itsallovernow: (Crossroads-Thea)
[personal profile] itsallovernow
In another effort to indulge my own wants, as well as spread joy through fandom (hee - like Cinderella, but without the housecleaning or the singing animals), I present to all and sundry the Cross Fandom Drabble Fic Reunion Challenge. (With props to, I believe, [ profile] oxoniensis , for the format taken directly from her Porn Battle and the ficathons that have been influenced thusly).

Here are the rules:

Write a reunion. That's it. That's all there is.

It can be a reunion specific to the characters in one fandom. It can be a crossover in whatever fandoms you elect to write about.

It can be drabble length. It can be story length.

All it MUST feature is a reunion.

The challenge will run until April 22. (Earth Day and my mother's birthday, which will make it easier to remember). Every few days I will post something linking to the drabbles that have been posted, so here's the other part of the rule section. At the end, I will post a master list of drabbles and stories.

Please post in the following format:
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable):
LJ Name:
Rating (if NC-17):
Spoilers: (For anything not aired in the US. Just a polite warning would be fine).

If your story exceeds more than a comment post or two, please post in your own LJ and then paste the link here. It would be much appreciated.

And to help the cause, a variety of lovely people have provided a variety of lovely prompts, most of which make me giddy just to think about. Please feel free to use the prompts, but there's nothing that says you can't use your own prompt. ALL FANDOMS are fair game, even if you don't see them listed. (Keep in mind that there may be spoilers for Farscape eps in the prompts. But folks, if you're coming to this LJ and you haven't seen Farscape, put down the keyboard, and for all that is holy, go put it on your Netflix cue before you come back:) Nothing should be terribly spoilery though.


Six and Roslin, History

Buffy and Giles. You haven't changed a bit.

Blood Ties
Vicki/Henry. Prompt: You haven't changed a bit.

Doctor Who
Nine/Rose. Identity.
Ten/Rose. Not a whore for angst.

John & D'Argo, Unless I see a head on a pole, there's no dead in this 'verse.
Aeryn & D'Argo, Unless I see a head on a pole, there's no dead in this 'verse.
Chiana/D'Argo, Unless I see a head on a pole, there's no dead in this 'verse.
Jool, Unless I see a head on a pole, there's no dead in this 'verse., Post-PWK
Really, any and all characters and seasons, Unless I see a head on a pole, there's no dead in this 'verse.
Aeryn, The Choice and the brown velvet dress.
Aeryn/TJohn, Reluctance
John and Olivia, "I never thought I'd live to see the day."
Chiana and Aeryn, Resistance is futile
Aeryn & Prowler, adjusting the straps
John & John, echoes
Chiana & Moya, ages hence
Crais & Talyn, talking about mortality
John and Aeryn - "I'll explain later."
John (& or /) Harvey - Many happy returns
Chiana and Aeryn, You had your chance.
Aeryn and D'Argo, : During Promises
Nerri and Maleek, How did she... Was she well?
John and Alex, At Stanford, "I saw you on the news."
Aeryn and Jack Crichton. post-PKW
Olivia and Aeryn. post-PKW
John and Stark. Stark's arrival before The Locket
John, Aeryn, Little D, Scorpius, Braca, Grayza, Two years later, Chancellor Grayza convenes the Assembly of Nations.
Braca and Scorpius, 'unexpected'.

Saphron and the Serenity crew. She's after something they've got, but her priorities have changed.
Simon and his parents. "Well this is a surprise."
Mal & Serenity. "This is the last time we'll be apart."
Mal & Zoe. Forgiveness.

Friday Night Lights
Smash & Waverly - "Things didn't go exactly as planned."

Harry Potter
The Golden Trio (Harry, Ron, and Hermione). It never seems like it's been all that lon

Peter. "I thought you didn't want me here."
Matt/Janice. Prompt: He never thought he'd see her again.
Claire and Lyle Bennet, Did I Miss Anything
Claire and Mr. Bennet, I don't know if I should thank you.
Hiro, Ando, Nathan, Peter and Isaac, as a group. Saving the world could have been easier.

Richie, Duncan. Duncan only thought he had killed Richie.

Justice League International
Tora and Guy and/or Bea, 'silence'.

Gimli & horses, iron
Gimli & Legolas, frost
Aragorn & Minas Tirith, rune

John Sheppard and Aiden Ford. Try, try again.
Teyla and John. One Art
John & or / Rodney, Ascension
Ronon and Rodney. If Caldwell hadn't let them go after him in Sateda

Joe &/ David - Convention

Daniel and Vala. Neither of them has ever been good at standing still.
Cam and Vala. Going home.
Sam and Cameron. Come fly away with me.
Jack and Cameron, "And Fortinbras, knee deep in Danes, lived happily ever after."
Original Team, The Diameter of the Bomb
Sam and Daniel, Thanks, Robert Frost
Cameron &/ Daniel, Granny's Farm
Daniel &/ Jack, Gate goes public
Sam &/ Vala, We've got to save the world. Again.
Cam/Vala/Daniel, I didn't think I'd see you again.
Cam & Vala, Fancy meeting you here.
Teal'c, Vala, & Cameron - "How's this for an awkward morning after." "Six months later, you mean."
Cameron Mitchell and Teal'c. Everybody likes to go their own way--to choose their own time and manner of devotion. (Jane Austen)

Awesome Andy and Mallory, 'surprise'

Slings & Arrows
Geoffrey and Ellen, "I haven't stepped foot in a theater in years."
Geoffrey/Acting. "I haven't missed you at all. Except that's a lie."

