SGA silly!fic and weekend ramblings.
Since I have a crapload of vacation days and no money to actually take a week off and go somewhere, I've opted to take every Monday off during June, July, and August. I think I'm going to try to do this every year, because it has been *life altering.* Seriously. I am so goddamn relaxed I think my spine has turned to warm raspberry jam. I'm slowly getting caught up on about a five year backlog of things I've been meaning to get done both online and in real life, with the added bonus that reduced exposure to the ongoing fuckwittery that is my place of employment has made me a lot more mellow about it. This is the first time in years I've not felt like I'm running as fast as I can but still falling behind.
In other good news, I finally got a new car. It has a black interior, and all the dashboard lights are orange. It's like it was made just for me. Also, does not die at stoplights. Woot!
A few weeks ago during the hate meme wank, I had this idea, and the idea was that someone in Atlantis started an anon meme, and everything in it was stuff people on LJ actually say about the characters, and I thought, "Oh, man, that'd be *hysterical*!" For me, anyway (and, really, it is all about entertaining myself). So I wrote it. And then forgot about it. And then I remembered it. So now I'm posting it.
This is not for or against hate memes, BNFs, shipping choices or character interpretations. It just *is*, because, man, if they could read what we say about them, it'd make for one funny anonymous meme. There were more things I wanted to fit in, but I think five pages is already pretty long for a one-note gag.
Title: Just Like High School
Summary: If anonymous hate memes showed up in Atlantis.
Pairing: None.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters do not belong to me. The opinions expressed by these characters belong solely to them--unless they belong to you, and I stole them for use in this story.
Rodney was, as usual, hunched over a computer when John wandered into the lab in the late afternoon. "Hey, I'm going to the mainland for that big barbecue thing, wanna go?"
Rodney nodded distractedly. "Yes, just a second, I'm checking my -- whoa." His eyes widened comically as he stared at the computer. "Oh my God, Kavanagh started an anonymous hate meme in his blog."
"What's a meme? And how does Kavanagh have a blog?" John asked, leaning over to look at the screen.
Rodney gave him a disgusted look. "Do you read *any* of your memos?"
"Just the ones that say 'Classified' at the top."
"That explains so much."
"So there's a hating thingie?" John said, getting Rodney back on track before he got the leadership lecture again.
"A bunch of asocial miscreants airing their real and perceived grievances in public while everyone flocks around like vultures so they can be titillated and outraged at the same time. Purely for those with a decided lack of dignity -- oooh, according to this, Zelenka's faking the accent to get girls."
John tried to recall if he'd ever seen Zelenka even talking to a woman outside of a work setting. If the accent was a ploy, it wasn't working.
"And about sixty people think Major Lorne is doing Parrish," Rodney continued.
That was even more surprising. "Where did they get *that* from? They went on one mission together a year ago."
Rodney shook his head and kept reading. "Elizabeth is a crappy leader and a complete bitch and...hey, did you know she's a secret smoker?"
"She told me that was a ventilation problem in her office!"
"Says here she sneaks cigarettes."
"Wow."
"Carson has the ethics of Dr. Mengele. Caldwell is a pussy or an overbearing bastard, take your pick. Even Hermiod got slammed, though I have to say, I agree with whoever called him a pompous little dickhead. And -- ew! Hermiod and *Novak*? Oh my God, I'm blind!"
John shifted closer, trying to read along, but Rodney was clicking around so fast it was hard to get his bearings. "Am I in there?"
Rodney suddenly got all stiff and grim, though John noticed he didn't stop scrolling. "I don't know, and I'm not reading it."
"Come on, I want to know."
"No, you *think* you want to know. Trust me, once you know, you'll wish you didn't know."
John went around to the other side of the table and took a seat in front of the other computer. It didn't take him long to find Kavanagh's blog, and the link that promised seven hundred plus comments. He clicked on the thread with his name at the top.
It...wasn't quite what he was expecting.
"I'm a sociopath? And I'm mean to you?"
"Perhaps someone else thinks it's not appropriate for you to *swat me on the head*," Rodney sniffed, still maniacally clicking his mouse across from John.
"Those are love taps."
"It's physical abuse. Technically, I should--"
"I'm a slut?! I've had sex with three people in two years!"
"Four," Rodney corrected.
"Do they even *know* what Ronon does in his spare time? Compared to him..."
"They don't care, because everyone thinks he's totally smokin' hot," Rodney said, with palpable disgust. "The only bad thing they said is the eating with his fingers thing is all for show. And so far everyone loves Teyla. They think she's pretty and 'kick-ass.'"
