truly, madly, lavvyan.

Boom de Yada, Boom de Yada

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 08:16:07 GMT

I love today's XKCD.

I also love all the amazing stories that keep being posted daily at mcshep_match. Funnily enough, twice now similar stories have been submitted by different teams and to different prompts. Makes you wonder about that fannish hive mind. The only thing that's a little disappointing is that hardly anyone plays the "guess the writers" game. Come on, people! Read! Vote! Play! It's fun!

Story: Never Going Home
What it's about: John has been discharged and finds himself very much at loose ends.
Why I like it: The mood of the story mirrors John's depression marvellously, and the ending is incredibly satisfying.

Story: A Moment's Consideration
What it's about: AU in which John takes over his father's company and screws up his very first deal. Thankfully lawyer!Rodney is there to help him.
Why I like it: It's a lawyer AU. Duh. ;) Seriously though, the characters all work in their new settings and the plot isn't half-bad either, so this is an AU that really works for me.

Story: Tied Up Inside
What it's about: John wakes up in another universe.
Why I like it: While this story does have a happy ending, it's still a little heart-breaking. One way or the other, John leaves someone behind.

Story: Blink
What it's about: I'll just quote the author's summary here: I am going to tell you a story. About Dr. McKay and how he bought an eye from me, and how that one small act led to the strangest night in my entire life.
Why I like it: It's... a creepy Cyberpunk AU told from an outsider PoV. Quirky. I love quirky.

Story: Now You See It, Now You Don't
What it's about: Rodney is the engineer behind magician!John's tricks.
Why I like it: Another pretty quirky AU. John and Rodney obviously have a history, and it's just as obvious that they're completely smitten with each other.

This is probably where I mention that the Home Team had some very, very good stories as well (they are certainly the ones turning out the really long stories). But I still encourage you to vote for the Away Team. *g*

So, hypothetically

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 15:13:59 GMT

View Poll: If Parrish were a flower

My team, let me pimp you it

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 18:43:51 GMT

The first week of posting at mcshep_match is coming to a close, and so far we've had some truly amazing stories from both sides. Since I'm on Team Away, however, I'm only going to pimp theirs. Why, yes, I'm biased. ;)

Story: Perchance to Dream
What it's about: Every time John and Rodney fall asleep, they wake up on another world.
Why I like it: Rodney and John get thrown into a situation they don't understand and can't control. It's always interesting to see them deal with that kind of thing, and the tension between them is very believable and well done.

Story: Little By Little To the Truth; or a Narrative of the Atlantis Expedition
What it's about: It's 1904 and Lady Elizabeth Weir, Dowager Countess Menlow and Head of the Atlantis Expedition, is the widow of an English noble; Colonel John Patrick Sheppard, US Army Reserve, is a Spanish-American War veteran who's also piloted airships and tested aeroplanes and motorcars, and Doctor Meredith R. McKay, smartest man in two galaxies, is the inventor of the first Patented Completely Portable Personal Computing Machine. And yet, things are strangely familiar.
Why I like it: It's a steampunk AU. Duh.

Story: By Whirlwind Scattered
What it's about: There's a jumper crash, and Rodney ends up stranded on a planet alone with John Sheppard. Or does he?
Why I like it: This is brilliantly written and it hurts in all the right ways. I wouldn't recommend reading this when you're depressed, but if you're up for a seriously creepy character study, this is your story.

Story: Less to Say
What it's about: The Atlantis expedition has moved on, and John writes to Rodney.
Why I like it: The pace of this story is awesome, a slow unravelling of what's happened, of what's happening still, and of how John tries to hold on to a relationship that Rodney doesn't seem to care about anymore. It's lovely and it's Romance and left me smiling.

Story: Future Imperfect
What it's about: John has the perfect life. Until he wakes up.
Why I like it: This deals beautifully with John longing for something he thinks he can't have. And it really does read true to the character we know from the show, especially the ending. It's a bit bittersweet, but hopeful. I like it a lot.

Story: All the Pharaoh’s Men
What it's about: Rodney has to build a pyramid, waits to be rescued, and while he's at it, instigates an uprising.
Why I like it: This story isn't really funny (or even meant to be) but it still made me grin. Because Rodney starts off at the very bottom of the slave camp's ladder, but in true Rodney fashion ends up making friends and earning respect despite everyone's resistance to let themselves be impressed. He really isn't the weakest link at all.

I can't even think of a properly gleeful subject line

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 13:05:19 GMT

The posting weeks on mcshep_match have finally started! Two stories a day, 25 days of continuous posting, 50 authors who will do their best to anonymously entertain you until the fifth season of SGA finally starts! How could you not love that?

The first story for the Away Team is Perchance to Dream. I didn't get to read it yet (or maybe I wrote it?), but if you followed that challenge last year you'll know that the quality of the posted fics was ~~ridiculously~~ ~~intimidatingly~~ amazingly high, so my guess is this one's going to be pretty good. ;)

Internet connection allowing, I'll try to rec as many stories as I can in detail. But even if I can't: go forth and read, people! Go forth and vote!

For the Away Team, naturally. Although I suppose you can give the other team a few points. If you must.

Storyfinders challenge

Wed, 28 May 2008 15:19:34 GMT

In the fine tradition of sgastoryfinders users to reduce 7,600 words of BDSM AU to "Rodney gave John a blowjob for a sandwich" (no offense, rellan!), I'm daring you to find these stories for me:

1. ~~John was going nuts so Rodney adjusted the comm. system so it plays music in his room.~~ Found by mausi: Distraction by laceymcbain

2. ~~Aliens blow up John's couch.~~ Found by stasha2g: And Sometimes You Get Toasters by giddygeek

3. ~~John is drunk and throws up on his boots and Rodney throws them away but it's a bad idea really and then Teyla throws up, too.~~ Found by spacedmonkey: Slow and Steady by kelliferfic

4. ~~The one where Rodney is a grumpy butterfly.~~ Found by argosy: The Reverse of Fascination by shrift

5. ~~John is luminous.~~ Found by calime33: Balcony Sessions by Leah

6. ~~Rodney wants to hire John even though Elizabeth isn't interested in him.~~ Found by iiyorinn: String Theory, A Concerto for Violin in D Minor by toft_froggy

7. ~~John repairs things for food. (I couldn't possibly resist that.)~~ Found by looking4tarzan: Junk Cheap by devildoll