Chloe/Oliver. It's not easy being green

Sam and Jo, years hence. Banshee.
Ellen and John, any point in the timeline (including the future). Not the roadhouse.
Sam and Zach,Becky says...
Sam and Dean and Missouri, After it was over, the two remaining Winchesters straggled inside, arms over each other's shoulders, knuckles bloodied and dirt-caked.
John & Dean, casings
Dean & Gordon, mist
Missouri & John, roadmaps
Truckzilla & Impala, glow
Dean and John. Sometime in the future. Prompt: "I did what you told me.

Captain Jack/Torchwood
Captain Jack/Rose. After.

Skyfire and Starscream, 'dark'.
Armada: Hot Shot and Wheeljack, 'frozen'.

Charles and Magneto, 'steel'.
(Movieverse): Magneto and Mystique, 'smirk'.

Crossover Madness

XF/SGA: Scully and John Sheppard: "You haven't changed a bit."

WW/SN: Toby and Dan (or, ooh -- CJ and Dana) (or any combination thereof): "Whoever told you that you were any sort of sports expert was lying."

Da Vinci's Inquest/Due South: Dominic and Fraser: "I need your help."

Supernatural/Northern Exposure: Chris and Sam and Dean: "You don't remember me, do you?"

ETA: Now with Crossover Madness added, because I woke up realizing I'd neglected to post those prompts. Crossover madness is HIGHLY encouraged!

Date: 2007-04-11 08:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom: Farscape/Stargate SG1
Title: Rage Against the Dying of the Light
Author: EllieJane
LJ Name: EllieJane
Rating: G
Spoilers: For Farscape through PKWars/For SG1 through S8

Rage Against the Dying of the Light

He's fallen. Fallen, tumbled down, hit the ground – the naked curve of a hip and pale hair in the dust. Oma grieves for him, as she grieved for Daniel. This one had touched fire and burned in much the same way as Daniel did. He had thundered against the cloying, cloistered skies and the "look, don’t touch" philosophies, as well.

They find John Crichton in the same place, the same planet, the same village where Daniel fell to earth. Not amongst his adopted stars, where his surrogate family lives out his life by proxy, even now. The other John had lived to reach through the fabric of the universe and touch the Ancients' power but never saw his mirror image, raging impotently.

Two John Crichtons in one place would be too much for any soul to bear. (This much has been proved before, says Oma.)

Daniel hunkers down, wipes the smears of earth from the man's cheek.

"I..." the man pauses, squints a little. “I know you. Don’t I?” he frowns. This John - who never had a child, never had peace, never had Aeryn for long enough.

"Yes," says Daniel. "You do."


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Date: 2007-04-11 10:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ooo, that's really neat.

Date: 2007-04-12 01:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow. Very cool. I love your imagery.

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Date: 2007-04-13 04:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
WOW, that was just awesome. Very potent w/so few words- wonderful job.

Aeryn & D'Argo, No Head on A Pole (FS, Post-PKW)

Date: 2007-04-13 07:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
He sees the boy first, dashing amongst the legs in a crowded market place and when he hears the solid, sultry timber of her voice calling his name, D'Argo thinks it's just another in a long line of post-near death hallucinations. It took him nearly a cycle to recover, and by that time, while Crichton's work was well known (his effort at nearly annhilating the universe, bringing about an unctious peace), his presence had sort of filtered off the map. D'Argo hadn't done a lot of looking for his friends (no time, no chance, and this the first planet he's found with work and potential), but he still did a lot of listening, and mostly what he heard was vaccuum and static.

Regardless, when he sees the boy dart too close to the wheels of a cart, he grabs him, hauls him up into his arms. The boy goes still, wide-eyed and assessing - eyes greyish blue, and mouth just about perfect. He starts to squirm, seeking escape and D'Argo hears a name - his name. But the boy also turns his head at the sound, (and he knows then, the way one just does, that it's not just futile hope, that the gods do actually care) and then it's similar grey eyes and an equally assessing gaze so close he can smell the scent of her skin, feel the warmth of her surprise.

He starts to smile, so wide that he feels like it might break out over his whole body, and he lets the squirming, serious child slide from his own arms into those of his mother.

"Finally, you chose a good name," he says, and Aeryn Sun's solid punch to his arm doesn't even sting.

"Frell you," she says, but there are tears in her eyes. He can tell even through his own misty gaze. D'Argo looks around, keeps coming back to the beautiful boy in Aeryn's arms, but still doesn't see John. The stone in his gut is weighted, leaden.

"Where..." he starts to say, tries to keep his voice low and solid, just in case, and she hefts her son up higher on her hip, and she shakes her head with a smile.

