The new chauffeur is a most curious creature, Violet thinks, as he hands her out the motor-car with a quiet 'm'lady.'

A stoic sort, she notes with approval, and in the privacy of her own mind she is quite inclined to admit him a rather handsome sort to boot.

Andrew proposing in the middle of their office? Surprisingly less shocking, she realises with the benefit of hindsight, than the sight of him holding out a diamond engagement ring as they stand on a street corner.

"What is with you and very public displays of affection?"

Shaking his head, he slides the diamond onto her finger. "It'll be okay, Margaret," he says, taking her hand and holding it tight. "I promise. Just channel a normal person and breathe."

Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes -- but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that's not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It's because the mysterious killer they're both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they're looking for looks back ...

In which Neal and Clinton swap bodies, and Mozzie's paranoia spirals out of control.

Five possible pasts for Arthur ... and a promising future.

when is the time we pull out our I, Robot, Bladerunner and Terminator to treat them as the necessary survival documents they are? Maybe when the android gets to star in its own play about itself? You think?

It's so weird to watch that; even knowing--scientifically, or at least, wikipedially--the nature of my reaction, it does not change my instinctive kill it with fire in any rational way. There are reasons a lot of horror movies are about things that shouldn't be moving that suddenly start moving, you know? Wax figures, mannequins, androids that blink and turn their head in ways that make me want an axe. You know. The usual.

I'm curious; the uncanny divide threshhold is different for everyone; does this hit yours, or what does hit yours?

Lieutenant Arthur leaves his post at an international training camp for dream sharing with his name on classified research on dreamshare and a fondness for Flying Officer Eames of the Royal Air Force. He isn't expecting to see Eames again, and he especially isn't expecting them both to be independently captured by an international coalition hellbent on distributing all possible information on the PASIV device to the general population. After negotiations for their release, the world's leading dream psychiatrist is brought on board to help with their rehabilitation. Dr. Mal Cobb isn't sure if she's up to the task.

Set in an AU world wherein Charles and Raven were born roughly fifty years later than they actually were, but Erik was not. Instead, Erik and Emma killed Shaw and then Emma used Erik for her fight towards making mutants accepted within the human world. Twenty years after he has freed himself from her telepathic influence, Erik - an omega-level mutant who doesn't age - meets Charles, a telepath famous for standing up in school and fighting for a fellow mutant's rights. All Charles wants is to ask Erik what he thinks about his great plan to build a school exclusively for mutants, and possibly convince him to become a teacher; what he gets instead is, eventually, a boyfriend.
This story is set two years later, when, in the middle of planning the school, Charles finds out about his secondary mutation.

I'm saying, when is the time we pull out our I, Robot, Bladerunner and Terminator to treat them as the necessary survival documents they are? Maybe when the android gets to star in its own play about itself? You think?

It's so weird to watch that; even knowing--scientifically, or at least, wikipedially--the nature of my reaction, it does not change my instinctive kill it with fire in any rational way. There are reasons a lot of horror movies are about things that shouldn't be moving that suddenly start moving, you know? Wax figures, mannequins, androids that blink and turn their head in ways that make me want an axe. You know. The usual.

"Arthur, you're about to be deported."

Sometimes, you find a line so perfect you don't even really need context; in fact, you realize in your heart you will never understand the context. Or like, what the hell. Because it's just that goddamn perfect line.

One:
I'll even accept people hating on Gamzee for his murderclown spree, despite the fact that he's my favorite, because Juggalo junkie murderclowns making out with their boyfriend's severed heads are admittedly not to everyone's taste, but seriously, Tavros?

Two:
Granted, I read a lot of incest and bestiality, but Nazis are where I draw the line.

Both I ran across on fail-fandomanon and saved back to read later in a spirit of wonder. Recording here for later moments where I feel the universe sucks and then I remember murderclowns and anti-Nazi bestiality and it's like, I love fandom like a lot, because these are kind of beautiful.

