Oh, John John John. Wouldn't know what to do with a feeling in the moment if it reached out and chomped on his ass. *wibble*
And, by the way, seriously, seriously LOVED this story. Don't hate, but I complete relate to Sheppard in this, I mean, what the hell do you do? And why the hell hasn't every author in the fandom jumped on the "it hasn't hit me yet" thing?
While laughing at every single damn line, I found myself immediately waiting for a Mary Richards/Chuckles the Clown kind of breakdown at the funeral.
I consider nothing self-indulgent without cuddling--and hey, you didn't go there (uh, I think). John is so damn hot and clueless and hot and emotionally retarded (why is that such a sexy trait?)
And for the record:
I'm getting the sneaking feeling your wife leaving you had less to do with your secret love of cock and more to do with your being a giant douche. (the metaphor explained is simply priceless)
Made of Awesomeness.
[][][][][][][]
Who died from an explosive tumor?
Seriously?
Who, upon contemplation, did NOT laugh at that? Come on, exploding tumors? Even Carson, I fear, would think that death just a bit ignominious-- although, what use splitting hairs, right? Gero. Bastard. *snerk*
[][][][][][][][][]
Think of Carson. He'd been a good person. A kind person. Very conscientious. He'd done his job and lived his life with poise and grace. Like an old Scottish lady.
Lady Beckett of Hartfordshire.
I believe broke a thing somewhere right about there. My neighbors are quite likely very worried about what I might be doing.
I MUST poke and prod at this some more and get back to you again regarding your amazing grade a awesomeness.
Lady Beckett of Hartfordshire! *LOL*
And, by the way, seriously, seriously LOVED this story. Don't hate, but I complete relate to Sheppard in this, I mean, what the hell do you do? And why the hell hasn't every author in the fandom jumped on the "it hasn't hit me yet" thing?
While laughing at every single damn line, I found myself immediately waiting for a Mary Richards/Chuckles the Clown kind of breakdown at the funeral.
I consider nothing self-indulgent without cuddling--and hey, you didn't go there (uh, I think). John is so damn hot and clueless and hot and emotionally retarded (why is that such a sexy trait?)
And for the record:
I'm getting the sneaking feeling your wife leaving you had less to do with your secret love of cock and more to do with your being a giant douche. (the metaphor explained is simply priceless)
Made of Awesomeness.
[][][][][][][]
Who died from an explosive tumor?
Seriously?
Who, upon contemplation, did NOT laugh at that? Come on, exploding tumors? Even Carson, I fear, would think that death just a bit ignominious-- although, what use splitting hairs, right? Gero. Bastard. *snerk*
[][][][][][][][][]
Think of Carson. He'd been a good person. A kind person. Very conscientious. He'd done his job and lived his life with poise and grace. Like an old Scottish lady.
Lady Beckett of Hartfordshire.
I believe broke a thing somewhere right about there. My neighbors are quite likely very worried about what I might be doing.
I MUST poke and prod at this some more and get back to you again regarding your amazing grade a awesomeness.
Thank you for *hand wave* all of that.
Teri