murdocsangel (murdocsangel) wrote,

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I wrote a fic out of boredom...

It's really just nonsense, can skip it...ignore it...whatever..I was just...bored...and...yeah...

Title: MA on Atlantis? or God Help us All
Author: MurdocsAngel
Pairing: Um...? Read to see?
Rating: Not very sure...teen at the very least
Summary: Okay, so I was bored...and...everybody else gets to do a Mary Sue fic!
Warning: I have not yet written the fic as I type this, so who knows what'll pop up in there. I'm insane...that should be plenty for you people to know. Repeat after me: Do not read insanity if you don't think you can handle it...

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not a possession of mine, and this fic is in no way intended to step on anyone's toes. Mostly it's just because I'M BORED!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Did I mention I was bored? Also, this may seem similar to other stories of this particular genre, but this one is totally…um…off kilter, bonkers…not sane. So. Yeah.

Sitting around feeling sorry for oneself isn't a very interesting past time. In fact, doing so can cause a major headache, specifically right between the eyes. Do sinus' correlate to depression? In any case, I had decided to quit bemoaning the sorry state my life was in, and found myself completely and incredibly bored.

I could have turned the computer on and sat staring at the screen while I tried to see if I could write something, or if I could come up with more pretty pictures like the one I've made for this very group (shameless plugging, but hey, that's what this fic is all about), however, the point of boredom, is that you've already tried everything you've done before. It no longer takes the edge off, engages the mind, whatever you want to call it.

I wonder if this is how Sherlock Holmes felt when there were no cases of significant interest for his great mind to solve. Not that I am in any way, shape or form as brilliant as that man, but hey, I was bored.

All literary references aside, boredom can do strange things to a person. It can make you sit and stare at a wall while you twiddle your thumbs; it can let your mind be overrun with plot bunnies that will never see the light of day; it can even make you witness things that aren't really there.

At least, at the time I thought it wasn't really there. Looking back, I realize that my logical mind had simply taken a leave of absense, and I was no longer 'rational'. For those of you who don't know, despite the fact that I can be a little...out there, I am surprisingly well grounded. My head may be in the clouds, but my feet are firmly planted on the dirt, floor, whatever surface they're supposed to be walking upon.

I have always known the difference between reality and fantasy, and that is perhaps the reason I'm able to play so well in fantasy, because I know that it isn't real.

The rather large purple object in my living room looked real, felt real and even tasted real (don't ask, I obviously wasn't in my right frame of mind), and yet I know that it couldn't be real. Rather large purple objects do not just appear in the middle of your living room, floating in mid-air. They just don't.

So you can understand my obvious confusion, and dismay over the proof that I had finally taken that final turn round the bend; that I was completely and fully insane.

Now, I could have gone right back to what started my boredom in the first place--feeling sorry for myself and the state of my life--but I was more intrigued than anything else. Nothing had really changed from the last time I went on a self-pity spree (about a year ago), and so I couldn't quite figure out what could have made me have this quite realistic hallucination. Had my need for something intellectually stimulating--or at least different from what I had been doing--triggered this?

At least it wasn't a manifestation of David Nykl/Radek Zelenka, whom I have affectionately nicknamed Squishy (SQUISHY!!!!!!! Ahem, sorry, that part of me always gets out somehow whenever the 's' word is mentioned...). I think I may have gone running back to my room and gone to sleep, hoping I was having a dream rather than having my curiosity peaked.

At the time though, Squishy was as far from my thoughts as anything else having to do with Stargate, despite the fact that the floating purple...thing...was so obviously the stuff science fiction is made of. Maybe even Twilight Zone. I don't really like Twilight Zone, but hey, that's not what this fic is about.

Instead, I walked around the object, debating with myself on what it could possibly be. It wasn't amorphous, yet neither did it have a defined shape. It was solid and opaque, and yet I could see through it. This contradiction of my own visual senses piqued my interest further, and I once more reached out to tentatively touch it. The texture was strange, one I’d never felt before. Seriously, I couldn’t describe it if I tried. It wasn’t soft, or hard, or in between…it was just…there.

