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I'm suffering from a serious case of I Cannot For The Life Of Me Concentrate. Seriously. I have so many things I need to work on right now (some aren't even fannish in nature! :O!) but I can't focus on anything at the moment.
Therefore, I present selected lines scenes from some of the WIPs I have languishing on the laptop. They're driving me nuts, and yet, I love them. I can't help but feel that this is similar to the way parents view their offspring.
The one where Rodney gets sent to summer camp:
"And then he sets himself on fire!" One of the new marines says, laughing like it's all good times and hilarity.
The marines have pulled the scientists into their huddle, wide-eyed and a little horrified at what passes for entertainment among people who don't see anything at all wrong with strapping high explosives to themselves.
Eyes narrowing, Rodney looks over at Lorne, feet up and resting on the bench beside him, looking strangely content for a man that somehow managed to fall down a mountain just hours ago.
“What?”
Lorne’s actually smiling like this is the best vacation ever and god, Rodney wants to end it all right now, dammit.
“This is like all the summer camps my parents ever sent me to.” He says, glaring at his coffee. “Wet, miserable, and full of crazy people.”
Radek’s smiling, he knows he is, and Lorne continues to look amused. Or content, or just flat-out concussed from his earlier fall, Rodney can’t quite tell.
“Yeah, but at least you get to be one of the camp counselors this time around, right?” Lorne asks, as if that makes the situation any better.
“Oh, yes.” Rodney mutters. “It’s like a dream come true.”
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The one where John's pretty much screwed:
John was trying very, very hard not to freak out. Because really, it wasn't like he'd ever asked to -
"Major? I'm going to need you to stop thinking now, if you would be so kind."
And there was Zelenka, sounding calm and collected because it sure as hell wasn't his ass in here, now was it?
"Kind of hard to do that." John mutters, yanking his hand back as it comes into contact with something...something. "I'd really appreciate it if you could get me out of here sometime today, though."
Zelenka, and John had always thought of him as the nice one, just laughs.
"He gets a kick out of messing with your head, you know." Rodney says in a conversational tone of voice, and John has to squeeze his eyes shut because Rodney's not supposed to be there.
"Seriously. The man takes a few psych courses in college and...well...you know."
It's getting harder to ignore him because he keeps talking. And acting just like the real thing, and John's beginning to understand why the real Rodney doesn't like his people playing with things they don't understand without him around.
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The one where I lied about not writing (another) sequel:
Rodney's running on pretty much nothing but irritation by the time Sheppard rolls into the lab a little past eleven looking entirely too pleased with himself for Rodney's peace of mind. Sam gives him a look and points at a stack of files and the whiteboard.
"You didn't."
Sam smiles at him, nothing but sugar and sweetness and Rodney's eyes narrow becasue he knows she's anything but.
"Oh, but I did."
Over her shoulder he can see Sheppard mouthing "Play nice" and something that looks suspiciously like "I drank your coffee" as he seats himself at the table.
Rodney doen't know if Sheppard is actually done with whatever duties he had to see to or if Sam just appropriated him to do their math while they work on the reports and the devices themselves, but for the most part Sheppard spends most of the morning poking at things. There's are a few moments scattered in there where he's also smiling at Sam as though he actually thinks his so-called charm is going to get him anywhere with her.
He can see that Sam's messing with Sheppard's pretty little head, smiling back and laughing at his lame and pathetic jokes and like always, the poor bastard doesn't see it coming until it's too late.
"Colonel Sheppard! I was told I might find you here."
They look up to see Daniel Jackson standing in the doorway, eyes glittering with the sort of desperate need one only usually sees in the eyes of junkies and madmen, attention completely focused on Sheppard.
Rodney's eyes snap to Sam, staring down at at her laptop screen and biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. Sheppard looks bemused and in no way nearly as terrified of Jackson as he should be. He tries to make subtle "Run. Run now while you still can!" motions at him, but Sheppard's apparently the only living blind pilot employed by the Air Force in existence because he completely fails to notice.
"Dr, Jackson." Sheppard says, straighteing up from his slouch, and Rodny slaps a hand to his face while Carter makes a muffled choking sound.
Jackson burbles excitedly about the Ancients and Atlantis and Pegasus until Sheppard's eyes widen slightly in dawning realization, but by that point Rodney's firmly of the opinion that the stupid bastard deserves exactly what he gets and ignores him whe he shoots Rodney frantic little "Help me!" looks.
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The one where I'm writing a totally self-indulgent Harlequin-esque AU:
John doesn't know how it happened, but he has employees.
One day he was dragging around his apartment wearing clothes he'd been wearing since...well, since the funeral and stinking of alcohol and sweat when the doorbell rang and he opened it to see a wiry little man standing there blinking at him, face scrunched up in disgust as he got his first look at John.
Then the guy, Zelenka, pushed iside, and walked to John's kitchen and plopped himself down in a chair at the kitchen table and slammed a bottle down.