8. ~~Jeannie falls in love with John and Rodney is jealous and tries to keep them from getting together.~~ Found by neostar0114: Sky Full Of by rageprufrock

9. ~~Rodney gives John the key to his secret coffee stash but John doesn't want it.~~ Found by debris_k: Five Impossible Things Rodney McKay Did Before Breakfast by laceymcbain

10. ~~I think at one point Rodney was a prophet fighting John for a halo.~~ Found by stasha2g: Rebuilding Babel by fiercelydreamed

11. ~~The one where John and Rodney work at Starbucks.~~ Found by aurora_84, unamaga, and clear_as_blood (obviously a hard one): The one where John and Rodney work at Starbucks by runpunkrun and thesabrary

12. ~~Rodney has a hard-on in the gateroom and John's kind of obsessing about it.~~ Found by berlinghoff79 (sort of): One Leg at a Time by Mallory Klohn

13. ~~Uh, Rodney tells Jinto about castration?~~ Found by bergann: Sleepless by villainny.

14. ~~John could turn on Britney Spears with his mind.~~ Found by clear_as_blood: The Scientific Method by cupidsbow

15. ~~Teyla complains she can't open the little milk pouch things and Ford offers to do it for her and pokes the straw right through.~~ Found by looking4tarzan: The Best Things in Life are Free by smittywing

16. ~~John goes shopping and buys Playstation games or maybe Xbox or both, he plays flight simulations.~~ Found by Anonymous: King of Wishful Thinking by margarks

17. ~~I don't quite remember, but John tried to drown himself because he thought Rodney didn't love him or something like that.~~ Found by thingswithwings: Vapor Lock by auburnnothenna and eretria

18. ~~The one where they celebrate Christmas and Rodney can't fix the blinking lights except it turns out one of the lamps isn't properly in its socket and he gets blinded when the thing explodes.~~ Found by villainny: Bell Curve (Or Ladies' Night at the Boom Boom Room) by rageprufrock

19. ~~Um, there are magic rocks and Rodney plays the piano.~~ Found by bergann: Time in a Bottle by astolat

20. ~~John and Rodney take a taxi and John pays way too much.~~ Found by stasha2g and [Bad username: fiordeligi"]: Five People John Sheppard Didn’t Kill on P11-23R by sardonicsmiley

To make things easier, all of these are McKay/Sheppard, are pretty well known and have been publicly recced. To make things harder, some of these might be remembered wrong. Only one guess per comment, please (and don't go leaving 10 comments in a row). That way the game's going to last longer, I think. I hope. ;)

ETA: All found in not even 24 hours! You guys are scary! *g*

The Ice Queen (John/Rodney, PG-13)

Mon, 26 May 2008 17:31:04 GMT

Title: The Ice Queen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Rodney
Word Count: ~ 9,200
Warnings: Canon character death (i.e. neither John nor Rodney in any permanent way)
Summary: The Ice Queen might be beautiful but her kisses were deadly, they said. Freezing soul and body alike, stealing warmth and breath and life; she might be beautiful, but she was evil.
Notes: This story is an AU that vaguely uses Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen and The Ice Maiden as inspiration. One bit of dialogue was inspired by Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
Huge thanks go to my beta-readers villainny, winkingstar and neevebrody, who were all a great help (and whose advice I ignored here and there, so if you find anything off? That's probably where I should have listened).

~~~

@ sga_flashfic

Go vote, please.

Sun, 25 May 2008 20:12:32 GMT

Here is the poll for the current election to the LJ Advisory Board. I don't think whoever's elected is going to have more than a shiny title, but just in case I'm wrong, please do go check out fandom_votes. That community is dedicated to getting a fannish representative on the Advisory Board to represent fannish interests. svmadelyn explains that a lot better here.

There's a very good post by seperis that introduces the fandom candidates in more detail here. Also, icarusancalion put together two detailed posts with links here and here that should give you an overview about the the general goings-on and the election process.

In general, I recommend reading the comments on the official LJ voting post. They're rather enlightening.

God, this is annoying, isn't it?

Fri, 23 May 2008 10:34:42 GMT

You know, I've been getting several messages last night from people whose freshly-opened LJ sites offer the same stupid movies and music (as I know several people have). The IP addresses vary from New Delhi to Japan, so apparently there's some strange, world-wide conspiracy out there trying to direct people to ParisRocksAgain for nefarious purposes that, at this point in time, elude me.

Long story short, I'm going to ban_set every single person who comments thus on my LJ, just because I can and because it satisfies my vindictive streak. It's not going to change anything, but god, it feels good.

Loads of love

Sun, 18 May 2008 08:04:58 GMT

As I said last night, winkingstar has generously turned Antarctic Drift into podfic. Her reading voice is gorgeous, so if you like podfic, the download post is here.

♥

Let me just get this out of my head

Fri, 16 May 2008 11:41:43 GMT

So one day, while he's scratching the third draft of his Great Unifying Theory into the bark of a young birch, Rodney overhears two hunters saying that he's the last unicorn.

Following the strange stories of Daniel-the-absent-minded butterfly, he grudgingly embarks on a quest to find his kin (because that's what you do when you're the last of anything, and also who's going to properly understand and admire his brilliance - humans? Feh.). He's captured and put on display as part of Daddy Lucius's freak show but escapes with the help of bumbling alchemist Carson Beckett (who cries bitter tears as he leaves his mentor except freeing the unicorn is of course The Right Thing To Do). Together they journey on. Soon, they are joined by the beautiful lady-in-disguise-as-a-maid Samantha, who instantly falls in awe with Rodney's beauty (insert snigger here).

The trio arrive at King KMichael's castle, encountering the Red Wraith (the only thing that can kill even an immortal being) he keeps to drive all unicorns into the sea for him to look at. Carson saves Rodney by turning him into a human and they move into the castle where everyone pretends they don't know exactly what's going on.

Blah blah, Rodney meets John-the-handsome-prince who is probably the only one who genuinely doesn't know what's going on, blah blah, talking cat, blah, Rodney starting to think that maybe the time for unicorns is over anyway and the prince's eyes look that much more beautiful than white fur shining in the moonlight while the unicorn belonging to said fur prances on a secluded clearing, blah blah, talking skeleton in the basement, Rodney gets turned back into a unicorn to escape the Red Wraith.

John-the-handsome-prince is also foolishly brave and tries to protect Rodney from the Wraith and ends up losing his life. Grief-stricken and enraged, Rodney turns on the Red Wraith and drives it back into the ocean, for the first time in his life fighting for someone else and not himself. He frees the other unicorns, who (like the flighty, careless things they are) immediately disappear into the surrounding hills, the sound of their hooves causing the castle to crumble into the sea and King Michael to die between water and stone. Carson and Samantha watch Rodney revive John, who is confused and maybe a little angry that Rodney was lying to him the whole time he was staying at the castle. Rodney leaves back for his forest, realising that he is the only unicorn ever to feel love and regret and that he will remember John for centuries after John has died.

Except John is a stubborn bastard and more in love than he is angry, so he goes to find Rodney's forest and stay with him (it's not like he has a castle left anyway). And really, there's no reason Rodney can't let Carson turn him into a human for a while longer, is there? After all, what's a human lifetime to a unicorn? And then there are many adventures on which they meet Teyla and Ronon as... oh, dunno, maybe a dragon and a genie, and after ~~stealing the apples of the Hesperides~~ passing many trials, John achieves immortality as well and they live happily ever after.

Okay, now excuse me while I go take my meds.

Thumbling Down (John/Rodney, PG-13)

Sun, 11 May 2008 11:40:34 GMT

Title: Thumbling Down
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,700
Warnings: None.
Notes: For cupidsbow, who was about one email away from snapping (and that probably would have been mine, so thanks for the warning! :D). And yes, this is totally somewhat the ending of Thumbelina (I'm too lazy to do the whole thing, sorry!) and therefore could be considered crack. Emo crack. Plus it's not been beta-read. Uh. Sorry?

ETA: Look at unaccompanied_g's artwork!

