the insidiousness of fandom

First, new layout omg!!1! Go see eet!

Have you ever gotten to the point in your fannish obsession that a character's name is inextricably linked with that character and that character only, and the appearance of that name elsewhere is cause for much cognitive dissonance? I recently ran across a book of essays published in honor of RODNEY Hilton, a medieval historian; my first reaction was, "oh, poor John," because this collection was put together after RODNEY Hilton died, and then "but Rodney's a physicist, he would never ever be a medieval historian."

Then, of course, I started thinking about archaeologist!Rodney and some universe where Rodney is a linguist who specializes in cryptolinguistics and scripts like Proto-Elamite or Vinča. And John would be involved somehow, either as someone who sponsors Rodney's work, or maybe wants to steal it. And have sex with Rodney.

*considers*

I don't want to do any more work today :(

hotel corridors; my brain is making weird noises tonight

Clearly it's making up for almost being turned into brain gel during work today because now it's being all sorts of crazy and unfocused.

Anyway, sheafrotherdon is stuck with morons in her hotel and amberlynne has had a bad night. So. Meeting a post-coital John Sheppard in one's hotel hallway would make a lot of things better, I think.

aesc: I bet Rodney wouldn't notice the yelling in the hotel hallways because he would be too busy being ravished by John
sheafrotherdon: eeeee
aesc: actually, they might be the rhythmic thumping sound on the other side of the wall :>
sheafrotherdon: hahahahah there really was rhythmic thumping earlier
aesc: see?
sheafrotherdon: I was all . . . . really? really neighbors?
aesc: there was probably really low, fervent moaning and if you'd listened really closely, you might have heard John whispered, all rough and broken
sheafrotherdon: asdfjhlakjshdlfjkhaldf
aesc: and then in the morning when you step outside to start your day, John wanders out of the room in search of the ice machine, scratching just above the elastic of his boxers, and he nods a greeting and gives you a slooooow, lazy grin as he wanders by
sheafrotherdon: ahlskdjhfkjaflasdf I would go BOOM
aesc: aitches go splodey
sheafrotherdon: he would be stubbled
aesc: and rumpled
aesc: and his shirt would be wrinkled in some places, stretched out from being tugged at in others
aesc: and he wouldn't have the top button of his jeans fastened
sheafrotherdon: and there might be a little dark mark on his throat from someone else's kisses
aesc: that he sees you looking at and touches briefly
sheafrotherdon: asldkjhfalksjdhf gah!
sheafrotherdon: *boom*
aesc: WANT
aesc: and there's that smile of his, the one that would be shy except for the fact he's touching *bites on his neck* and he's stubbled and rumpled and doesn't look the least bit repentant about keeping you up half the night