December 18th, 2005


omgwtf, why am I not asheep?! ... I mean. asleep.

You know, if you keep staring at the word "asleep" when you're not, it starts to look really strange.

asleep ... asleep ... asleep

These are Rodney/Ronon story ideas I've thought about, usually late at night in my bunk. I might actually do something with the first and third ones some day, some way.

Rodney, Ronon, a night of alien aphrodisiacs. Fill in the blanks. When they get back to Atlantis, Ronon is interested in touching base for a little nookie now and then because Rodney was hot like a hot thing under the sheets, but Rodney says, we can't, someone could find out, and it would undermine my authority, I'd be socially ostracized (as if he isn't already, ha). He's closeted, in denial. Ronon goes to John and asks him about this subject, raising issues as hypotheticals--gay relationships, social mores, and so on--by way of asking for cultural education. (John: "Short or long version?" Ronon: "Long."). When Ronon brings Rodney into the conversation, John's attention sharpens and he becomes guarded and careful about getting his point across, which is to let Ronon know that he shouldn't bring Rodney's name into a similar conversation with anyone else, even as a hypothetical. Not because John knows anything in particular about Rodney; it's just that rumors can hurt people. Which tells Ronon basically everything he'd wanted to know; he realizes now that Rodney wasn't exaggerating about the cultural contempt for homosexual relationships, which is totally unlike the acceptance of his own culture. Eventually Ronon and Rodney get together again though and Rodney likes to splay and snore all over Ronon's chest, and if anyone looks sideways at Rodney and mutters nasty things, Ronon wordlessly punches them in the face.

Stranded on an alien planet. Could be a sequel. John, Rodney, Ronon, Lorne, and some marines. By a fluke, all male. But only because Starbuck doesn't work for the SGC. But now that I think about it--um, no, that'd be a different story. Anyway, they're in a ship with engine failure and have to emergency land on the nearest planet, one Ronon has visited before, though he might not realize it until they get there and look around. They get stuck there because it turns out that it no longer has a gate--the Wraith stole it. They travel inland (so to speak) from the gate in the hopes of finding a device that figures into local myths, which they believe to be a ZPM or whatever, and which is the only thing that would let them fix and power the ship. On the planet, the class division is: warriors and everyone else. Anyone not a warrior is a slave or potential slave. If challenged you must prove you're a warrior by feats of endurance and skill, hand-to-hand combat mano a mano. All that butch stuff. If you fail, you're claimed as a slave. And this problem comes up, in the way that vaguely kinky local rituals do in this kind of story, and so Ronon claims Rodney, probably preemptively, so that he's not enslaved by some local lunkhead. As their journey continues, sooner or later everyone on the team figures out that they're in a relationship. Tension, etc. But of course they need Rodney. Without him, they're stuck on the planet forever. Not that the marines would frag him even if that weren't the case. It just puts an interesting spin on things. And by interesting I mean that I have no clue where this story would go except that there would be sex.

Ronon decides, after giving serious consideration to both John and Elizabeth, and Teyla for just a bit, that Rodney really *is* the most important person in Atlantis (as he's claimed so many times), and so Ronon, as his duty, takes it on himself to serve and protect him in any way Rodney desires. Rodney's reactions to this are unclear right now because I actually haven't thought about this for more than three minutes. Would it be embarrassment and dismay? Or perky self-satisfied acceptance of this highly rational and deserved honor?


I'm posting the blather above because I've got nothing else in my pockets today, but I need to type something in LJ to demonstrate that I continue to exist. Also it is two a.m. and I can't sleep.

I am however trying to write a story that begins with the line:

"How the hell did a pregnant cat get aboard the Daedalus?"

sunday evening noodling and an sga rec

The ratio of stories I think about to stories I write is probably about 20:1. Today I imagined Elizabeth/Rodney/Teyla. And even pictured a little moment of Teyla being warm and sweet as she convinced a skittish Elizabeth to carry on with the relationship, and then there was kissing--and Rodney wasn't even in the room! Uncharted territory for my fantasies.

Despite the limited time I have that doesn't stretch to cover all the things I want to do, I spent two hours today starting a spreadsheet of SGA recs. Because how can I properly rec stories if I don't have a spreadsheet? No, seriously. Shut up. There are columns for title, author, date, length and format, rating, pairing, genre, timeline, and keyword summaries. I taught myself how to make drop-down list menus.

Today I am a fan.

I have a little crimp in my ass from sitting at my desk for so long today. I know I got some other stuff done because there is clean laundry on my bed and I own no house elves, but none of that other stuff was writing. Now I'm trying to decide if the butt-crimp is tolerable, or if I should get the hell up and...yeah, then again, a lack of Sunday evening alternatives may render that question moot.

When I asked for Rodney/Elizabeth recs, I got some good ones (more are welcome); in particular, a rec from lydiabell for Once Upon a Time in Moscow by ljmckay, which is incredibly good. To recycle my feedback as a rec:
This is extraordinary; the voices are pitch-perfect, and I love the atmosphere that this creates for a possible backstory between them, with the combination of the exotic--Moscow in winter, the party at the foreign ministry--and the mundane--Rodney working in his lab, shopping for American food--where in fact the mundane isn't really mundane, because he's working on the Stargate project, and the fact of that is just so wonderfully *there*, taken for granted, with no big deal made of it, even though Rodney can't say anything about it to Weir. The way *he* takes it for granted within the story itself is equally cool; it's his work, it's what he does, but his bond with Weir is established over shopping for Snickers bars, and how she laughs at his jokes, not over any smug enigmatic references he might make to his very important work.
I love her Rodney here. This story made me incredibly happy--and I didn't even mention how much I loved her use of Russian. I'm always so envious of people who can use other languages in stories. I'm monolingual and despite some college-era stabs at Italian I don't think that's ever going to change.

Unrelatedly. I've been having impulses lately to post voluminous everyday minutiae--like, page upon wittering page of unremarkable thoughts, lists of things I've read and watched, fannish social chatter, trivia that has stuck to me like lint, et cetera. Nothing's stopping me. I'm not inhibited from talking about myself. This LJ is a three-year testament to that. I just don't think the things rattling around in my head right now are particularly interesting. Instead of this, I give in to the overwhelming urge to provide "real" content, cake instead of birdseed--meaning that I've been feverishly pushing myself to scribble storyish bits.

Hmm, yeah.

I really need to add the words "rec" and "wittering" to my Microsoft Word spellcheck dictionary.