~~~

Sometimes, life doesn't exactly go as you planned it.

This might be because you're smarter than most, or smaller than most, or because someone decides you're Not Doing It Right and starts to interfere. Sometimes you just don't want to marry the frog princess, or the king of the bugs, or the mole warrior, or whoever proposes to you next. And sometimes you meet the fairy prince and fall in love only to have him die and leave you behind.

Sometimes, life gives you lemons and you're allergic to lemonade.

~~~

There was still snow on the ground when they finally, finally made it out of the Molii's giant underground bunker. It seemed unreal somehow - Rodney felt like he'd spent an eternity down there, but the first snowdrops were only just starting to bloom so it couldn't have been more than three weeks. Four at the outmost. The sun was still standing high, turning the planes of snow into a billion tiny reflections that made Rodney's eyes hurt after the dimness of the tunnels.

He shivered when Radek set them both down on a nearby branch and moved away from him. The bark was wet and cold and he hadn't exactly had the time to change into his outdoor clothes before running away. He had quite literally stumbled over Radek when he'd been exploring the Molii corridors looking for a way out, and hadn't been about to let the pigeon out of his sight again. Radek was a good enough guy, but he tended to get distracted. Rodney couldn't afford getting distracted; not when his freedom was on the line.

Damn stupid Jeannie and her stupid obsession with getting him married, anyway. Just because she was a "fully-grown" human and Rodney was barely tall enough to peer over the rim of a glass she thought she could make his decisions for him! First Katie-the-frog-princess-with-the-green-thumb, then Michael-the-irate-bug, then Molya-the-half-blind-underground-dweller. As if Rodney was going to spend his life suffering from the severe lack of vitamin D that insufficient natural light could cause! And anyway, Molya had only wanted him for his brain. Rodney didn't want to be wanted only for his brain. He wanted to be wanted for… for his heart, and damn Czech pigeons who put such ridiculous notions of romance in his head, too.

"This is all your fault," he hissed, and Radek had the grace to look vaguely guilty.

"We could try the fairies again, yes? At least get you some clothes against the cold."

"No." Rodney didn't want to go see the fairies. They had been somewhat fascinating at first, with their wings and their flying city that was sometimes invisible, but now they'd only remind him of even stupider notions of romance, and… no. He didn't want to think about that. "And it's still winter; they're sleeping."

Except for one of them. The one who'd been too sweetly stubborn to sleep away the winter when Rodney was in trouble, and look where it had got him.

Radek hesitated, shuffling from foot to foot before he asked, "Do you want to go look for John? I know you said he was-"

"No!" Rodney did not want to go look for John, because what if they found him? It had been weeks since that glow bug China or Cheetah or whatever had told him that John had… and yes, winter and ice and preservation and all that stuff, but… what if Rodney would have to look at… at… He swallowed, refusing to think about it, except Radek just wouldn't quit.

"But-"

"He's dead!" Rodney exploded, grief and anger finally breaking free. "He had to be all heroic and he fell into the water and he froze and he's dead, you stupid bird, so would you just shut the fuck up about it?!"

He didn't want to think about it, wouldn't be able to stand seeing that: the tanned skin far too pale, the sleek wings limp and still. There'd be no smirk, no quip, no shoulder bumping against his own, and Rodney pressed his lips together and blinked furiously, trying to ban the image from his mind.

"Rodney…" Radek's voice was sympathetic as the pigeon took a step closer, probably to be ineptly comforting.

"Leave me alone!" Rodney jerked back. His foot slipped on the wet bark and he let out a startled shout as he lost his balance… and fell.

"Rodney!" The rustle of Radek's wings, and such a sweet thought to try and save him, but Rodney would hit the ground well before Radek could reach him, and he was weirdly okay with that, something poetic about dying from falling out of a tree after being trapped underground for weeks, and he'd be dead in less than a second, and-

"Whoa!"

-and the impact was a lot softer than he'd anticipated. Rodney struggled to sit up, untangling his limbs from the ones of the person who had caught him mid-air just in time, before they'd hit the ground together. He felt… wildly alive, with his heart racing, and yet strangely cheated.

"Hey, you okay?" a concerned voice wanted to know, and Rodney froze, not even breathing. He knew that voice. He knew that voice, but it was impossible that he was hearing it now because its owner was dead, and dear Lord, he'd fallen right on his head, hadn't he? This was some last hallucination of his dying brain, tormenting him with the one thing he wanted and could never-

"Hey, Earth to Rodney. You okay?"

Slowly, so slowly, Rodney turned his head. Dimly, he heard Radek curring somewhere to his left, but he didn't care. Didn't care at all. His breath hitched as he finally inhaled.

"Rodney?" John's expression was full of worry. He was looking at Rodney like he (Rodney, not John) might snap any second, and that probably wasn't too far off the truth.

"You're…" Rodney reached up with shaking hands and started patting any part of John he could reach; his cheeks; his hair; his chest; his shoulders; the soft ridges of his dark butterfly wings. Looking for injuries. Looking for affirmation. "I thought you were… You're not dead."

John's face did that softening thing, the one that meant he thought Rodney was being kind of adorable. "No," he agreed, smiling slightly as he caught Rodney's hands in his own. The smile grew when he looked at Rodney's fingers. "You're not married."

"No." Rodney's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might slam its way right out of his chest and into John's, which would be singularly gross… and also kind of neat. He could feel his cheeks grow hot when the seconds ticked by and John didn't let go of his hands, and John's ears were turning a darker shade of pink, but he held on, thumb brushing over Rodney's knuckles.

"Good," John said hoarsely, and then they just sat there, staring at each other with lovesick smiles till Radek mused loudly that sane people probably would have kissed already. John ducked his head as Rodney's fingers tightened, not looking up but still smiling as Rodney tugged him closer. Their noses bumped and they both snorted, then John pulled his hands from Rodney's to clasp Rodney's face and tilt his head to a slightly different angle.

And then they were kissing. Slowly at first, growing bolder then, until there was nothing in Rodney's world but the softness of John's lips, the warmth of John's breath, the closeness of John's body. John's hair was silky-cool between his fingers, the very tips of his wings brushing against Rodney's other hand where it rested in the small of John's back. John's hands were warm and dry against his cheeks, and they kissed and kissed and would have gone on kissing except someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

John's hands slipped from Rodney's face to his shoulders as they both turned toward the noise. Rodney gaped at the two fairies watching them with amused smile. Weren't they supposed to be sleeping?

"John," the woman said warmly, her auburn hair glinting in the sun. "We rose early to come to your aid, but it would seem you are not in need of our assistance."

The tall, bearded man wasn't as eloquent. "Thought you were getting yourself a girl."

"No," John replied, fingers tightening on Rodney's shoulders, "not a girl."

"Pity." The man shrugged. "A bride would have gotten her own wings."

Rodney blinked, but before he could ask, John's hand on his cheek turned his face away from the newcomers. John was smiling shyly, and Rodney's heart resumed its pounding like it had never calmed down.

"That's okay," John said, thumb brushing across Rodney's cheekbone. "He can share mine."

It was such a stupid thing to say, yet Rodney found himself blinking fast and smiling a decidedly wobbly smile that made John's expression do that softening thing again. And it was so easy to tilt his head up and give John another kiss, and another, and this time there were no interruptions until they stopped on their own.