"He's here," she says, calm and warm. "He'll be right here."
From: [identity profile]
Awww, man, I think I'm gonna cry. That's gorgeous, so perfectly them. And Big D has to be alive. He has to be. *sniffles*

Re: Aeryn & D'Argo, No Head on A Pole (FS, Post-PKW)

From: [personal profile] kazbaby - Date: 2007-04-15 01:10 am (UTC) - Expand

Farscape: Chiana and Moya, ages hence

Date: 2007-04-14 05:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable): Farscape, Chiana and Moya, ages hence
Author: Isabelle
LJ Name: [ profile] pellucid
Rating: G
Spoilers: everything, yet nothing too specific
Note: the Ballad of Moya is lovingly borrowed from Kerne

At the end of her life, after the last fragile peace she's seen brokered has splintered apart, after the last of the children she's midwived has sacrificed his life in the splintering, she returns to the stars to die. 1000 cycles is too much life, even for Chiana.

The leviathan was unlooked for, but Chiana somehow isn't surprised when, her small craft losing fuel, she feels the forgotten, familiar tug of a docking web pulling her home. The ship's name is Cereth, and she does not like passengers in this unstable time, the Pilot says, but she insisted on picking up Chiana.

Cereth is a poet, and a collector of tales, and stories are the only currency Chiana has anymore. For arns at a time the Pilot listens and translates as Chiana remembers, the Nebari Conflicts receding into the great Peacekeeper-Scarran Wars, until a name from the distant past causes the Pilot's eyes to widen and his arms to still, and she feels a throb of excitement from the ship. Moya.

The translation is ineffective, so Cereth herself sings, in hums and pulses and colors, the Ballad of Moya, greatest of leviathans. She who broke free of slavery, who birthed a gunship and arbitrated peace, who navigated wormholes and landed on planets and swam in terrestrial seas. And Chiana's eyes slip closed as she listens and feels in this language she shouldn't understand, her youth rushing forward to meet her in the warm gold of leviathan skin and the magic brilliance of a starburst.

Re: Farscape: Chiana and Moya, ages hence

Date: 2007-04-14 10:39 pm (UTC)
kazbaby: (touch the universe)
From: [personal profile] kazbaby
*does best not to whimper and cry but completely fails*

That was so beautiful.

*grabs a tissue*

Re: Farscape: Chiana and Moya, ages hence

From: [personal profile] kernezelda - Date: 2007-04-14 10:58 pm (UTC) - Expand

Nothing is Ever Truly Lost - 1/2

Date: 2007-04-15 12:13 am (UTC)
ext_166: Over a Canadian flag: "No, don't you get it? If you die in Canada, you die in real life!" (Unity)
From: [identity profile]
Here by way of [ profile] kazbaby - Okay, I have to. Have to. Be warned - this is insta-fic, written directly to lj and given a look-over in chat by the lovely [ profile] kazbaby - it's still fairly rough.

Fandom and Prompt: Farscape, and while not a specific prompt, it definitely falls in the "lack of heads on poles" category
Title: Nothing is Ever Truly Lost
Author: LadySmith
LJ Name: [ profile] lady_smith
Spoilers: If you've seen Farscape, you're good. Mild reference to PK wars.

Nothing is Ever Truly Lost

He coughs, stirs and blinks his eyes - the newer right one watering more than the left, as always - and manages the strength to croak out "did we make it?"

An idiotic question. He would be the first to know if they'd all died. But he'd felt the presence of Zhaan so strongly when they were in the swirling chaotic vortex of wormhole energies, and was still feeling it just as strongly now, he forgives himself for being confused. Being near wormholes and nexi always does this to him, makes him feel her presence again, though it always fades. He wonders how long it will last this time.

"We... we did." Pilot says, and there is a note of utter awe and disbelief in his voice. Stark can't blame Pilot at all - he thought they were all done for this time as well. Linking minds with pilot and focusing on what he knew to be their true and proper place in space time seems utterly fahrbot, though it was their only option. Just when he'd thought they were done for, however, he'd felt that presence, that connection, and somehow it made him stronger, made him able to pull them home. Stark knows he should probably shift from being sprawled on the console, but oh, he is so tired, and the lingering sensations of that almost-connection with Zhaan are still with him, and he is terrified that if he moves they will be whisked away, as if by a brisk breeze.

Re: Nothing is Ever Truly Lost - 2/2

Date: 2007-04-15 12:14 am (UTC)
ext_166: Over a Canadian flag: "No, don't you get it? If you die in Canada, you die in real life!" (Plot Tribble Slave)
From: [identity profile]
"Stark," he hears Aeryn behind him, "you... you really should..."

He closes his eyes again, and nods, saying "I know, I know... I will..." And he feels the need to explain himself, even though he knows the others will never understand, "Goddess, I could feel her that time, not just an echo, but like she was truly there, and we guided Moya home together..."

A bright, sudden and vibrantly alive burst of laughter shatters his concentration, and his eyes shoot wide open. "I was," the impossibly familiar voice says, "and we did." Slowly, fighting terrible, burning hope, he lifts his head to look in front of him.

Immediately his vision is clouded again as the tears fill his eyes - for she is there, truly there in front of him - he knows it from the way no dream or memory of his has ever been able to completely capture the brilliance of that perfect smile.