"I thought this was supposed to be bad stuff."
"Evidence, Colonel, of the average human's complete inability to follow directions."
John kept scrolling past several comments agreeing that he was, indeed, a complete and utter slut, and then--
"I'm sleeping with Elizabeth *and* Teyla?"
Rodney didn't seem surprised to hear this. "Well, you and Elizabeth did kiss..."
"That wasn't us!" John protested. "And the thing with Teyla--"
Rodney's head came up, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What thing with Teyla?"
Crap.
John turned his attention back to the computer, clicking frantically. "Ah, you know, just because we spar together and stuff, people think...geez, who knew so many people hate Cadman? They act like she killed your puppy."
Rodney scowled. "She made me go *running*."
"It's a miracle you survived."
The Cadman thread was repetitive and quickly devolved into catty comments about her make-up, and innuendo about her relationship with Rodney post-shared brain, which John was *not* mentioning to McKay. Against his better judgment, he went back to the one about him.
Doesn't respond to his emails. Thinks he's better than everyone else. Isn't really that great of a pilot. Totally flaming-- "I'm *gay*? Just because a guy takes a little time with his hair, he's gay?"
Rodney blinked slowly at him. "Yes, I'm sure it's just the hair that makes them think that."
John was still scrolling down his thread with rising indignation. "How can I be a womanizer *and* gay at the same time? That makes no sense."
"These things usually don't."
"And why is everyone obsessed with my ears?"
"Because they look funny."
John glared at Rodney over the top of the computer. Rodney only shrugged. "I told you you didn't want to know."
John picked a different thread. "Did you read yours?"
"No."
"It's not that bad, actually."
"I don't want to know."
"Honestly, it isn't." He scrolled down past the usual "arrogant asshole" and "socially retarded" comments that Rodney himself would probably agree with. "A bunch of people think you're really hot."
Rodney perked up immediately. "Really?"
"Yep."
"I'm still not reading it," Rodney said, but he didn't sound quite as vehement.
"I wouldn't bother trying to score with any of the women in the city, though," John added. "Looks like everyone thinks you're gay, too." Paging back up, he noticed there was a new comment in his own thread.
I think Colonel Sheppard should apologize to Dr. McKay for that time he stole his last Snickers bar out of his vest while he was unconscious.
"Hey!"
"What?" Rodney gazed placidly at him, innocent as a newborn kitten.
"I told you, I needed the energy to carry you back to the jumper."
"Pfffft."
Scowling, John opened another window, brought up Rodney's thread, and hit the "post a comment" link.
"That's you, isn't it, you asshole?" Rodney said a few seconds later.
"I thought you weren't reading your thread, Rodney."
"I'm weak. Sue me. And the Chaya thing had *nothing* to do with jealousy! It was a security issue and--okay, there." Rodney gave John an evil smile as he clicked his mouse.
John zeroed in on the new comment. "I don't talk about Flutie that much," he insisted, already clicking back to Rodney's thread.
"Keeping a picture of a deceased pet is perfectly normal," Rodney protested.
From there it devolved into spats of typing broken by indignant protests and creative name-calling.
"I was *not* cockblocking."
"You were. And I'm not faking the hypoglycemia, I can assure you."
"I don't have hair implants."
"You told me you didn't want that CD back!"
"I said I didn't need it back right away. I didn't mean you could keep it forever. And someone already made fun of the way I run. At least try to be original."
"I did *not* offer to give you a massage, and--no! No, that is not the way it happened. Just because I didn't know you were in the tent when I took off my pants..."
"I'm not 'afraid' of roller coasters, I just prefer Ferris wheels."
John had a perfectly good comeback lined up for the Ferris wheels thing, but when he clicked back to Rodney's thread, he got an error message. "Very funny, Rodney," he said, going back to his own thread. He got the same error there.
"I didn't do anything," Rodney insisted. "I bet someone told Elizabeth and she had one of the IT people shut it down."
They sat in silence for a minute or two, idly clicking here and there, but it was all gone. Finally, John stood and stretched. "Well, that was fun. We should get going if we want to make it to the barbecue, though."
Rodney gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you kidding? We'll miss all the good stuff!"
"It got deleted, Rodney. The good stuff is gone."
"You're so naïve," Rodney scoffed. "The drama is just starting. People will be fighting about this for *days*."
"You're kidding."
Rodney was still fixated on the computer screen, mouse gliding beneath his fingers. "Most definitely not. Cadman already has a post up in her blog about it. Ho ho, she called Kavanagh a bully!"