~~~

The End.

~~~

Except of course Rodney got his own wings after all, though he never quite learned to fly in a straight line and generally preferred to walk or let Radek do the flying for him.

The frog princess married a dryad, the irate bug tried to take over the world but got derailed when his army started a union, and the mole warrior eventually settled down with a field mouse and they and their children lived all in a brotherhood of farmers.

John never stopped being idiotically heroic, but Rodney enlisted the help of Ronon and Teyla, the two fairies who'd come find him, and together they made sure that no self-sacrifices were being made and everyone stayed safe. And if John called Rodney an overprotective mother hen and Rodney invited him – loudly and with a lot of choice words – to discuss that matter more privately, well. There were a lot of places in the flying city where one could pretend not to hear them.

~~~

And they lived happily ever after. Really.

~~~

So that poll thing

Sun, 11 May 2008 09:12:22 GMT

Unsurprisingly, I'm mostly known as an SGA slash fic writer. People mostly associate me with flower porn, John-as-an-android-or-maybe-not, and penguins (in that order). The rating associated with my stories is either R or outright NC-17, which is kind of funny considering most stuff I write is around PG-13. So I'm guessing the associated rating comes from the associated stories, which once more cements my belief that slash stories are generally somewhat less popular if they don't contain porn.

What did surprise me was that slightly (two) more people associate me with romance and/or friendship/romance stories than outright crack. It's also a relief, mind, as I was afraid that "crack" would end up the sole answer. I also liked that more people connect me with fairy tales than porn, as I wrote only about ten of them but love them a lot.

As for the themes of my stories, angst, true love and friendship got about the same amount of votes, which, yeah, I guess. Quite a few people also ticked "turning a cliché on its head", which kind of thrills me as I only did that on purpose once (that I remember, anyway).

In conclusion, lavvyan seems to stand for romantic, cracked-out slash stories with a rating of R or higher and revolving around angst, friendship and true love.

Thanks again, cupidsbow, for letting me copy your poll. The answers were fascinating and explain quite a bit about the amount of comments on various stories. I won't copy your statistics post, though – I'm far too lazy. Also thanks to everyone who indulged me by filling out the poll! :D

Copied with permission

Fri, 09 May 2008 16:15:41 GMT

cupidsbow raised the very interesting question how much of a brand name an LJ persona can be and posted a poll to find out. Because she got some fascinating results and I'm a sheep (and curious, baaaah!) I asked if I could post a slightly changed version to my own journal, and she said yes. She's awesome like that. :)

So, if you have a minute: what do you expect of my fan fiction?

View Poll: When you think of lavvyan, you think...

If there's anything else, you're highly encouraged to leave a comment. Thank you for taking the time to indulge me!

Apologies for any inconvenience!

Fri, 02 May 2008 08:39:21 GMT

I'm restructuring my journal over the next few days. ~~If you're here for the fic you can still find it on Wraithbait. Everything should be accessible again on Monday latest.~~

Stories are back, except for one or two I decided to get rid off.

I am not going to keep the current layout. It just makes the editing easier. The Header of ~~Geek~~Godness will be back.

ETA: I will finish tagging 2006 today. I will. I won't.

After, Or Maybe Between (John/Rodney, PG)

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 12:21:56 GMT

Title: After, Or Maybe Between
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 500
Summary: She didn't see them until she nearly stumbled over them; literally.
Notes: For 2of7 to the prompt of "John/Rodney, headache". Set some time between Trio and Midway, methinks.

~~~

After, Or Maybe Between

Games of Chance (John/Rodney, PG-13)

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 12:46:58 GMT

Title: Games of Chance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,500
Warnings: Torture
Summary: Rodney wishes that they'd never picked up the faint energy readings, that they'd never stumbled across this civilisation, that Sheppard's eyes were another colour. Sheppard, who is both the prize Rodney is playing for and a measure for how badly he's losing, and God, Rodney really needs to win this game, but he doesn't know how.
Notes: Written for berlinghoff79's birthday to her prompt of John/Rodney, deck of cards. Don't blink, or you'll miss the John/Rodney part.

