fucking plotbunnies

[burntcopper]

well, aside from wishing to kill the inefficient evil that is electric stoves - 25 fucking minutes to boil water and 20 minutes to crisp bacon? Through a *thin pan*? (the frying pans back home are thick cast iron do serious fucking damage ones, and 10-15 mins is their average on a medium/low heat gas stove)

trinityofone is evil. megolas knows this, due to the John sheppard in bowtie pic. However, due to notpoetry writing fic for this, with added stages of how to tie a bowtie.

...and now I have images of a Jeeves and Wooster style AU. And am torn between which should be the gentleman's personal gentleman, since although Rodney is of superior intelligence, John does the mysterious ways, laconic and eyebrow better.

Send help.

Comments

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

Although dr Mckay refused to admit it, the memory of the two weeks Sheppard did not even allow a single eyebrow to twitch, also known as The Aubergine with Mint Flecks Socks Confabulation still sent cold shivers down his spine. The mood of the McKay household took a definite turn for the dismal that fortnight, and it was only when Jeannie forced him over to admit his wrongness and burn the socks that equanimity was restored.

[emrinalexander.livejournal.com]

Still, McKay felt it incumbent on the Family Honor to at least make a token protest. "I say, Sheppard, you're always raising an eyebrow at me over my clothing. How did I manage before you came into my employ?"

Sheppard pursed his lips Just So and appeared to be giving the question serious thought. "I have no idea, Dr. McKay." He handed Rodney a perfectly pressed shirt of a blue so complimentary to McKay's eyes as to be, well...perfect. McKay sighed and put it on.

"Ratty Zelenka has one in that pink color."

Oh drat. Both of the Damned Eyebrows of I Cannot Believe You Said That Rose. "I'm sure Dr. Zelenka has many things that are pink, Dr. McKay." Sheppard's tone indicated he also suspected Zelenka of deflowering virgins on the sly and possibly listening to New Orleans Jazz when nobody was looking. "However, I trust we will not be seeing any more of it in this household."

McKay might have muttered something that sounded like "It's my house, I'll wear what I like," but damn it, when it the old push came to the big shove, he knew he'd be wearing blue. Or whatever else Sheppard handed him.