John looked at the computer, then at his watch. "I'll be back in five minutes with snacks."
The End
In other good news, I finally got a new car. It has a black interior, and all the dashboard lights are orange. It's like it was made just for me. Also, does not die at stoplights. Woot!
- Henry Jenkins compares and contrasts internet buzz and fan bases: Snakes on a Plane and Firefly.
- Young men and teens wearing low-slung, baggy pants fairly regularly get tripped up in their getaways, a development that has given amused police officers and law-abiding citizens a welcome edge in the fight against crime. My favorite quote: "White male, running, no pants, in handcuffs."
A few weeks ago during the hate meme wank, I had this idea, and the idea was that someone in Atlantis started an anon meme, and everything in it was stuff people on LJ actually say about the characters, and I thought, "Oh, man, that'd be *hysterical*!" For me, anyway (and, really, it is all about entertaining myself). So I wrote it. And then forgot about it. And then I remembered it. So now I'm posting it.
This is not for or against hate memes, BNFs, shipping choices or character interpretations. It just *is*, because, man, if they could read what we say about them, it'd make for one funny anonymous meme. There were more things I wanted to fit in, but I think five pages is already pretty long for a one-note gag.
Title: Just Like High School
Summary: If anonymous hate memes showed up in Atlantis.
Pairing: None.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters do not belong to me. The opinions expressed by these characters belong solely to them--unless they belong to you, and I stole them for use in this story.
Rodney was, as usual, hunched over a computer when John wandered into the lab in the late afternoon. "Hey, I'm going to the mainland for that big barbecue thing, wanna go?"
Rodney nodded distractedly. "Yes, just a second, I'm checking my -- whoa." His eyes widened comically as he stared at the computer. "Oh my God, Kavanagh started an anonymous hate meme in his blog."
"What's a meme? And how does Kavanagh have a blog?" John asked, leaning over to look at the screen.
Rodney gave him a disgusted look. "Do you read *any* of your memos?"
"Just the ones that say 'Classified' at the top."
"That explains so much."
"So there's a hating thingie?" John said, getting Rodney back on track before he got the leadership lecture again.
"A bunch of asocial miscreants airing their real and perceived grievances in public while everyone flocks around like vultures so they can be titillated and outraged at the same time. Purely for those with a decided lack of dignity -- oooh, according to this, Zelenka's faking the accent to get girls."
John tried to recall if he'd ever seen Zelenka even talking to a woman outside of a work setting. If the accent was a ploy, it wasn't working.
"And about sixty people think Major Lorne is doing Parrish," Rodney continued.
That was even more surprising. "Where did they get *that* from? They went on one mission together a year ago."
Rodney shook his head and kept reading. "Elizabeth is a crappy leader and a complete bitch and...hey, did you know she's a secret smoker?"
"She told me that was a ventilation problem in her office!"
"Says here she sneaks cigarettes."
"Wow."
"Carson has the ethics of Dr. Mengele. Caldwell is a pussy or an overbearing bastard, take your pick. Even Hermiod got slammed, though I have to say, I agree with whoever called him a pompous little dickhead. And -- ew! Hermiod and *Novak*? Oh my God, I'm blind!"
John shifted closer, trying to read along, but Rodney was clicking around so fast it was hard to get his bearings. "Am I in there?"
Rodney suddenly got all stiff and grim, though John noticed he didn't stop scrolling. "I don't know, and I'm not reading it."
"Come on, I want to know."
"No, you *think* you want to know. Trust me, once you know, you'll wish you didn't know."
John went around to the other side of the table and took a seat in front of the other computer. It didn't take him long to find Kavanagh's blog, and the link that promised seven hundred plus comments. He clicked on the thread with his name at the top.
It...wasn't quite what he was expecting.
"I'm a sociopath? And I'm mean to you?"
"Perhaps someone else thinks it's not appropriate for you to *swat me on the head*," Rodney sniffed, still maniacally clicking his mouse across from John.
"Those are love taps."
"It's physical abuse. Technically, I should--"
"I'm a slut?! I've had sex with three people in two years!"
"Four," Rodney corrected.
"Do they even *know* what Ronon does in his spare time? Compared to him..."
"They don't care, because everyone thinks he's totally smokin' hot," Rodney said, with palpable disgust. "The only bad thing they said is the eating with his fingers thing is all for show. And so far everyone loves Teyla. They think she's pretty and 'kick-ass.'"
"I thought this was supposed to be bad stuff."