Edit: Now with comment tag by villainny! ♥

~~~

The thing is, Rodney isn't even good at poker. Bridge bores him, canasta is for old ladies, and he cheats at solitaire. He never liked card games, but this, this is pushing right past dislike and straight into outright hatred.

The game he's playing seems to be some arcane cross between blackjack and tarot, the thin wooden cards bearing elaborately carved pictures and symbols in a language he cannot read. Five of them are laid out in front of him already, and he dreads having to draw the sixth one.

So far, he's losing.

Losing, big time, and Rodney wishes that they'd never picked up the faint energy readings, that they'd never stumbled across this civilisation, that Sheppard's eyes were another colour. Sheppard, who is both the prize Rodney is playing for and a measure for how badly he's losing, and God, Rodney really needs to win this game, but he doesn't know how. The rules haven't been explained to him, and all he's been able to gather so far is that leaves are good, feathers are bad. Very, very bad.

He wants to go home.

The E'anorata – the master card player, and Rodney hates her with the power of a thousand ZPMs – pulls a card from the stack between them and lays it down on her side of the table. She smiles.

"The Dancer of Leaves."

Behind her, the young woman gets the shallow cut on her cheek dabbed with ointment. Again. She's tied to her chair but doesn't look uncomfortable. And why would she, Rodney thinks bitterly, that one cut is all she's gotten so far.

"Your turn." The E'anorata nods at Rodney, the expression on her face slightly bored.

Rodney presses his lips together as he reaches out and draws a card from the middle of the stack. The smooth wood feels slippery between his sweaty fingers, and he can't hold back the pained sound that escapes him as he turns the card over and spots the five feathers in the upper left corner. No one has that much bad luck.

"The Maiden of Feathers," the E'anorata announces, and Rodney squeezes his eyes shut so they won't burn as much as he tenses, waits for the card's sentence to be carried out.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, but Sheppard probably doesn't hear him. He's moaning this time, loudly, so it must be bad. Rodney wants to turn around and see what they are doing to him, wants to tell Sheppard to hold on, hang in there, they can win this. But Sheppard ordered him not to look after the first two cards, both bearing four feathers each, and if this is the only thing Sheppard can control right now then Rodney will let him. He won't look. But there had already been so much blood and Rodney seriously doubts that Sheppard can take much more, and he wants to see, to reassure himself that that Sheppard isn't already dying, right this minute, while Rodney has his back turned to the ragged breaths.

"Observe," the E'anorata says, slightly impatient. "It is my turn."

Rodney doesn't want to look at her but opens his eyes nevertheless. There's no telling what these people might do to him – or, God help him, Sheppard – if he doesn't comply.

The E'anorata pulls her card from the bottom of the stack. Her expression is unmoved as she lays it down.

"The Brothers of Feathers."

The young woman's green eyes widen and she tenses on her chair, crying out as the whip – that one is new, Rodney doesn't think they've had that yet – comes down on her, again, and again, the torn edges of her dress soaking up her blood, green fabric turning dark red. Rodney wants to feel sorry for her, but he's seen her pout when Rodney's one and only leaf-card got Sheppard a brief respite.

"Your turn."

The E'anorata is watching him. She had listened to Rodney's rant about the stupidity of a system that granted green-eyed individuals nothing but an entertainment value, had acknowledged his threats to have her people reduced to their atoms by a bomb that he would build himself, and noted his refusal to draw anther card. Then she had raised her hand and gestured, not even blinking when Sheppard had screamed, meeting Rodney's wide-eyed stare with a calm gaze of her own as she told him it was his turn. He went along… he never wants to hear that sound again.

He draws feathers again, but it's only one this time. Sheppard still makes a sound, a choked noise that speaks of pain and blood and, and pain, and Rodney grabs the armrest of his chair so hard his knuckles ache.

He has to get John out of here.

When Sheppard falls silent behind him, the E'anorata speaks.

"Your collateral will be returned to you if you forfeit," she says calmly, and Rodney wants to hit her. He will regain Sheppard, yes, but he'll lose his "tokens", the dark-eyed ones, and even if he were willing to sacrifice Teyla and Ronon – which he isn't – Sheppard would never forgive him.

"Your turn," he answers brusquely, and she inclines her head, reaching again for the bottom of the stack.

"The Dancer of Feathers," and the E'anorata hasn't even let go of her card before her "collateral" starts screaming. A short metal claw this time, more blood, and Rodney looks away.

He can't hear Sheppard's breathing anymore. He tells himself it's because the woman's screams are so loud.

"Your turn."

"I know," he snaps, thoroughly disgusted with her and her people and this game. He snatches the card from the very top of the stack, not even looking as he throws it down. "There! Are you satisfied? Are we done yet? Can I just take my friends and leave your sadistic, blood-thirsty, barbaric-"

"The Leaf," she interrupts him, eyes fixed on the piece of wood he's drawn.

"Yes, so?" He looks down. The carving on the card looks like a maple leaf, and Rodney's fingers twitch against the urge to snap it in half. Canada is far too civilised a place to be associated with this travesty, but at least a leaf should equal another pause from torture, perhaps even some ointment. "What does it mean?"

"It means you win."

"I… what?" Rodney blinks at her, at the card, at her again. Behind him, Sheppard laughs, or possibly sighs, it's hard to tell the difference.

"You win," the E'anorata repeats, standing up and inclining her head at him before she strides out of the room with no glance to spare for her "collateral".

"What, that's it? Just like that?" Rodney yells after her. His rising anger is derailed by Sheppard's scratchy voice.

"Don't make her change her mind."

"Right." Rodney hangs his head and takes a breath, tipping the maple leaf with his finger.

O Canada.

The guards are halfway through untying Sheppard from his chair by the time Rodney works up the nerve to turn around. And he half-wishes he hadn't, because-

"Jesus, Sheppard, you look-"

-more dead than alive, Rodney doesn't say, and presses his lips together. Sheppard's face is pale and sweaty, blood running into his left eye from a gash that runs over half his forehead, including his eyebrow. There's a bruise high on his cheek, another gash right next to his nose, far too close to his other eye; his lower lip is split and his right ear is bleeding, and that's just his face. The rest of him looks equally bad, torn clothes and too much blood and what seems like a few broken fingers.

And yet, despite it all, the lunatic is grinning like he just cracked the jackpot.

"Looks like I'm yours, McKay."

"What?" Rodney blinks, shaking his head as he shoves the guards away and carefully pulls Sheppard up.

"You won me, didn't you?" Sheppard sways on his feet, exhausted and obviously in pain and still grinning, the idiot, and Rodney slings his arm around Sheppard's waist and pulls Sheppard's arm across his shoulders before the man falls down and breaks his neck or something equally asinine.

"In case you didn't pay attention," he says haughtily as they make their way toward the door, "you were my collateral. That means I owned you all along."

He stumbles when Sheppard tightens the arm around his shoulders, pulls him close. The sensation of Sheppard's lips pressing against the shell of his ear is too brief to really mean anything, and yet Rodney's heart is pounding like he's just won a run for his life instead of a stupid card game.

"Yeah," John says, "I guess you did."