Still he can't help but tempt whatever capricious force has been guiding his life into ripping everything away from him again - both her and sanity - by asking "Aeryn? Pilot? Do you..."

"Yes, Stark" Aeryn says, her voice thick with emotion, "we see her."

"Beloved" Zhaan says, and Stark realizes with a jolt that she is looking directly at him, and is speaking only to him, and his spirit dances for joy within his shell, for the love he sees in her eyes he had honestly come to think he'd only ever imagined.

"Zhaan" he replies, barely above a whisper, tears streaming down his face, "How..."

She walks toward him, and without thinking he slides off the console to join her, his arms wrapping around her as she says. "You guided me home. I was lost, and you found me. And now we are all home."

He smiles crookedly, feeling her hand stroking his short cropped hair - and wonders for an insane moment if she likes it. He'd shave it off if she didn't - frell, he'd dip himself in blue paint if she asked, anything - but she merely stares into his eyes as if, like him, she is seeing the most beautiful sight in all the universe.

"I... missed you" he says, and her smile widens, amusement twinkling in her eyes, even as he curses himself for sounding like an utter frellnik. Frell it, he thinks decisively - Words, what good have words ever been between them? They were always so much more than words - and he leans forward to seal her mouth with his, breathing in her almost but never truly forgotten scent, feeling her mind brush against his with the softest, gentlest tenderness. He moans softly and feels his truest self rush forward to blend with her, join with her in perfect Unity.

Welcome home Welcome home - the thought echoes, mingling, source and destination one and the same. And oh - he is so grateful to finally be home.

Chiana and Aeryn, Resistance is futile

Date: 2007-04-17 01:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt: FS, Chiana and Aeryn, Resistance is futile
Title: Resistance is Futile
Author: annaK
LJ Name: [ profile] annakarrennina
Spoilers: Through PK Wars.
Note: This got a lot longer than planned. 1136 words.
Warning: This is NOT happy fic.

Resistance is Futile

Date: 2007-04-17 01:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom: Farscape
Title: In the Sky with Diamonds
Author: EllieJane
LJ Name: EllieJane
Rating: G
Prompt: Aeryn/TJohn, Reluctance

In the Sky with Diamonds

"I don't need to see this to remember you're here. I don't need to be here to think of you." Each cycle she thinks perhaps she will not come, and yet she does.

Cycle after cycle. Coming back. Running away. Making excuses. So many strands of her life bound up in this man, in these men. Once, she'd unravelled; the strands whip-snapped as they whirled out, the tension in them making a momentum that did not stop till she was thread bare and exposed. She'd tied her self back up inexpertly, all knotted scars.

"Here." She places her palm against the cool glass. "I'm here." And outside the confined space of the prowler, there in the vacuum, are iridescent, almost imperceptible particles orbiting a gas giant. Rings of atoms and ice. Of dust and ash. Of ash and man.

In the prowler, John rests his chin against her shoulder from his seat behind hers.

"You don't have to come here," he says to her.

"No, I don't," she says to him, although she does. Throughout the cycles, she visits the invisible ashes of John Crichton not to grieve, but to remember. Since those dark, dark days, she has long been twined back together, reassembled, frayed threads teased out lovingly by new familiar hands and woven back in. She is whole again. But that does not mean she forgets.

Each cycle she thinks perhaps she will not come, and yet somehow she is drawn back to this resting place. She loved him then, and this is all she can do for him now. It seems only right, only fair.

"I'm here," she says, as her fingertips warm the glass. "And I remember you."

Date: 2007-04-17 05:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, man. Just lovely. Making me bawl, but lovely nonetheless.

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-18 11:48 pm (UTC) - Expand

1. Jack and Mitchell

Date: 2007-04-17 04:14 am (UTC)
cofax7: climbing on an abbey wall  (Jack Change -- Nos')
From: [personal profile] cofax7
Jack and Cameron, "And Fortinbras, knee deep in Danes, lived happily ever after."

Someone perky and red-headed, maybe twelve years old, max, steers Jack into what she calls "The Green Room." It is, manifestly, not green.

It's also not empty. Inside, perched awkwardly on the artfully-arranged couches, is Colonel Cameron Mitchell.

Mitchell shoots to his feet. "Sir!"

Jack just gives him the eye. Can't take the flyboy out of some people. "Stand down, Mitchell. Did you miss the retired after my name?"

"Sorry, sir. They didn't tell me you'd be here." Mitchell looks exhausted, even with the makeup the gals in the other room had layered on them both. Jack had heard, even from Minnesota, of the epic battles in the Pentagon once the IOA went public with the program. Not that Jack has been in Minnesota much; he's been in Washington, Moscow, Tokyo, Beijing, London, Paris, Mexico City, Nairobi, Tel Aviv, Rome, and Moscow again in the last five weeks. So much for being retired.

"Me neither," says Jack, and drops down to a chair in a most unmilitary manner. "So," he says, after a long moment in which Mitchell stares at his clasped hands. "How's ... the team?"

Because Jack's a cold-blooded bastard sometimes, and his bed is empty, damnit.