"Evidence, Colonel, of the average human's complete inability to follow directions."
John kept scrolling past several comments agreeing that he was, indeed, a complete and utter slut, and then--
"I'm sleeping with Elizabeth *and* Teyla?"
Rodney didn't seem surprised to hear this. "Well, you and Elizabeth did kiss..."
"That wasn't us!" John protested. "And the thing with Teyla--"
Rodney's head came up, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What thing with Teyla?"
Crap.
John turned his attention back to the computer, clicking frantically. "Ah, you know, just because we spar together and stuff, people think...geez, who knew so many people hate Cadman? They act like she killed your puppy."
Rodney scowled. "She made me go *running*."
"It's a miracle you survived."
The Cadman thread was repetitive and quickly devolved into catty comments about her make-up, and innuendo about her relationship with Rodney post-shared brain, which John was *not* mentioning to McKay. Against his better judgment, he went back to the one about him.
Doesn't respond to his emails. Thinks he's better than everyone else. Isn't really that great of a pilot. Totally flaming-- "I'm *gay*? Just because a guy takes a little time with his hair, he's gay?"
Rodney blinked slowly at him. "Yes, I'm sure it's just the hair that makes them think that."
John was still scrolling down his thread with rising indignation. "How can I be a womanizer *and* gay at the same time? That makes no sense."
"These things usually don't."
"And why is everyone obsessed with my ears?"
"Because they look funny."
John glared at Rodney over the top of the computer. Rodney only shrugged. "I told you you didn't want to know."
John picked a different thread. "Did you read yours?"
"No."
"It's not that bad, actually."
"I don't want to know."
"Honestly, it isn't." He scrolled down past the usual "arrogant asshole" and "socially retarded" comments that Rodney himself would probably agree with. "A bunch of people think you're really hot."
Rodney perked up immediately. "Really?"
"Yep."
"I'm still not reading it," Rodney said, but he didn't sound quite as vehement.
"I wouldn't bother trying to score with any of the women in the city, though," John added. "Looks like everyone thinks you're gay, too." Paging back up, he noticed there was a new comment in his own thread.
I think Colonel Sheppard should apologize to Dr. McKay for that time he stole his last Snickers bar out of his vest while he was unconscious.
"Hey!"
"What?" Rodney gazed placidly at him, innocent as a newborn kitten.
"I told you, I needed the energy to carry you back to the jumper."
"Pfffft."
Scowling, John opened another window, brought up Rodney's thread, and hit the "post a comment" link.
"That's you, isn't it, you asshole?" Rodney said a few seconds later.
"I thought you weren't reading your thread, Rodney."
"I'm weak. Sue me. And the Chaya thing had *nothing* to do with jealousy! It was a security issue and--okay, there." Rodney gave John an evil smile as he clicked his mouse.
John zeroed in on the new comment. "I don't talk about Flutie that much," he insisted, already clicking back to Rodney's thread.
"Keeping a picture of a deceased pet is perfectly normal," Rodney protested.
From there it devolved into spats of typing broken by indignant protests and creative name-calling.
"I was *not* cockblocking."
"You were. And I'm not faking the hypoglycemia, I can assure you."
"I don't have hair implants."
"You told me you didn't want that CD back!"
"I said I didn't need it back right away. I didn't mean you could keep it forever. And someone already made fun of the way I run. At least try to be original."
"I did *not* offer to give you a massage, and--no! No, that is not the way it happened. Just because I didn't know you were in the tent when I took off my pants..."
"I'm not 'afraid' of roller coasters, I just prefer Ferris wheels."
John had a perfectly good comeback lined up for the Ferris wheels thing, but when he clicked back to Rodney's thread, he got an error message. "Very funny, Rodney," he said, going back to his own thread. He got the same error there.
"I didn't do anything," Rodney insisted. "I bet someone told Elizabeth and she had one of the IT people shut it down."
They sat in silence for a minute or two, idly clicking here and there, but it was all gone. Finally, John stood and stretched. "Well, that was fun. We should get going if we want to make it to the barbecue, though."
Rodney gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you kidding? We'll miss all the good stuff!"
"It got deleted, Rodney. The good stuff is gone."
"You're so naïve," Rodney scoffed. "The drama is just starting. People will be fighting about this for *days*."
"You're kidding."
Rodney was still fixated on the computer screen, mouse gliding beneath his fingers. "Most definitely not. Cadman already has a post up in her blog about it. Ho ho, she called Kavanagh a bully!"
John looked at the computer, then at his watch. "I'll be back in five minutes with snacks."
The End