~~~

End.

Thanks to villainny for playing audience and telling me to drop what was the last sentence. ♥

Crack!fic rec

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 17:25:38 GMT

Atlantis, Mon Remora by villainny is a "fish noir" story and retelling of Grace Under Pressure, featuring Sam Whale, PI. That stands for Private Ichthyologist, and Sam is hired to find out what, or who, is behind the case of the mysteriously disappearing fish. But can he trust his employer? And why are the carps keeping the case quiet? Click the link and find out.

I wish I could say I knew she was trouble the moment she drifted into my current, wish I could say I knew her for a remora at first sight, but I've always been a sucker for a sucker.

The Necessity of Having a Good Beta-Reader (or Why Spell-Check Just Doesn't Cut It)

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 15:43:46 GMT

I've read quite a bit of SGA fic over the last few days, and I kept stumbling over various author's notes, two sentences in particular: I'm sorry, this hasn't been beta-read and Thanks to my fabulous beta [insert name here], both followed by cringe-worthy mistakes in the first few sentences. And if this comes from she-who-will-never-get-her-prepositions-right? There's something really wrong.

So if you are new to writing or English isn't your first language or you think you are above such mundane tasks as having your stories vetted before you post them; if you think beta-readers are for other people because you never make mistakes: this post is for you.

1. Why would I need a beta-reader?

If you think fan fiction is just a hobby that doesn't need to be taken seriously, stop reading. You don't need a beta-reader. You might not even need readers. But if you want praise and your own corner of fandom with your stories recommended to others, finding yourself a good beta-reader is an important step in the right direction. ;)

Why? A beta-reader is someone who, ideally, will improve your stories vastly. They are the fandom equivalent of editors; people who will tell you where you did good and where you managed to write yourself into a dead end. They will point out where your characters are acting weird and help you find the inevitable plot holes.

Take my own But Never The Nights as an example: The story certainly doesn't lack passion and drama. It does, however, lack a beta-reader, which is why we see John break down in tears in Elizabeth's office, why I had to invent a whole new type of Wraith Dart, and why I got comments such as, "But there would have been weapons inside!"

Yes, there would have. I didn't think of it. A beta-reader probably would.

2. But other great writers don't have beta-readers either!

Really? Check again. This time, check not only your friends' stories but those of the people who are commonly agreed on to be good writers. Read their author's notes. Please note that in many cases, they don't just thank one person for their beta-reading services, but two, three, and more.

Now think about what that means.

3. I don't need a beta-reader. I use spell-check.

Yeah, look, no. For one thing, a spell-check won't count homonyms as mistakes (as in they're, their, there), plus some of the grammar suggestions are simply ridiculous.

Further, a beta-reader isn't just someone who corrects your typos. As I said above, they will make suggestions concerning the plot and the characters. They will suggest synonyms and tell you to delete three paragraphs because they're not relevant to the story. They will tell you that Rodney probably won't eat eggs Benedict because hollandaise sauce usually contains lemon.

Spell-check can't do that.

4. But what makes a beta-reader a good beta-reader?

First of all, a good beta-reader won't just make their changes and send you the "corrected" file without any indication what they did.

Second, a good beta-reader will correct your typos and grammar, yes, but also suggest that you write "Could you move more slowly if you tried?" instead of "Come on, let's go!" when you're writing Rodney (thank you, cupidsbow!). They will tell you that, "This is out of character," and, "There's too much exposition in your dialogue," and, "This needs an additional scene to really make it work." They will say that your sentences are too short to match the mood of the story. They will ask for clarifications where your research is sloppy. They will doubt the motivations of your villain.

In short, a good beta-reader will force you to deal with your story's inconsistencies. You might have to change significant portions of your storyline or rethink your view of the main characters or simply move the second half of a sentence to the beginning of the next. You might have to write up ten more pages to fix a major plot hole. You might even end up having to kill your favourite character. But in the end, there's a very high probability that your story will be that much better for it.

Oh, and a good beta-reader will probably be polite about their suggestions and shower you with praise when you're done. That's how awesome they are. ;)

5. Okay, you have me convinced. How do I go about finding a beta-reader?

If you're writing in the Stargate: Atlantis fandom, you might want to try out sga_beta or ask at mcsheplets if you have a John/Rodney or Hewligan story. As a general rule, you can always ask fellow authors if they are willing to have a look at your story or can at least recommend a beta-reader for you. You'll be surprised at how many of them will say, "Yes, of course."

6. So I found myself a beta-reader and they don't send the file back. What now?

Assuming you gave them a reasonable amount of time to read through your story and add their comments, I suggest you ask politely when you're going to get your beta-read story back. If you don't receive an answer within two days, ask again. See if they posted something in their journal about going on vacation (if they did and didn't tell you about it you might want to find someone more reliable). If they didn't go on vacation, posted to their journal about how bored they are, and still aren't answering your emails and/or comments: forget about them. Depending on your mood, tell them they suck and then forget about them.

It's always a good idea to stay on your beta-reader's good side (they are doing you a service, after all), but if they agreed to help you and then don't without giving any excuse about it? Don't bother with them and find someone else.

(thisissirius? This is your official permission to tell me I suck.)

I'll admit that more often than not I forego having short stories (< 1,000 words) beta-read. That's because I'm lazy, and as a result I usually get at least one or two comments pointing out something I did wrong. For longer stuff? I find a beta-reader, because I know I'll be doing my readers – and myself; so much better not to look like an idiot! – a favour.