My curiosity was well engaged by this point, and I put both of my hands on it, memorizing the oddness of it, which may have been stupidity on my part. But well, YOU try not touching something that feels like that, see how you make out. Anyway, the object gave a sort of pulse that I both felt and saw, and then I couldn’t see or feel any more.

I woke to the sound of voices, far off at first, then nearer as my consciousness took over. I’ve never fainted before, so I wasn’t quite certain if this was what it was supposed to feel like or not. As happened when I fell asleep after staying up too late, I was fine while laying down with my eyes closed, but when I opened them and tried to sit up, dizziness and a heavy feeling in my limbs made me lay back and close them again.

Instead of the warm blankets and pillows that I generally surrounded myself with when I went to bed, I found that I was lying on something cold and hard; it really hurts when you hit your head on something like that. With a groan, I began the process of sitting up, first turning on my side; then to my belly, bringing my knees slowly up beneath me, and then pushing up with my arms so that I was on all fours. This feat accomplished, I pushed myself up so that I was in a bipedal position, then fell back, bringing my legs out from under me and sitting with them crossed. I was very proud of myself for that, even though I wondered why I hadn’t just sat straight up. Possibly, a part of my mind had intended for me to stand but…yeah, I was so not ready for that.

Through all of this, you may be wondering, ‘what about those voices you heard?’ Well, as I said, they were far off at first, but nearer as I woke from my impromptu nap; however, while I could still hear them, I couldn’t see anyone, and assumed they were a corridor or so away from my position. Which was in the middle of an Atlantean laboratory.

If I had thought I had lost it earlier, with the whole purple non-object thing, I figured now I was probably sitting in a nice sterile clinic somewhere while people clicked their tongues over the young woman who had gone so completely ‘round the bend, she couldn’t function in normal society any longer.

Either that or I had been dreaming the whole thing, including the purple non-object thing, because I dream weird things like that—and while they make no sense upon waking, in my dreams they make absolutely perfect sense. It was probably my punishment for not finishing my chapter of the round robin over on weirmckayship.

While pondering this—and pondering on how I could be pondering this if I was really insane or dreaming—the voices I heard got really close, like right outside the door close. I was scared. I’m not really an outgoing sort of person, and people coming closer, just…scare me. As the door slid open, and I ducked behind some weird console thingy, I decided I couldn’t be dreaming, because I never got scared when I dreamt. Scared after I woke, sometimes, yes, but never during.

“I am telling you McKay, he had twenty two!”

I instantly recognized the accented voice of my beloved Czech, and had to bite my tongue to keep from squealing. He sounded so exuberant, and I really wanted to see…but my own fear of speaking with strange people kept me right where I was, listening intently to the conversation.

“Twenty-two?” McKay’s voice was just as excited as Squishy’s, “I can’t believe he actually fell for it. I mean, of course he fell for it, it was after all my idea, but twenty two?” There was a smacking sound, which I assumed was Rodney clapping his hands together.

“Yes, vell, you can be the one to tell Dr. Weir why Kavanaugh could not vork because of eating twenty-two power bars with Athosian version laxative,” Radek stated, and I could almost picture him rolling his eyes.

“Now now, no need to be jealous, just because…who are you?”

I jumped and glanced up into Rodney McKay’s blue eyes, knowing mine were wide and frightened. I hadn’t even realized he was walking over here!

“Um…?” I offered, and gave a little shrug, not knowing what to say.

(to be continued…? If that is, anyone actually read past the first nonsensical rambling bit…)


Who should find something better to do with her time than imagine purple non-object things appearing in her living room...
Tags: fanfic, zelenka

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  • Hm...

    It's been a long time since I've written. A...really long time. In that time I have discovered this love of ellipses, since one of my characters…

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