leave_me_light

Title: Your Vigil
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1582
A/N: It's been a while, and parts of this have been sitting in my computer a while as well. Wanted to try writing something in second person. Here's how it came out.


_________

 

( She's asleep on your shoulder... )

From anuna_81 . the 25 first songs on shuffle from my iPod. These are from my 300 strong active walking down the street playlist, though, not the whole 8GB Nano.

So, these days I am biding my time at home, letting time heal wounds and all that and, well, I have a bit of time in my hands. And I got to thinking about that fic request anuna_81 had the other day. And, even though she asked for it, I really had no intention to write John and Elizabeth in an established relationship, only then the story started coming to me and... Well, it is what it is.

This is for you, anuna_81 . Hope it's something close to what you wanted.


( Somebody Has To... )
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So, the IV system came out of my hand today. And I am well enough to be able to think straight again. And to read stuff (the fact that even though you have all this time to lie about in bed you are not able to read anything because your brain just doesn't work beyond 'ow, that hurts' is a nasty surprise. I have my brain back now). And, they're saying that I will probably be home by the end of the week.

So, to celebrate all that, a drabble for you. I have managed to read most of the Fix-It Fics that you all have written and enjoyed them immensely. Understandably they have all been to the angsty side of things. To balance that out, this drabble is absolute UST fluff. Don't judge...

( Something My Mom Used to... )

Just a quick note to let you know of my status (given that you even remember who I am, of course...).

Still in hospital. Spiked a fever last week which remained a mystery for a few days, then it turned out that I have some nasty bacteria still in me from when the appendix burst (that one went as badly as it can -- it burst while I was still at home, but it had been infected for a while so whatever burst in there spread out a bunch of really bad stuff all over my stomach cavity. They caught most of it, but apparently not all.) So I was shipped back to the ICU a week ago, given some new killer antibiotics and now we're all keeping our fingers crossed. They say that all the indicators are showing good improvement, but I'm still not quite rid of the fever.

To say that I want to go home is an understatement. Mornings are especially bad, with another long day ahead. My mother, the pillar of my support, has dark circles around her eyes.

On the plus side, I have probably lost like 10 kilos of weight. And with the bikini season approaching...

So, if for some reason it seemed to you that I  had gone awfully quiet all of the sudden, it's because I had.

( Keeping it short )

So, there's a week I'd prefer never to repeat in my life ever again...

Title: "This Is the Last Goodbye"
Characters: John, Rodney, Elizabeth in the background
Rating: PG
Word count: 2458
A/N: A drabble that got out of hand. For anuna_81 's Shep-a-thon.
To the prompt of "The vastness of space"

 

( They're leaving... )
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In light of the mishap a few days ago, was trying to get myself into drabble mode. It's tough. I'm way too into the wordy inner monologues. But I think I almost made it this time.

Though, admittedly, it's still somewhat cheating, considering that this is from the previously established (and shamefully abandoned) ABR-verse. On the plus side, it's fluff the likes of which this journal hasn't seen for ages :)

( Here comes the sun... )

 

Heh, was going to write a drabble, something short and simple for a change. Ended up having a 2500 word stream of consciousness, and it doesn't look that simple anymore, either.

Now wondering if it even qualifies for the drabble-a-ton thingie... Funny thing is, it might actually have qualified for the fixit challenge which I explicitly (and with great regrets) didn't join because the only s4s5 ep I have seen is Outcast, of which I already wrote, and that one was bad enough to put me off watching any others any time soon...

Title: The Shape of My Heart
Pairing: Teyla/Carson
Rating: PG
Word count: 4534
A/N: Written for the "We'll Always Have Pegasus" challenge over at lostcityfound . My prompt was 'Teyla/Carson -- in the silences'. A belated birthday greeting to anuna_81 , who was curious as to what I might do with this prompt.

 

( The Shape of My Heart )

Title: For the Living
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3381
A/N: Written for lady_xan in the sparky_santa challenge. A rewrite of the SGA episode 4.15, Outcast, with Elizabeth there to support John.

 

( For the Living )

On my way home from work tonight...

So, by now the blizzard that I landed in on Friday seems like a tiny gust of breeze compared to what has been going on out there for the whole day. I'm pretty sure that this is the biggest snowstorm I have ever lived through. The whole town is basically like Wild West only perfectly white, there is zero visibility and all the roads are like a swamp of snow. The boats, planes and, I am pretty sure, most other forms of public transport, have stopped operating. I had to go to work today, interpreting two lectures in a theater in the Old Town and I seriously contemplated whether calling in to tell them that I couldn't find my way out of my front yard would be a legitimate reason not to go.