"He is such a bastard, yes?" He'd said, struggling to open the bottle which was when John had noticed the shaking hands, red-rimmed eyes and lingering exhaustion. "No word from him for years, years, and then out of the blue I get a package with a message and suddenly I am part owner in a business I do not undertand and everything else in my life is unimportant and I must drop whatever I am doing because it is what he wants."
"What?"
And yes, he probably had killed more than a few braincells on his drinking binge. But dammit, Rodney had been his friend and now he was...
Jesus.
"Tonight we drink to his memory and pass out like manly men after much cursing of his name and in the morning we decide what we are to do with our lives."
John stared.
"Do I know you?"
Zelenka snorted, eyed the bottle of vodka like it as a challenge waiting to be taken. "No, but that does not matter because we both knew him."
John probably should have given more of a damn about a complete stranger waltzing into his life and bossing him around, but hell, that was pretty much how he'd met Rodney in the first place.
"Okay."
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The one where I'm writing a completely self-indulgent cross-over fic:
They hit town an hour later, McKay in the back bitching about god knows what to his buddy while Sam tries to keep from smiling and Dean's about to fucking lose it, but then -
"McKay, shut up." Pilot Guy snaps, and Dean's kind of willing to take back a few uncharitable thoughts about the Air Force and flyboys, but you know, the town's dead.
Not afternoon siesta dead but dead, dead. Bodies in the road, doors hanging open, broken windows, and everything.
Dean's pretty sure it wasn't like that a few days ago when the two of them blew through on their way to the job.
"Dean?"
"Yeah." Dean eases his foot off the gas pedal a little as they roll through what used to be the center of town.
"Oh, for god's sake." McKay snaps, tired and annoyed, like maybe someone slaughtered an entire town just to inconvenience him personally. "This is some sort of cosmic karma, isn't it?"
Dean's eyes go to the rearview mirror to see McKay staring out the back passenger his window, face pale. Pilot Guy looks grim, but not freaking out, almost like -
"Dean."
Dean's eyes snap forward and he has to has to press hard on the brakes because there's some guy shambling across the road, clothes torn and stained, hanging loose on his body.
"Son of a bitch."
Fucking zombies.
"Yeah." Sam says, voice flat, and Dean does't like that, but he doesn't like that the zombie's noticed them and has turned to look at them eve more, his stomach giving a lazy sort of flip when he sees half its face is missing.
"I knew I should have stayed in Colorado." McKay mutters. "You and your stupid ideas Sheppard. God, I hate you."
Dean gives Sam a disbelieving look, because Christ, they're facing a fucking zombie and the guy -
"Shut up, McKay."
Therefore, I present selected lines scenes from some of the WIPs I have languishing on the laptop. They're driving me nuts, and yet, I love them. I can't help but feel that this is similar to the way parents view their offspring.
The one where Rodney gets sent to summer camp:
"And then he sets himself on fire!" One of the new marines says, laughing like it's all good times and hilarity.
The marines have pulled the scientists into their huddle, wide-eyed and a little horrified at what passes for entertainment among people who don't see anything at all wrong with strapping high explosives to themselves.
Eyes narrowing, Rodney looks over at Lorne, feet up and resting on the bench beside him, looking strangely content for a man that somehow managed to fall down a mountain just hours ago.
“What?”
Lorne’s actually smiling like this is the best vacation ever and god, Rodney wants to end it all right now, dammit.
“This is like all the summer camps my parents ever sent me to.” He says, glaring at his coffee. “Wet, miserable, and full of crazy people.”
Radek’s smiling, he knows he is, and Lorne continues to look amused. Or content, or just flat-out concussed from his earlier fall, Rodney can’t quite tell.
“Yeah, but at least you get to be one of the camp counselors this time around, right?” Lorne asks, as if that makes the situation any better.
“Oh, yes.” Rodney mutters. “It’s like a dream come true.”
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The one where John's pretty much screwed:
John was trying very, very hard not to freak out. Because really, it wasn't like he'd ever asked to -
"Major? I'm going to need you to stop thinking now, if you would be so kind."
And there was Zelenka, sounding calm and collected because it sure as hell wasn't his ass in here, now was it?
"Kind of hard to do that." John mutters, yanking his hand back as it comes into contact with something...something. "I'd really appreciate it if you could get me out of here sometime today, though."
Zelenka, and John had always thought of him as the nice one, just laughs.
"He gets a kick out of messing with your head, you know." Rodney says in a conversational tone of voice, and John has to squeeze his eyes shut because Rodney's not supposed to be there.
"Seriously. The man takes a few psych courses in college and...well...you know."
It's getting harder to ignore him because he keeps talking. And acting just like the real thing, and John's beginning to understand why the real Rodney doesn't like his people playing with things they don't understand without him around.
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The one where I lied about not writing (another) sequel:
Rodney's running on pretty much nothing but irritation by the time Sheppard rolls into the lab a little past eleven looking entirely too pleased with himself for Rodney's peace of mind. Sam gives him a look and points at a stack of files and the whiteboard.