If a top secret file on Phil Coulson and Clint Barton's relationship existed, it would look something like this.

Like most problems in Arthur's life, it began with him meeting a man.

But not just any man: Dom Cobb, architect, author, academic, and world-renowned expert on urban space. The first time they met, Cobb sat him in a chair and, perching on the edge of the desk, asked, "So, Arthur, why do we live in cities?"

Arthur immediately replied, "Because of the Industrial Revolution."

"Because the structure of a city parallels the human mind," Cobb corrected in a didactic tone. He wandered around the desk like he was putting on a presentation, and Arthur had to twist around in his chair to follow him. "If we can understand urbanisation, we can understand people. Only through the extreme can we truly know normal."

That sounded like bullshit to Arthur, but he kept his mouth shut.

If they had met in a movie, there would have been a meet-cute where they bumped into each other in the studio hallway and dropped their scripts and then picked up the wrong ones. And then later, when they discovered their error, Gerard would have wrangled Frank's phone number from his agent and then blushingly called Frank to let him know.

(That's how it would have gone if they had met in one of Frank's movies, anyway. If they'd met in one of Gerard's, they probably would have been on the run from a vampire cult. Which is a different kind of meet-cute altogether.)

Instead, they met at a table-read, and Gerard was so distracted he barely noticed that Frank was even there.

Also, there is a rare pairing posted now (Ray/Christa (rare in that it doesn't get written much, obvs, not like is it OUT OF THE BLUE) and T and I were discussing this morning how, SOMEWHERE in California, Christa just went, "...I feel weird. Why do I suddenly feel weird?" And Ray's, like, "SIGH. Welcome to the fold. I've been here for ten years." "But I don't know how I feel about this," and Ray is, like, "Yeah, I know. You'll just have to get used to it."

And SOMEHOW this conversation went into how the boys can just FEEL a disturbance in the force every now and then, like, SOMETHING FEELS OFF and they're like, "again? Seriously?" And then maybe sometimes, SOMETHING HAPPENS when one night, like, Ray goes to bed, all fine, then wakes up and goes, "I think I want to cut someone's hair and style it! Also, Mikey, can I stick it in you?" And Mikey is, like, "...oh God, not again." And then the next minute he's, like, "YES. Also let's go hunt some ghosts."

And then the feeling stops at the MOST AWKWARD MOMENT when Gerard is, like, EXORCISING someone SOMEWHERE and suddenly they're all, like, "oh, FUCK ME, seriously, AGAIN?"

Or when Ray is BALLS-DEEP in Mikey and suddenly is, like, 'OH JESUS CHRIST, WHAT' and pulls out and Mikey's, like, 'BUT I WASN'T DONE ;____;'

Most of all, it happens in clusters to Frank and Gerard, especially on tour when they'll wake up in each other's bunks covered in jizz and go, *FACEPALM* SERIOUSLY? And then get a phone call from Jamia or Lindsey who are, like, "...okay, so WE DIDN'T MEAN TO, GODDAMN FANGIRLS" and the guys are, like, 'YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES' and 'THIS IS MY THROAT IS SORE, I SEE'

And then there was a week where Frank woke up sick, pregnant, and growing tentacles ALL AT THE SAME TIME, and was like, "OH MY GOD, IS THERE A FICATHON GOING ON RIGHT NOW? CAN WE PLEASE STOP THIS RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I HAVE A SHOW TO DO, GERARD, PUT DOWN THAT BIBLE YOU ARE NOT ACTUALLY A PRIEST" and Mikey starts speaking in monotones and can't stop texting on his Sidekick (HE HAD AN IPHONE YESTERDAY, WHAT HAPPENED) and Ray becomes the most solicitous person EVER and they just have to RIDE IT OUT BECAUSE THEY CANNOT WITHSTAND THE POWER OF THE FANGIRL HIVEMIND, THE END.