Mitchell's eyes go a little glassy, and Jack can nearly hear the man's teeth grind before he answers. "Fine, sir. Jackson's knee-deep in Ancient translations from the Atlantis database," -- which Jack knows, because he gets email from Daniel with every databurst that ranges from sarcastic to gleeful to melancholy, but mostly triumphant that he got stationed to Atlantis before the program went public. "Vala's driving Colonel Sheppard mad, but the Athosians love her, and she's been surprisingly useful in working with off-planet populations. Teal'c--"

"I know about Teal'c," says Jack. Jack will never admit it, but he might miss Teal'c most of all, and not just because the guy's never been particularly chatty in email. "Terse" would be the word Jack would use to describe Teal'c's messages. The last report from Chulak was about two months ago; Teal'c is far too busy trying to reconstruct what little is left of the Jaffa Nation to worry about gossiping with the Tau'ri. Especially since it's the Tau'ri who pretty much caused the destruction of the Jaffa Nation.

Not that anyone on Earth outside the SGC seems to mind that.

Eyes flickering to the door, then his watch, Mitchell nods. He's not loving this; Jack understands completely.

"So how's Carter?" Because it's so much fun to pick at his own scabs.

Mitchell's blue gaze meets Jack's, and the man's lips compress, then stretch in an easy smile. "Just fine, General," he says, the Carolina accent broadening as he speaks. "Mom's got her settled in the guest room with her feet up and my nephews running errands. She's pissed as hell to be on bed rest, but the doc says she'll be fine, it's just a couple more weeks."

Jack's forced to admit the guy knows how to hit back. "So what are you doing here, then? Colonel?"

Mitchell's knuckles whiten around the coffee cup in his hands, but before he can nail Jack between the eyes with it--deservedly--the door to the room opens.

"Gentlemen!" chirps the redhead. "Sorry, I mean, Colonel, General--we're just two minutes from your segment, so I'm going to ask you to follow me out, okay? You'll wait in a hallway just offstage, and when Mr. Stewart announces you I'll bring you on, okay?"

Jack pushes himself to his feet, mouth going dry. This was not the same thing as testifying before Congress, or even briefing the UN Security Council. He could feel the blood draining to his stomach, and was grimly satisfied to see Mitchell looking kind of pale.

In the backstage hallway, they can hear Stewart nattering on about politics and aliens. In the poor light, Mitchell looks closer to green than white. Jack leans sideways a little. "Ori priors," he mutters. "Holographic dragons."

Mitchell blinks, and after a breath, grins. "Human-form Replicators," he replies. "Apophis and Hathor and Anubis."

"Lots and lots and lots of Jaffa," pronounces Jack, and then it's time, and they walk out into the glare.


No, I have no idea where that came from.

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

Date: 2007-04-17 05:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Looooooveeeee!!!! So, so much love!!

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-18 04:01 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-18 06:57 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

From: [personal profile] paian - Date: 2007-04-24 08:37 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-25 12:36 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: 1. Jack and Mitchell

From: [personal profile] bluemeridian - Date: 2007-05-11 11:03 am (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2007-04-17 05:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, god, I adore all of these. Goosebumps galore. You guys are amazing!!

I particularly loved the Jack/Mitchell one for some reason.

And Farscape fic just *bites* - that show still has so much power over me. Fic like this is almost painfully good.

Thea, this was a great idea. Wow. :sigh:

Date: 2007-04-17 05:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'm so glad you're enjoying them:) Feel free to jump on in and play along!!

Farscape, Aeryn & Prowler, adjusting the straps

Date: 2007-04-17 09:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable):Farscape, Aeryn & Prowler, adjusting the straps
Title: Volare
Author: Thea
LJ Name: [ profile] thassalia
Spoilers: Spoilers through Terra Firma


Date: 2007-04-18 06:08 am (UTC)
cofax7: climbing on an abbey wall  (Chris in the Morning -- Snacky)
From: [personal profile] cofax7

Supernatural/Northern Exposure: Chris and Sam and Dean: "You don't remember me, do you?"

It's late August; anywhere else it'd be steaming hot. But Alaska isn't anywhere else, and it's just warm enough to keep the windows open. Sam's got the radio going, and Dean tries not to groan when the music switches from Willie Nelson to some ethereal world music shit.

He didn't like Alaska the first time, about ten years ago, hunting a wood spirit Dad never managed to identify. They spent a lot of time being lost, Dean remembers; the roads back then were even worse than they are now. They camped for a while on a pond, near some guy who did that weird art out of pieces of old cars. The people were weird, even by Winchester standards, although there was one place that had awesome burgers.

"You hungry?" Sam asks.

Breakfast was two hundred miles and only one cup of bad coffee ago. "I could eat one of those damn moose," says Dean, and turns the page in the journal. A sign flickers by in the corner of his eye: some town coming up, good. They need gas, and salt, and ammo. It's Alaska: ammo won't be a problem.

"Mooses?" says Sam, ponderingly. "Or is it--no, can't be meese, that's just wrong."

Dean just stares at his brother for a moment. "Did that thing hit you on the head?"