"You didn't."
Sam smiles at him, nothing but sugar and sweetness and Rodney's eyes narrow becasue he knows she's anything but.
"Oh, but I did."
Over her shoulder he can see Sheppard mouthing "Play nice" and something that looks suspiciously like "I drank your coffee" as he seats himself at the table.
Rodney doen't know if Sheppard is actually done with whatever duties he had to see to or if Sam just appropriated him to do their math while they work on the reports and the devices themselves, but for the most part Sheppard spends most of the morning poking at things. There's are a few moments scattered in there where he's also smiling at Sam as though he actually thinks his so-called charm is going to get him anywhere with her.
He can see that Sam's messing with Sheppard's pretty little head, smiling back and laughing at his lame and pathetic jokes and like always, the poor bastard doesn't see it coming until it's too late.
"Colonel Sheppard! I was told I might find you here."
They look up to see Daniel Jackson standing in the doorway, eyes glittering with the sort of desperate need one only usually sees in the eyes of junkies and madmen, attention completely focused on Sheppard.
Rodney's eyes snap to Sam, staring down at at her laptop screen and biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. Sheppard looks bemused and in no way nearly as terrified of Jackson as he should be. He tries to make subtle "Run. Run now while you still can!" motions at him, but Sheppard's apparently the only living blind pilot employed by the Air Force in existence because he completely fails to notice.
"Dr, Jackson." Sheppard says, straighteing up from his slouch, and Rodny slaps a hand to his face while Carter makes a muffled choking sound.
Jackson burbles excitedly about the Ancients and Atlantis and Pegasus until Sheppard's eyes widen slightly in dawning realization, but by that point Rodney's firmly of the opinion that the stupid bastard deserves exactly what he gets and ignores him whe he shoots Rodney frantic little "Help me!" looks.
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The one where I'm writing a totally self-indulgent Harlequin-esque AU:
John doesn't know how it happened, but he has employees.
One day he was dragging around his apartment wearing clothes he'd been wearing since...well, since the funeral and stinking of alcohol and sweat when the doorbell rang and he opened it to see a wiry little man standing there blinking at him, face scrunched up in disgust as he got his first look at John.
Then the guy, Zelenka, pushed iside, and walked to John's kitchen and plopped himself down in a chair at the kitchen table and slammed a bottle down.
"He is such a bastard, yes?" He'd said, struggling to open the bottle which was when John had noticed the shaking hands, red-rimmed eyes and lingering exhaustion. "No word from him for years, years, and then out of the blue I get a package with a message and suddenly I am part owner in a business I do not undertand and everything else in my life is unimportant and I must drop whatever I am doing because it is what he wants."
"What?"
And yes, he probably had killed more than a few braincells on his drinking binge. But dammit, Rodney had been his friend and now he was...
Jesus.
"Tonight we drink to his memory and pass out like manly men after much cursing of his name and in the morning we decide what we are to do with our lives."
John stared.
"Do I know you?"
Zelenka snorted, eyed the bottle of vodka like it as a challenge waiting to be taken. "No, but that does not matter because we both knew him."
John probably should have given more of a damn about a complete stranger waltzing into his life and bossing him around, but hell, that was pretty much how he'd met Rodney in the first place.
"Okay."
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The one where I'm writing a completely self-indulgent cross-over fic:
They hit town an hour later, McKay in the back bitching about god knows what to his buddy while Sam tries to keep from smiling and Dean's about to fucking lose it, but then -
"McKay, shut up." Pilot Guy snaps, and Dean's kind of willing to take back a few uncharitable thoughts about the Air Force and flyboys, but you know, the town's dead.
Not afternoon siesta dead but dead, dead. Bodies in the road, doors hanging open, broken windows, and everything.
Dean's pretty sure it wasn't like that a few days ago when the two of them blew through on their way to the job.
"Dean?"
"Yeah." Dean eases his foot off the gas pedal a little as they roll through what used to be the center of town.
"Oh, for god's sake." McKay snaps, tired and annoyed, like maybe someone slaughtered an entire town just to inconvenience him personally. "This is some sort of cosmic karma, isn't it?"
Dean's eyes go to the rearview mirror to see McKay staring out the back passenger his window, face pale. Pilot Guy looks grim, but not freaking out, almost like -
"Dean."
Dean's eyes snap forward and he has to has to press hard on the brakes because there's some guy shambling across the road, clothes torn and stained, hanging loose on his body.
"Son of a bitch."
Fucking zombies.
"Yeah." Sam says, voice flat, and Dean does't like that, but he doesn't like that the zombie's noticed them and has turned to look at them eve more, his stomach giving a lazy sort of flip when he sees half its face is missing.
"I knew I should have stayed in Colorado." McKay mutters. "You and your stupid ideas Sheppard. God, I hate you."
Dean gives Sam a disbelieving look, because Christ, they're facing a fucking zombie and the guy -
"Shut up, McKay."