"Hey—Elton John wants his planet back!"

Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011. Chapman, Denise. Several Kinds of Genius: The Life of Rodney McKay. NY: Harper Perennial, 2015. Croft, Rosalind. City of Spires: A Memoir. Toronto: The Mercury Press, 2009. Dugan, Paul. A Political History of Atlantis. Oxford: OUP, 2012.

Comment-fic for eliade, prompt: John/Rodney--slavery slavery slavery SLAVERY.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

He didn’t know who started it but there was a wall on the Northeast Pier that the populace of Atlantis called “The Confessional”.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

A disgruntled lieutenant approaches Jack about DADT, Sheppard and McKay.

"I hope you picked someone really intelligent, otherwise it seems like it would be kind of a waste. Of incubation time, if nothing else."

"Let's go with Banach-Tarski as your safeword," McKay says almost absently, lips tracing lazily along John's hairline, and John blinks. // "You want to go with a Euclidean geometric paradox for my safeword?" he asks, bemused.

For svmadelyn's badfic-summary challenge, summary from hyperfocused: Rodney MmmKay's mother always told him smart boys never get the hot guys. Can he pretend to be dumb so hunky pilot John Shep Hard will ask him to the Atlantis: Under the Sea prom? W/ my OC Princess Ancienta. Warnings: ANGST M/M plz rd/rvw Oh, yeah.

"You're not a very good Jedi, are you?" the Sith Lord said. "Oh, excuse me, I am an excellent Jedi," Rodney said.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

"Here’s an idea," John said. "Let’s just not talk about it. That’s been working pretty well for the last two months."

. . . composed from a great number of actual surveys; and other materials regulated by many new scientifick observations of their Affections and Masculine Virtues. Drawn up from the Journals which were kept by the several Commanders, And from the Papers of M. Rodney McKay, Esq., FRS; In One Volume, written by A Lady of Quality. September 1811, Halifax, Nova Scotia: His Majesty's Aerial Corps stand ready to welcome new additions to their number; an expedition late of the Antipodes.

John had gotten kind of blasé about offworld travel.

Rule # 1: For every scientist, there is a grunt who loves them.

Rodney steps up. (Warning, I should probably be shot for this.)

The whole thing started when Yertel asked McKay, “If you have had trouble bearing fruit, there are many men in this camp who will be happy to help,” and Rodney said, “What? Oh, no, our fruit supplies are fine—actually, I’m allergic to citrus anyway so I’m bigger on you know, cake,” which turned out to be some sort of near-tacit admission of infertility on P6X-990.

Rodney had been trained for his position from near infancy. He had excelled in his studies and been selected for the apprenticeship over candidates twice his age. Now, years later, Rodney held the second most powerful position in the village. There was no one else who could do what he did. That didn’t make it any less meaningless.

The hammock was something he'd done more or less on a whim, liking the idea of it more than really expecting to use it. It's not like Rodney is much of an escape-for-a-nap in the middle of the day kind of guy, let alone a sleep-outside-with-the-bugs-and-risk-the-likelihood-of-slowly-developing-skin-cancer kind of guy.

In his rational mind, Rodney knew that following a girl who'd dumped you was really, really pathetic.

"They all think I’m your boyfriend anyway," John said. "Yes, so? You are my boyfriend," Rodney said. "Why is this a problem?" "They thought I was before I even was!" John yelled.