*shrugs* I'm totally still a bit drunk

For foreverdirt mostly, I think.



Zelenka crooned to it softly in Czech as he worked, but commentary was in English - this was traditional working formula while in the labs and maintained even when everyone else had found other places to be. (Orders barked in Czech did little but intimidate scientists further, he had found; this was sometimes, of course, the point.)

"Possibly," he told it, "you are in need of panel beating, but I suspect dents and rust are all that holds you together. We will do what we can."

Stargate team 38 had found it on a desert planet, unusual energy readings and glint of metal in the sun. (It is true that there were unlikely to be thirty eight teams in Atlantis, but Radek considered the number unimportant. It was a team with two marines, linguist, botanist; the number was no doubt almost so high.) They had brought it back, a curiosity, and Radek had of course berated them for carelessness - for who knew what it was - even as he had started to assess damage, hypothesise possibilities for use.

It had become easier when metal had cooled after long term exposure to sun, when he had been able to brush away caked sand and observe structure; long after others had left the lab, which was a blessing. After seeing the shape, Colonel Sheppard would not have been pried away from lab with even Archimedes' lever. But he had been left alone with (yes) robot, and with his head inside the casing his songs had even more pleasing harmonics than the restroom two floors above the infirmary.

There was much work to be done if he was to fix it, and he was too tired to do more than simplistic repairs, but he could not rest until something was done, at least.

"Žijeme," he sang, as he started to replace the diodes down the left side, "Žijeme v hotelu Zlomených srdcí!"

(Unregarded circuits, deep inside Marvin's processors, flickered happily to life and started to hum.)

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I am resisting getting out of bed today because #1 I am warm and snugglesome, and #2 I will have to pack when I get out of bed and I hate packing. This is partly because my packing will of necessity include tidying, and partly because I always fret I'm going to forget something. It's kind of a pointless worry, since I'm only going for seven weeks and anything I forget I can pop back here and pick up at any time, but pointless worries are still worries. So instead I sit here and snuggle a little while longer, debate which types of entertainment to take along with me, and download Outcast because EE! SG:A!

Don't forget to go leave Valentines messages for people. Messages of love, of lust, of squishiness, of unreasonable fondness, of friendship, whatever you like. Anonymous comments are on, and all messages will remain screened until Valentines. (Also pimp! Pimp like the wind!)

♥

(no subject)

Nothing gets me off my arse like the threat of someone preempting me, so I'm finally editing the 23,000 word ridiculous McShep fic that I've been sitting on for entirely too long, now. I finished it in October, I think, and started it in July of last year, and I realise that's a quite pathetic rate of composition but keep in mind that my previous best is under 7,000 words. XD

Mostly I'm worried because I've not had anything riding on the fics I've submitted to this fandom before, and I'm scared of being remembered for writing it if no one likes the story. I like SG:A fandom too much to want to be run out of town for a crappy AU. *grins* Ah well. I guess we'll see.

Still not finished packing, but there's not that much left to go - I'm hoping the internet'll be relatively easy to sort in my new house, because otherwise I'll have to go on a terrifying rampage and staple and pillage my way around Frome. Which would be a bit of a shame, really.