"Nope, c'mon, I'm just--"

But Dean waves a hand for silence and grabs for the knob on the radio. The announcer was back on. "--and a fervent thank you to the two mysterious guys who cleaned the gumberoo out of Mary Ellen Vigland's goat pen. Anytime you're in town, she says, beer's on her. Speaking of gumberoos, traditionally, we're a bit outside their territory, since they were first reported in the Puget Sound area back in the 1890s--"

Dean grins. "Hey, Sammy, you hear that? We're local heroes! Sweet!"

"Gumberoo? Is that what it was? Really?"

Dean shrugs, and goes back to the journal.

Half an hour and two more moose-spotting incidents later, the road takes a turn and decants them out of the perpetual forest and into a village, all of three hundred yards of buildings, bounded at one end by a prissy-looking B&B and the other by a rusting gas station. Midway down the block is a red-brick building with a sign out front: The Brick. Dean points, but Sam's already steering the Impala into the one last spot in front of the bar.

It's a bar like dozens of other bars; sawdust on the floor, Pyramid signs in the window, waitress just trashy enough to get good tips. When Dean drops onto a stool at the bar, the guy wiping down the counter looks up and says, "Dean Winchester! I kinda figured that was you. This has gotta be Sam, then."

Dean freezes. Shit. "Do I know you?"

"Well, it's been a while--"

"Ten years, Chris," says the waitress snidely, and nudges him out of her way with her hip, on her way out of the kitchen with a tray full of burgers. She smiles widely at Dean and Sam, equally. "You boys sure grew up nice, though."

"Ten years," says the bartender, scratching at his head under the stupid bandana he's got holding his hair back. "Guess it has been. So how've you been? How's the hunting going? I heard about your dad, but -- well, I'm sorry."

Dean puts a hand up, and the bartender stops talking, looking inquiringly at him. Dean leans over to check behind the bar, turns around once slowly; nobody is looking at them. Sam's just sitting next to him with a baffled grin on his face.

"Beer," says Dean, finally. Once it's in his hand, he takes a long swallow: good, cold, American beer. He can feel the muscles in his back relaxing already. "Okay. Do me a favor, dude, okay? Tell me slowly. Who the fuck are you?"

Date: 2007-04-18 07:04 pm (UTC)
ext_2193: ([farscape] bad mamma jamma - aeryn sun)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt: Farscape; Aeryn Sun & Jack Crichton, post-PKW
Title: Back to Say Hello, Goodbye
Author: Shunda ([ profile] sugargroupie)
Spoilers: through PKW
Rating: G


They stood in the doorway of the Crichton home – arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace – and Aeryn was reluctant to interrupt such a reunion.

"Let me look at you," was said in a gruff voice as the father framed his son's face with both hands.

She stood to the side, nearly out of Jack Crichton's line of sight, and eyed the vaguely familiar neighborhood softly lit by porch lights from corner to corner. Aeryn remembered spending quite a bit of time here in Jack's home, his kindness a tangible thing she'd held with her long after they’d returned to space.

Their most recent visit remained clear in her mind, a localized hurt she had learned to live with like so many others. This visit, so soon after the previous one, was bittersweet, but entirely welcomed.

Aeryn was reminded of just how exposed they were to the neighbors' curious gazes by the dead weight of a sleeping boy in her arms, and she shifted her son a bit to alleviate some of her burden. Their vulnerable position was reaffirmed by her gaze getting caught in the headlights of a passing car.

Stepping forward, she ahemmed and smiled as Jack tore his gaze from John.

"Aeryn," Jack whispered as he blinked tears from his eyes.

"Hello, Jack," she replied, her words wrapped in grief and joy at his presence, at the realization of what they’ve done to see this man once more.

She met John's gaze briefly, comforted by the open expression on his face, and brushed her hand across her son’s dark hair. "This is D'Argo," she said quietly. "He’s five cycles."

"Almost six," John murmured, and she nodded at that. Had D'Argo been awake he would’ve gladly reminded her of the error.

"D'Argo..." Jack whispered again, as if not wanting to raise his voice further to wake the boy. But she could see it in Jack's eyes and the way he leaned in her direction, how much he wanted to frame D'Argo’s small face in his hands, to commit his features to memory in the same way he seemed to have done with John.

Perhaps he sensed how little time they actually had on Earth.

Jack slowly brought his hand to lie on top of Aeryn's. He pressed his lips to D'Argo's forehead, and Aeryn blinked back her own tears as Jack wrapped his arms around them both.

She wasn't sure what drove her to do it, but as Jack pulled away Aeryn reached out to touch his chin, glided her hand around to cup his cheek and held him there. She curved her palm along his lined jaw and smiled through the hurt. She and John had stood at Jack's grave the last time they were on Earth; had come to introduce D'Argo to his grandfather and found Jack Crichton etched into smooth stone instead.

"How 'bout we move this on inside," John suggested from over his father's shoulder.

Aeryn gave Jack's hand a gentle squeeze as he ushered them further into the house. She had no regrets of agreeing to John's idea of using a wormhole to go back in time (...but after we left Earth last, baby, I promise) – to give her son a chance to say hello and allow she and John the opportunity to say goodbye.

