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WIP!
because if i'm not doing work, and i'm not writing, maybe doing a meme about works in progress will make me be productive.
1. the one about linguistics [working title: something something psammetich something]:
"Refugees, Elizabeth," Rodney said, "They're refugees, OK? Is that good for you? Can we postpone the rest of this conversation until I've had the chance to, oh, I don't know, maybe clean the vomit off of my pants?"
2. the one about how john really truly doesn't ever see it coming, no, seriously [working title: not struck dumb (i'm just dumb, that's all)]:
Besides, Rodney shouts a lot. It's not like there's anyone on Atlantis (anyone in Pegasus, Zelenka adds, although Rodney graciously declines to hear him) who hasn't heard him yelling about something, at this point.
3. the one that i seriously don't even know where it's going:
P4G-931 has abundant crops and the beginnings of automated technology and (most importantly, according to Elizabeth) several thousand people who haven't yet decided to hate them. As much as he hates to admit it, this makes up for the fact that their standard medical procedure for broken ankles involves chanting, incense, and meditation.
4. the other one about linguistics:
"I thought they didn't talk," John hissed, leaning towards Lorne, who shook his head, eyes wide.
"They didn't, last time," he muttered, "but that guy wasn't there, I'd swear it on his hat. " The hat in question was two feet tall and covered in orange feathers, so John was willing to bet that Lorne was right.
5. that stupid goddamn coda to grace under pressure [working title: grace, under rocks]:
“She was hot, okay?” Rodney’s trying to work up some indignation, or at least some shame, but neither seems to be forthcoming. “She was hot, and she started it, and I was hypothermic and concussed, and anyways she was only doing it to keep me from passing out.”
“That’s—you know that that’s really weird, right?”
Rodney sighs. “Believe it or not, that had in fact occurred to me, Sheppard,” he says. “I deal with it by reminding myself that I was concussed.”
6. the earthside genderfuck [working title: get me a wig and a pair of shades]:
"I understand, now," Rodney says. "This is all because mom wouldn't let you play dress up with the cat, isn't it?"
7. the one about the ballet:
"Seriously, are you seeing a theme here?" John just shrugged, leaned back in his seat, and applauded with the rest of the crowd.
as ever, asking me questions about these (or other things that you've heard me claim to be working on) will be welcomed with open arms and answered in as much detail as I can muster. As soon as I wake up, tomorrow, I'm going to move into the library and either write or learn biology, so i'll have plenty of need of distraction.
ETA: I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm almost to the end of the GUP-fic. This is what sitting the fuck down and writing will do for you - makes you figure out the parts you didn't want to write.
So, um. I know it's finals season, and ficathon season, and a great many of you are crazyfaced and/or elsewhere...but does anyone want to beta-read? it's probably not going to make it past 9,000 words, and I wouldn't be able to get it to you until tomorrow, but drop me a line if you're interested.
1. the one about linguistics [working title: something something psammetich something]:
"Refugees, Elizabeth," Rodney said, "They're refugees, OK? Is that good for you? Can we postpone the rest of this conversation until I've had the chance to, oh, I don't know, maybe clean the vomit off of my pants?"
2. the one about how john really truly doesn't ever see it coming, no, seriously [working title: not struck dumb (i'm just dumb, that's all)]:
Besides, Rodney shouts a lot. It's not like there's anyone on Atlantis (anyone in Pegasus, Zelenka adds, although Rodney graciously declines to hear him) who hasn't heard him yelling about something, at this point.
3. the one that i seriously don't even know where it's going:
P4G-931 has abundant crops and the beginnings of automated technology and (most importantly, according to Elizabeth) several thousand people who haven't yet decided to hate them. As much as he hates to admit it, this makes up for the fact that their standard medical procedure for broken ankles involves chanting, incense, and meditation.
4. the other one about linguistics:
"I thought they didn't talk," John hissed, leaning towards Lorne, who shook his head, eyes wide.
"They didn't, last time," he muttered, "but that guy wasn't there, I'd swear it on his hat. " The hat in question was two feet tall and covered in orange feathers, so John was willing to bet that Lorne was right.
5. that stupid goddamn coda to grace under pressure [working title: grace, under rocks]:
“She was hot, okay?” Rodney’s trying to work up some indignation, or at least some shame, but neither seems to be forthcoming. “She was hot, and she started it, and I was hypothermic and concussed, and anyways she was only doing it to keep me from passing out.”
“That’s—you know that that’s really weird, right?”
Rodney sighs. “Believe it or not, that had in fact occurred to me, Sheppard,” he says. “I deal with it by reminding myself that I was concussed.”
6. the earthside genderfuck [working title: get me a wig and a pair of shades]:
"I understand, now," Rodney says. "This is all because mom wouldn't let you play dress up with the cat, isn't it?"
7. the one about the ballet:
"Seriously, are you seeing a theme here?" John just shrugged, leaned back in his seat, and applauded with the rest of the crowd.
as ever, asking me questions about these (or other things that you've heard me claim to be working on) will be welcomed with open arms and answered in as much detail as I can muster. As soon as I wake up, tomorrow, I'm going to move into the library and either write or learn biology, so i'll have plenty of need of distraction.
ETA: I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm almost to the end of the GUP-fic. This is what sitting the fuck down and writing will do for you - makes you figure out the parts you didn't want to write.
So, um. I know it's finals season, and ficathon season, and a great many of you are crazyfaced and/or elsewhere...but does anyone want to beta-read? it's probably not going to make it past 9,000 words, and I wouldn't be able to get it to you until tomorrow, but drop me a line if you're interested.