In the end I did make it to work, though the railroad crossing right next to my home has gone berserk, keeping the barrier down, the red lights flashing and the bell ringing all day long and we almost off-roaded on a regular 90 degree turn (though we were driving an SUV in the city center). Coming back was even more fun, though, as this was 5 hours later which meant 5 hours more snow. The railroad crossing was still broken, cars were abandoned willy-nilly all across the roadside and at some point, when the car died again, we met two guys who seemed to be trying to set the Guinness record for "Most cars pushed out of waist-high piles of snow" -- they had just got one going right next to us and were making their way towards ours, whether we wanted it or not.

My own 50 meter drivein and whole front yard is covered in knee-high snow so there's even no place to shovel it. Good luck to anyone in this house who wants to get to work tomorrow morning.

The whole country is a wonderful apocalyptic mess -- see pictures.

So there you have it -- the past four weeks of my life (though it is, of course, not so straightforward; but I guess it never really is):

Fall in Tallinn (Estonia):



( and then in... )

No wonder it felt more like winter up here by the time I got back...

I realized today that the London and Paris subways (Underground and Metro, respectively) look remarkably similar.

As to the depths of my realization -- well, apparently, that's what you get for doing three capitals in as many days. Waiting for the Place d'Italie bound 5 train in Paris Gare du Nord today afternoon, I caught myself being somewhat unsure which country I was in. The Oxford Circus and King's Cross stations I was at in the morning seemed to look pretty much the same.

By now (almost midnight) I have made it to Strasbourg (it tells me that the two are about 650km apart) with the aid of my friends Eurostar and TGVEst (that the French would call their very fast trains "Very Fast Train" says quite a lot about the French, IMO) and will be staying put till Friday. Which is certainly welcome, even if it does mean actually doing some work...

Title: Expanded Drinking Games: The How, the Where and the Why (plus some more answered and even more unanswered questions)

Word count: about 3000, though it gets tricky, even for Office, to count them in the end there.

Everything else (aka Author's Note Deluxe): Where to start? Characters? It's almost entirely "The Rodney and Ronon Show", but obviously this fic is not really *about* them (never was). Rating? I don't know, where do inebriated people suffering from a rather mild case of verbal diarrhea fit in that system?

( A bit more explaining and then on to the fic... )

You know, the general trend of scrapping the themed intros is really making me sad. I do get that now that the commercials are taking up more and more space in the hour allotted for the standard format drama (not so much over here, but if I were an American watching these shows live, I'm pretty sure I'd lose my mind over all these "commercial" interruptions), there is the added pressure to find more time in that hour for the story, but if the theme is spot on, it really has a way of setting the correct mood and concentration to what is to come.

( Click for ample evidence that I have too much time in my hands... )

After a weekend of this:



( and... )

This has turned out to be the most sought after epilogue (A bit of a mystery to me, if you ask, but then again, so was the choice of my stories that some incredibly nice people submitted to the swawards...) As a show of good faith, I found a way to oblige.

Comes with a nauseating fluff warning. Enter at own risk.

 

( The good student a.k.a. The added view (to a secret) )

I picked up watching it again. Was on a crazy roll working my way through the box set in June, but then kind of overdosed, I guess. Started itching for it again lately, took it up again tonight and am just in awe again.

You know, all the beefs I have with SGA? Farscape sails through them with flying ease. The ironic thing is that even though only one character in the whole show is human, every character has more human consistency than all but the ones suffering from grave neglect in SGA (and here I, of course, mostly mean Elizabeth). Storylines are carried through, emotions are raw, shit happens (I believe that was one of the arguments for killing off characters in SGA -- that in real life, shit happens) and when those guys mourn, they do so with blind helpless rage. And besides everything, it's such an exhilarating imaginative hallucinogenic trip...

Chrichton is crazy and tender and weak and strong and smart and Ben Browder has it down to a nuance -- everything from the emotional to the mental fragility of man. He's so troubled and torn himself, but his love for Aeryn takes your breath away, every time. Damn you, SG1 for completely underusing him. And Aeryn is all sharp edges and soft interior and a child and a woman and a lover and a soldier all at once and it makes sense, it's human. I never could make out whether Vala was a tough bitch or an airheaded flake and I suspect that was mostly because the writers themselves couldn't make up their minds. But Claudia Black just vibrates with this barely controlled energy if you give her the chance...

So I wondered, for a second, why it is that I am not writing Farscape fic and immediately came to the conclusion that I simply lack the impetus -- I have no idea how I could do it deeper or better or different than they had...