Aaaand this got way longer than I thought. Sorry!

~~~

Male Enhancement 8A/10 (McKay/Sheppard, PG-13)

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 14:23:17 GMT

Part B isn't done yet, but since I have no idea when it will be done, I thought I'd give you A. In which John is an android and Rodney panics.

Previous parts

~~~

Rodney pushed the door open, trying not to drop the grocery bags as he pocketed the keys. There had been a letter from Jeannie in the mail; probably a birthday card. They hadn't talked in four years – again – but they still sent each other happy birthday!s and season's greetings!s. It was kind of ironic that he and Jeannie had their second falling out over his choice of romantic partner, but there you go.

Rodney hadn't wanted to keep up the contact at all, but John had insisted that family was important and Rodney, in a rare display of tact, had refrained from asking how John wanted to know that and simply complied.

John's smile had been worth it.

"John?" Rodney called, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. It was well within the realm of possibility that he'd permanently sprained his back by hauling everything John had put on the shopping list, but tomorrow there would be birthday dinner and a moist, spongy birthday cake, so Rodney wasn't going to complain. Much. Otherwise there might be a re-enactment of the Great Cooking Embargo of September 2010, which, just, no. Rodney had gotten used to John spoiling him with good food, and he was a genius. Learning from experience was what he did.

"John," he called again, leaving the bags on the counter to go look for his errant housemate. Being greeted with a kiss by the door – a habit that more often than not turned into something that lasted at least half an hour and left stains on the carpet – was something else Rodney had gotten used to. He might even give up the good if it ever came to a decision between that and kissing John; not that John needed to know that particular detail. He probably did, anyway… John was sneaky like that.

The kitchen was empty, obviously; so was the living room, and there was no light shining from under the bathroom door so Rodney ruled that one out, too. He smiled as he walked into the bedroom and saw John's familiar figure sitting on the mattress, bent down slightly as if to pick something off the floor, or maybe put on some socks. John was wearing one of Rodney's thinkgeek t-shirts – Schrödinger's cat is not dead!, the back proclaimed – and a pair of blue jeans – his own – and Rodney wanted nothing more than to kiss the nape of his neck.

And really, who was to stop him?

"Hey," he said, walking over to run his fingers over John's neck. The skin was warm, a little hot even, and Rodney couldn't resist the obvious joke. "Is your CPU overheating?"

John didn't answer. In fact, he didn't move at all, and Rodney felt weirdly cheated. He had expected an eye-roll at least.

"Hey," he said again, "are you ignoring me?" And then, "John?" when John still didn't move, just kept sitting there half-bent over.

Rodney swallowed against his suddenly dry throat and took a deep breath to undo the ridiculous clench of nervousness in his gut. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. John was just being an ass. There was no reason to… oh no.

"Oh no," Rodney breathed, reaching up from his crouch on the floor to brush his fingers against John's cheek, only realising that his hand was shaking when his fingers twitched into the soft hair at John's temple.

John's face was slack and his eyes were glassy, and he didn't react to Rodney's touch at all. Rodney swallowed, heart pounding in his throat at a pace so fast it sickened him. He closed his eyes and brushed his thumb over soft skin, stubble rasping under his touch. Stubble. Hair growth. Such marvellous technology, and now it was-

Rodney took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, staring at John's expressionless face. All right. He had to get a grip. If something was broken, it just needed to get fixed again.

The guarantee certificate was in his office. So was the contact number for the technical support. Rodney made the call, and then he walked into the kitchen to stow away the groceries, one by one. John got pissed when the frozen vegetables thawed partially and then clumped together in the freezer, and that was one argument Rodney didn't need again.

Then he went back into the bedroom, sat down next to John on the bed, and waited.

~~~

"Well. The good news is that the hardware seems to be okay," the technician – whatever his name was – said and gave John a pat on the shoulder. Rodney twitched.

"So what's wrong with him?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the sheer amount of cables that were currently connected to John's spine. He'd had to cut away the Schrödinger's cat t-shirt because John wouldn't be moved, and Rodney had refused to let the technician make him move. Now the remains of the shirt were lying on the floor, like a metaphor for Rodney's day.

"Yes, well. That'd be the bad news." The technician poked at his tablet and frowned. "You ordered a self-developing AI, and my guess is a bad line of code that caused the system to crash. It's not that uncommon with the older models, but I sure as hell have no idea where to start looking for the error because this," he poked at the screen again, "hasn't gone in any direction I've seen before."

"So what's your suggestion?" Rodney's fists were clenched, and he forced himself to relax them.

The technician shrugged.

"Get a replica of the original memory core and apply for a refund. The old one's a bust."

Rodney drew in a sharp breath.

"No."

"Sir, I realise that starting fresh after five years is-"

"No, I will not 'start fresh'! I paid a ridiculous amount of money for a functioning product," and god, calling John a product hurt, "as well as a 30-year guarantee, so you will not tell me that there's nothing you can do the first time there actually is a problem! You will take your tablet," Rodney pointed, "and you will sit in that chair," Rodney pointed again, "and you will shut up and do your fucking job and fix him!"

The last words were yelled, giving Rodney the small satisfaction of seeing the technician pale before he swallowed.

"If you want to send him in, I can-"

"Fix him!"

The technician took a breath.

"Yes, sir."

~~~

Three hours later, there were two technicians poking at their screens. Two hours after that, the next shift came in, again two guys who grimaced and typed and whispered and threw the occasional glance at Rodney when he watched them from the bedroom door. Another eight hours, another two guys, and Rodney was running on coffee, reluctantly sharing it to keep the technicians running as well.

At half past nine in the morning, the phone rang. It was Jeannie.

"Happy birthday!" she said cheerfully.

Rodney swallowed and gripped the phone so hard that the plastic creaked and his fingers hurt. This wasn't a good moment for any attempts at reconciliation, but John would-

Rodney swallowed again.

"Thank you," he said, and there was a pause.

"Mer? What's wrong?"

Rodney closed his eyes.

"John is… broken."

For a moment, there was only the sound of faraway breathing in his ear, then Jeannie said softly, "Oh, Mer."

"Yeah." His voice sounded strange and choked, and he quickly wiped his free hand over his eyes even though Jeannie couldn't see him.