Jack's eyes hardly left D'Argo, and when they did it was to settle on John and Aeryn, full of questions about their son's namesake; softening, she realized, once he made the connection and released them from having to say it aloud.

"So, D'Argo Crichton?"

"Sun Crichton," Aeryn interjected. John chuffed with laughter beside her because that was an error she was quick to correct.

Jack smiled. "D'Argo Sun Crichton," he amended. "It's a good, strong name."

So is the name Jack, she thought. D'Argo shifted in her arms again and she hoped he was waking up. His grandfather was eager to meet him.

Date: 2007-04-18 07:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, that's utterly fabulous.

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From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-19 04:59 pm (UTC) - Expand
From: [identity profile]
Fandom: SG-1, post-S10. No real spoilers though.
Title: This Is The Way to Grandmother's House
Author: Thea
Prompt: Cam & Vala, Fancy meeting you here.
Rating: G

This Is The Way to Grandmother's House

Date: 2007-04-18 08:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable): Stargate SG1; Sam &/ Vala, We've got to save the world. Again.
Title: that our feet may leave, but not our hearts
Author: Six Before Lunch
LJ Name: [ profile] 6beforelunch
Rating: K/PG
Spoilers: Just general season 10 cast.

that our feet may leave, but not our hearts (

Aeryn, The Choice and the brown velvet dress.

Date: 2007-04-19 12:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt: Aeryn, The Choice and the brown velvet dress.
Title: Something Old, Something New
Author: annaK
LJ Name: [ profile] annakarrennina
Rating: G
Spoilers: Through PK Wars.


She freezes in the doorway, time seeming to skip as she takes in what’s in front of her, feels the breath catch in her lungs. She didn’t know she’d kept it, thought it had been left behind with the tears and the ghosts, swapped for clarity and the gun at her side. But John’s sitting on the bed, fingers soft on the material like it’s something precious, something beautiful. Like it’s not the mourning robes she wore to die. She can’t imagine where he found it, but it has no place in this room where her son sleeps in the corner, where her husband looks up at her and smiles.

John’s expression is questioning, open, and she wants to scream, run away, grounds herself instead, fingers brushing against her weapon.

“Didn’t think this was your style,” he says, bright eyed and teasing. She can’t look away from the dress, feels giddy, unsteady, and he sees, always sees, wonders at her silence. “Babe?”

“It’s not.” The words sound wrong, choked, and she can’t believe she’s near tears at the sight of something she wore a lifetime ago, something so unimportant. Wonders if this is John’s doing, if his attachment to inanimate objects has rubbed off on her like so many of his human quirks. Wonders that here, now, some memories still sting like pulse fire.

He puts the dress to the side, moves towards her, touches her cheek and she lets herself close her eyes, soaks in his presence, the tangibility of his touch. “It’s not,” she repeats, ignoring his hesitant confusion, pulling him to her and breathing him in, revelling in the solidity of his love.

She holds onto her husband and feels the slide of leather against her skin. Thinks this is who I am.
cofax7: climbing on an abbey wall  (Default)
From: [personal profile] cofax7
Oh, lovely and sad.

Date: 2007-04-19 07:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'm not sure if this gets where I was originally going, but here it is anyway.

Farscape: John and Alex, At Stanford, "I saw you on the news."

John had just stepped outside of the Student Union when he sees her. He thinks it’s a trick of the light, just the hair and maybe the shape of her hips as she walks, but then she turns and does a double take. Stops. John’s escort does a stutter stop around him, looking back and forth uselessly. It only takes John a moment to recover, shaking loose the vision of another blond he loved and lost, a moment for a grin to crack across his face.


“John?” Alex still has the wet fish look, but blinks rapidly and then takes a delighted step forward. “Oh my God, John. It’s you. I saw you on the news and I heard you were coming, but I thought it was tomorrow.”

“Talk’s tomorrow. Memorial Auditorium.” They do the awkward over-under hug thing and if Alex notices that he doesn’t linger, she doesn’t let on.

“I got tickets.” Alex steps back, and waves a hand toward the ticket office next to the cafeteria, all smiles. She looks good. Still beautiful, hair pulled back, jacket zipped up to ward of the bite in the air. It’s December and John’s still wrapping his head around the fact that Northern California gets downright cold. He wasn’t expecting that. Hell, he’s wasn’t expecting the fact that he accepted the invitation to come and speak here in the first place.

“It’s Stanford. If any kids are shaping the future, it’s those kids,” he told his Dad.

But maybe the real reason is standing right in front of him. The ache is still there, lit by her presence but gentled by time and overshadowed by a greater wound. He and Alex were good together once. Real good.

“Buy you a cup of coffee, Mr. Astronaut?” Alex’s tilts her head, her smile softening with the old words, and John can’t help but breathe a bit easier for them.

“I’d love one.”

Peet’s is just a few steps away. Alex still remembers how he used to take his coffee and John doesn’t tell her that now it’s cream, no sugar. They settle outside in the sun among the fading lunch crowd, almost all of whom take a moment to stare as subtly as possible, which apparently isn’t much, but no one bothers them.

