Okay, you guys. The cancellation of SGA has pretty much ruinned my life. I had just posted my gaybashed John story, and was just checking to see if it had posted on the flist properly when I heard the news. My first thought was: fuck this shit, it's not really going to happen. Then I accepted. My reaction to this has been to self harm as much
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I REALLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS RODNEY/JENNIFER THING THOUGH, GUYS. SURELY FANDOM WILL STICK AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO FIX THIS.
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But it really, really bothers me. I'm all narrow eyed at my episode download and have to read all fanwanky episode reviews before I can steel myself to watch.
Three or four movies a year make me feel better. I was worried we'd get one, like Firefly did.
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Uh, you know what you've driven me too?
"Please," John said, moving his hands up and down the pole of his chimney sweeper, in a way that Rodney was sure John thought was subtle. "Take me flying with your magic umbrella."
"No," Rodney said irritably. "I only use that when I go to a new house in need of a nanny."
"Come on," John wheedled. "I'll paint a chalk picture just for you, and I won't even make fun of your red and white striped suit."
Rodney pursed his lips and fiddled with his manly carpet bag. "My suit which you destroyed. It's covered in ashes now."
"I couldn't sell matches forever," John said. "At least, that's what your measuring tape told me."
"The measuring tape said that you were practically perfect for me - " Rodney pinched his mouth closed all of a sudden. "Chimney sweeping is *dangerous.*
"I like being up on the roof," John said wistfully. "Jumping between them is almost like flying."
"God," Rodney said, *You're as bad as the pigeons down at the bank."
something...something...something
"I have to go find new children to nanny," Rodney said huffily. "I can't take you with me, no matter how good...playing with your broom is."
"Come on," John said, in that awful cockney accent. "No one needs nannies any more. Women have the vote - this is the beginning of a new England. You'll have time off, take me with you."
"Well fine," Rodney said, cheeks pinkening as John smiled at him, teeth gleaming white against the coal dust. "But you have to hold my bag."
And John put his arms around Rodney as he opened his flying umbrella and laughed as they flew over the buildings of London.
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"No," Rodney snapped, "there is a *process* to making a good drink. I can't just 'mix anything in."
Unfortunately I haven't watched that show, so I don't know what's going on. Perhaps I have a new project?
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