"Do you want me to-"

But Rodney wasn't listening anymore. There was an arm sneaking around his waist and a warm body pressing against his back. John's chin came to rest on his shoulder, cheek rubbing against Rodney's neck.

"Hey." John's voice was soft and gentle, and for one irrational moment Rodney wanted to slug him. He drew in a harsh breath, and another one, heard himself telling Jeannie that he'd call her back before the phone clattered to the floor and he turned around, clasping a hand behind John's neck to draw him in. The kiss was clumsy, too much emotion and too little finesse, and Rodney found himself shaking even as he pulled John closer, even as John held him tight. He needed this. This, John; he needed it so much it hurt and he didn't know what to do without it, didn't know how to… and god, if John ever scared him like that again, ever, Rodney would… he would…

"Sorry," John whispered between kisses, "I'm sorry, Rodney, I'm an idiot," and Rodney held on and on and on.

He had to let go eventually when one of the technicians cleared his throat. Rodney stepped back reluctantly, smiling a little when John immediately reached for his hand.

"We, uh, took away the access to his own source code," the technician – it might even have been the same guy as the day before – said. "There was a bad line of programming from when he must have tried to adapt himself that morphed into… well." He scratched his head. "Seems it was running in circles for a few years… it's a wonder he didn't break right away."

Rodney turned to glare at John, who had the grace to look sheepish.

"That was your damn bodyguard thing, wasn't it?" he snapped, but his heart wasn't in it. John had meant well, and Rodney was beginning to feel a little light-headed. He wondered absently when he'd last eaten, and came up blank.

John evaded the question by offering to show the technicians to the door, to which they replied that they would find the way out, thanks. The front door snicked closed behind them, and Rodney was alone with John.

"You're, uh, probably mad at me," John said, worrying his lower lip and looking guilty, and really, Rodney should have kicked his ass. But their fingers were still tangled and that light-headed feeling was still lingering, so he just tugged at John's hand and kissed him again. And again.

He could always yell later.

~~~

Go. I mean it, go right now.

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 00:49:20 GMT

This. Mini marshmallows. I have no words.

This. Atlantis loves thrillers. Again, no words.

And this, as a bonus to the previous one. DA DAAAAH, DA DA DAAAAAAAAAH!

*goes to bed*

Writing in a language that's not your own. Or: screams

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 09:34:47 GMT

You know what? GAH. I'll just take a break from trying to remember if it's "few and between" or "few inbetween" and rant for a minute, shall I?

Apologies in advance for any offence to (against?) Americans, British and Australians.

Let's put aside the fact that I don't understand your basic grammar. I don't understand the basic grammar of my own language so that's my problem to deal with. No, the reason why I will never achieve that added layer of realism that makes most stories more vivid to the reader is my utter inability of memorising figures of speech (if that's even the right term). Or even comprehending them.

Let me give you some examples:

His opportunities were few and between. Yes, I looked it up. I get the few, but between? Between what?

She's got a streak of yellow a mile wide. A streak of… what?

He felt like he'd been hit by a two-by-four. What? A two-by-four what?

I'll start on a phrase and type half of it down, and then I'll have to stop and put the same thing into "ordinary" words because I can't for the life of me remember how the second half is supposed to go. Yes, you can look that stuff up, but everyone who's ever really gotten into the flow of writing knows that these interruptions can really put a crimp into your style (or was that cramp your style? I don't know!), especially if they happen frequently. And don't even get me started on how long it took me to get what the hell a "BLT" is. Or "TLC". Or "R&R". That was before wikipedia was big enough to include entries on "pwned".

Moreover, how am I supposed to tell what's wrong and what's right?

I've got you in my sites. What, really? As in, construction site, sites? Or is it "sights" and some fan fiction writers just confuse the homonyms?

I resemble that remark! Eh? But, resemble means to be similar, right? So how does that fit with an obvious contradiction? SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!

The English language, it's fun, isn't it? Only I'm not even dealing with the English language. I'm dealing with the English languages, and it's driving me insane. I learned British English for a few years in school. That's it. No studying abroad, no growing up bilingual, no prolonged stays in English-speaking countries. Nothing. So please excuse my frustration with your utter inability to make your language in any way a coherent whole.

Or, in other words: I'm sorry, America, but your spelling looks ugly. I'm sorry, Great Britain, but your swear words (curses, what have you) sound funny. I'm sorry, Australia, but I don't even understand you. Everything's spiffy. Uh huh.*

And then there are the parts of fandom that demand there be no Briticisms if you write for American shows/books, and vice versa. If you write Discworld, it's biscuit, not cookie. If you write Stargate: Atlantis, it's stopping for gas, not petrol.

You know what? Fuck you. This is hard enough as it is, and if you think I'll have every single story vetted for that kind of stuff even though you know perfectly well what I mean, you have another think coming. With a k, not a g.

/rant

* I know what "spiffy" means. I learned it from smuffster. Every other question in this, feel free to answer.

ETA: Er, I really wasn't fishing for compliments here, just venting. But thanks, everyone. :)

Ahem.

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 21:45:14 GMT

I wrote 952 words today. Not one of them had anything to do with sgabigbang.

But. Merman!Rodney

Sorry for spamming the f-list

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 21:35:10 GMT

But! villainny is posting her SGA version of Sleepless in Seattle!

It's long, it's gorgeous, and it starts here. If you like AUs, I strongly recommend you read this. I don't know the final draft, but reading an early version I was flailing and awwwing and ohnoing and smiling stupidly at the monitor. It's Romance that picks you up on crappy days and the character voices are great, and why are you still reading this entry? Go, go and let yourself be enchanted! *shoos*

“ - those of you who are just joining us, I’m Dr. Kate Heightmeyer, broadcasting across America from the top of the Sears Tower in Chicago, and tonight we’re talking about wishes and dreams. We’re speaking to Jinto from Seattle, who has a wish for his Uncle John who, he thinks, is in need of a new wife.”

Wild mood swings? Me?

U can haz LOLGate

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 09:33:04 GMT

Makez U laff.

Heee!

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 20:43:39 GMT

I'm an evil, no good enabler. Yes, I am. I collaborated with bluespirit_star and the_cephalopod to make tarlanx write Rodney/Pencil slash.

Yes, you've read that right. Rodney/pencil.

I love this fandom. ♥

He cradled the pencil gently in one hand as a finger traced over the spiked black eraser head, and then down the slim neck to tease against the military mark of ownership etched in silver, dog tag-shapes upon the black-covered body.