“So John,” Alex says when he takes his first sip. Her eyes meet his and suddenly the fact that his chair’s attached to the table seems very important. “It’s been what, eight years?” she asks as though they are two exes who just bumped into each other. As if he hasn’t spent the last four cycles off the planet. John doesn’t know whether to be grateful or insulted, but when she adds, “What have you been up to?” with that old knowing look in her eye, he laughs.

Date: 2007-04-19 04:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, that's very nice. I was so hoping someone would take up that prompt when I saw it!!!

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-04-19 08:17 pm (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2007-04-19 08:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom: Supernatural, Sam and Dean and Missouri.
Prompt: After it was over, the two remaining Winchesters straggled inside, arms over each other's shoulders, knuckles bloodied and dirt-caked.
Title: Don't Turn Me From Your Door
Author: Lynda
LJ Name: [ profile] pdxscaper
Rating [if NC-17]: G
Spoilers: Up through S2x02, Everybody Loves a Clown

Don't Turn Me From Your Door
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable): SG-1, Cameron/Teal'c, Everybody likes to go their own way--to choose their own time and manner of devotion.
Author: Isabelle
LJ Name: [ profile] pellucid
Rating: G
Spoilers: nothing specific

The night is damp, and the cold seeps up from the ground. Cameron can't really feel his legs anymore, but he dare not move. He'll wait one more hour.

He's on full alert, waiting and listening expectantly, but he still doesn't hear anyone approach till the hand clamps over his mouth. He feels breath against his neck, deliciously warm on his clammy skin, and he almost relaxes.

"Follow me." He feels the words more than he hears them, a breathy whisper and lips brushing across the shell of his ear. Cam shudders.

Cam follows the silent shadow for about two klicks through the fog and across the rocky terrain of Chulak. They arrive in a densely wooded valley, and Teal'c stops, turns, clasps Cam's forearm.

"It is good to see you, Cameron Mitchell," he says, voice low and thick.

Cam tugs on Teal'c's arm, pulling the other man in, holding tight to his solid, familiar body, the heavy wool of Teal'c's robe scratching his cheek as he reins in his emotions. "Don't speak too soon," he whispers. "You haven't heard what I came to say."

Teal'c pulls back out of the embrace, his hands resting on Cameron's shoulders. It's too dark for Cam to make out more than the shape of Teal'c's body and the faint glint of his tattoo. "Perhaps I will not like the news you bring, but it is still good to see you."

Cameron takes a deep breath. "The Wraith found the Milky Way. Hive ships are on the way. All hell's about to break loose. I wanted y'all to know."

Teal'c's grip tightens on his shoulders. "You know the Jaffa are no longer willing to assist the Tau'ri. I do not believe I could sway the council on this point."

"I know. I'm not asking for the Jaffa's help," Cam answers. "I just wanted to give y'all a heads up." He pauses, searching the shadow, trying to discern the features of the other man's face. "I wanted you to know. Man, I'm so sorry. There's—there's a lot of them. We might not win this one."

"But we will fight," Teal'c replies. "The Tau'ri will fight, and the Jaffa will fight, and even separately, we will endeavor to overcome this enemy, as we have overcome others equally formidable."

"Come back with me," Cam whispers before he can help himself, his hand finding Teal'c's neck, the side of his face.

"You know I cannot. The International Oversight Advisory has made its opinion quite clear, as has the Jaffa council. And I am needed here, just as you are needed at Stargate Command."

"I know." Cam pulls him close again and holds on tight

"Daylight comes soon," Teal'c's lips move against his neck. "You must not be seen here."

They return together as far as the clearing before the stargate, and in the moonlight Cameron can see him for the first time. He feels tears pricking hot in his eyes as he memorizes Teal'c's face once again.

"I'll see you later," he chokes.

Teal'c nods. "Indeed."

Date: 2007-04-20 07:25 pm (UTC)
ext_2207: (SG1 - Sam in pieces)
From: [identity profile]
Fandom and Prompt (if applicable): Stargate Sg-1 Sam and Daniel; Thanks, Robert Frost
Title: the selves we had to be
Author: [ profile] abyssinia4077
Rating (if NC-17): PG
Spoilers: season 9 and 10 villian

the selves we had to be (

Date: 2007-04-20 08:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
aw crap, now I'm inspired and writing the BSG one. I hate you!

Date: 2007-04-20 09:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Dude, I'm so very, very pleased!!! Can't wait to read it:)

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Date: 2007-04-23 03:58 am (UTC)
ariestess: (sassy 4 -- from appelezmoi_coco)
From: [personal profile] ariestess
Fandom: CSI
Title: Overtures
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
LJ Name: [ profile] ariestess
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: End of season 5/beginning of season 6

** Note :: This ended up being longer than I'd expected, so I've just got a link to it over in my journal. **

Date: 2007-04-23 06:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
fandom: Battlestar Galactica
prompt: Six and Roslin ~ History & [ profile] femslash100's #108 ~ earth (remainder)
title: with what tenderness / the folded silence
author: julie levin russo
LJ: [ profile] projectjulie
rating: T for Tame
spoilers: "Lay Down Your Burdens" and "Crossroads"
pairing: Roslin, Caprica, Starbuck
words: 125 + 125

how weightlessly it gathers them...


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