Dude, there was *awesome* Dexter fic from Yuletide. The one about Deb coping post-Brian? Insanely awesome.

You know, I would reccomend reading the second Dexter book in the interim. It's not bad, on the whole, and very easy to read; plus it'll be really interesting to see how the second season compares to the novel.

I can't believe it's ten months! Woe! I love the show.

Just stopping by to rec an engrossing SGA genderswap fic by trinityofone: [link]

Has this made the rounds here yet? SGA vid McKay: White and Nerdy. Hysterical.

Yuletide authors have been revealed!

OMG, I love Plei even more now. [link]

HA! I am going to be so amused when everyone realizes that it's Plei that wrote that kicker of a story. It's the new Kissenger, baby.

Removed for stupidity comma mine, please move along....

Aww, guess who's back as a New Year's present to us?

Nikita fidgeted and adjusted her black Armani two-piece Italian suit that as expected created the impression of elegance, classiness and professionalism that the young widow wanted to communicate. Fashioned from a delicate crepe de chine, it brought forth the softness of the feminine form and the frilly peplum added the illusion of fun expected from a successful young woman. Her shiny blonde hair was tied in a chignon in the form of a figure eight at the top of her collar and her almost invisible pearl studs sitting prettily In her earlobes added to her youthful essence.

Her black satin Prada slingbacks with round toe and calfskin trim sported a 4 inch heel that made her even more statuesque that she already was. Her sheer stockings and her Prada clutch bag, all a gift from Adrian Jones, completed the package and sent a message of total confidence. To those watching her saunter quietly into the conference room, the woman looked positively stunning and to Michael Samuelle, who stood supporting his indignant wife Elena, Nikita looked absolutely good enough to eat. So once more the man regretted having been a gentleman while he spent time with the blonde in the past and wanted to pull out his Glock and shoot the beatch brunette that held his hand.

beatch? Is that like bi-yotch?

Michael stiffened and Elena drilled her beady dark eyes into his unflinching face as she dug her red gel-filled fingernails into the palm of his hand.

Ow.

It seems that the elder Vulkner had left everything, every single bit of his vast estate, every chance at fabulous wealth, to his progenitor son Helmut – Oh Oh! There was a very clear caveat that the will as it stood could not be contested and if it was, the person doing the contesting would be left out with nothing.

Oh! Oh! I'm so surprised at what I just wrote that I have to exclaim, even though I went on and on about the various wills and inheritances two chapters ago!

But the Jimmy Choo was yet to drop.

There the man, Nikita’s husband, without mentioning names in a short film, expressed the desire with the same caveat of no protestation, to leave everything in the hands of his wife. So every drop of wealth was not to be touched by the siblings that had made his life a living hell. There was a stipulation here also – Michael Samuelle, his sister’s husband or in the event of a divorce, the man’s choice had to be the executor of this estate also - Oh Oh indeed! Michael thought that Helmut must have known all along that he was S1, just as Michael knew that Helmut was MI5.

When Michael started to speak, Elena in a moment of righteous indignation slapped him once. Her misspent anger confusing the man and as she tried to slap him a second time Nikita entered the arena. This ended with Elena’s arm being twisted by an outraged Nikita, not because she had slapped Michael, but because she had beat her to it (LOL).

LOL indeed.

There was a very clear caveat that the will as it stood could not be contested and if it was, the person doing the contesting would be left out with nothing.

That's a neat legal trick. P.S. this cannot be contested, nyah. I think the Bush administration has been doing something similar in re the Supreme Court.

Um, what's a 'progenitor son'?