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No, I didn't forget them. Iconficlets.
The following contain pretty much everything from general audience, to non-porny femslash, to het shippiness. They also contain spoilers for: Reboot season three, newBSG season two (through Scar), Lantis season two, Coupling season three, Black Widow: The Things They Say About Her, and general thingies for Firefly, SG-1 and X-Factor. Most, if not all, took their inspiration from the icons: either describing exactly, using the flavor of the moment, whatever.
Pairings: Dot/Mouse, Kara/Anders, Sam/Jack, Liz/John, Everyone/angst.
1.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kurakami 
Cold. Cold, wet. She knew these words, the way they twisted and turned. Sharp edges cutting into floors, into brains into skin--
Simplicity, in words, little letters scrolling across the page.
Pictures, first. Pictures and then chicken scratch and then alphabets. And now words.
Words hold meaning, words hurt. Words kill.
Words kill. Guns just make it simpler.
The cold made her bones ache. Cold from outside, from space. She remembers laughing. Floating and staring forever into nothing, and laughing at the stars.
Simon didn't laugh back.
Her hands are slippery. Wet, she thinks again. Wet with things she doesn't want to remember.
Sticky, soon. Dried to tackiness, and they won't let her wash her hands (the condemned ate a very good meal). When they come for her--and they will come. They have to come. It's only fair if they come for her, and see her for what she's done.
What she can do.
Will do, has done, never did, won't do. No control in destiny, no control in life, no control of her brain.
Sliced control out and in and under.
Don't. Please, he said. River, he said.
But he never laughed.
-f-
2.kellifer_fic
Move, she said. So he did, following her. Almost over-taking her, but Ronon was getting good at matching his stride to Teyla's. Keeping her back safe, letting her keep his front safe. It's not something he was used to. Sheppard was constantly telling him that teamwork saved the day, and he needed to learn it. So he was learning it.
Gunfire sent them both into cover and he watched as she considered, then gestured.
Ronon slipped away, angling to come out to the right and behind their assailants. Knowing she'd be ready the second he needed her.
Later, Sheppard would probably not even notice the good teamwork.
There. Moving even more silently, he crept up on the two. Raising his blaster, he fired, one shot taking out both before they'd even noticed his approach.
Movement to the right made him turn, blaster still raised reflexively.
Teyla's stunner-blast was swifter.
Damn.
-
When he woke, he heard Sheppard cursing softly. Opening one eye, he found Teyla perched on a stone, cleaning her weapon. "Not bad."
"You are all easily led." Teyla replied, then stood. "I suggest we head back to camp, Dr. Weir will be expecting us in the morning."
"Yeah," Sheppard sounded cranky, "And this training exercise is over."
"Teyla won."
"Whatever."
She moved away from them, shouldering her weapon, and Ronon watched. Yeah, he'd keep watching her back while she watched their front. She'd earned the right, after all.
-f-
3.karma_aster 
It gets harder and harder to drag himself out of bed in the morning. Jack is so not blaming his age, though. Instead, he blames things like paperwork and meetings. It's Washington, after all, and there are endless, pointless, awful meetings.
The worst is when it's winter, and the entire capital hunkers down and just sits around tables in rooms, talking about nothing.
Jack finds it easier to forget to set his alarm.
Besides, it means he can snuggle down under his covers with a warm and cuddly blonde. Not that he'd tell her that.
-f-
4.elly427 
"I wanted s'mores."
Daniel was being whiny again. To be fair, Sam figured he had a right to whine. His wife was off taken over by a goa'uld and stuck as the wife of an evil dictator, his glasses had gotten broken, he was covered in dried mud, and he'd gotten a concussion. That still didn't mean she was ready to let him.
"I didn't bring any in my c-rations," she informed him.
He hmphed in that Daniel way of his, and looked disgruntled.
Rolling her eyes again, Sam glanced sideways at Teal'c, trying to discern if the jaffa was amused or not at the antics of his human teammates. He was... stoic.
"Will this not suffice, Daniel Jackson?" Holding out his hand, Teal'c gifted Daniel with a hershey bar.
Sam narrowed her eyes. It looked suspiciously familiar.
"Hey, T, you got anymore of those?"
Of course the Colonel would try to get some of the action. Deciding that she was too dignified to beg her alien companion for chocolate--even if it would make this miserable, muddy, rainy planet at least somewhat better--Sam huddled even further into her rain slicker. Not that it helped.
"I am sincerely apologetic, O'Neill, as I have given the last to Captain Carter."
He what? Sam blinked, "Teal'c--"
The chocolate bar landed in her lap. "I believe the cafeteria staff believe I enjoy chocolate more than I actually do."
Oh. Sam grabbed the bar before it slid off--or the Colonel could appropriate it. "Thank you, Teal'c."
"Teal'c, buddy--"
Sam sighed, breaking the bar in half and holding out one half, "Here, sir." If she didn't, he was never going to shut up about it.
"Thank you, Captain. You know, I could order you--" He broke off as she leveled her best I Know How To Kill You And Hide The Body glare at him, and changed his wording hastily, "--to take the first watch."
"Fine. Sir." She bit into the candy. First watch wouldn't be too horrible. Not having candy would.
-f-
5.nakedtoes
Sam Carter took down her first vampire at age sixteen.
-
They say when a Slayer dies, another is called. Sam Carter's died so many times since the Stargate Program took her on, she sometimes wonders if ten or twelve have been called in her stead.
-
Her father never understood the late nights, the dedication to her studies nor the sheer exhaustion. Having your mother die before you can tell her you're the one girl in all the world kind of makes it difficult to connect. She got into more fist-fights in high school than her brother. The principal told her it was a record.
She never cared.
-
Pretending to be weaker than she really was sometimes got too hard. Sam hoped no one noticed when she'd do things like lift rocks too heavy for a woman her size, or kill a jaffa with her pinky.
-
The first time SG-1 encounters a vampire off-world, Sam kills it without thinking.
Five hours of explanation, recrimination, and Daniel saying things about modern myths, and Sam wishes she'd let it kill the civilian.
Not that it matters. One vampire is like one cockroach: where there's one, there's ten thousand others hiding in the walls, waiting for the chance to eat the nearest innocent human.
-
What follows is a bloodbath of galactic proportions. A holy war raging across a galaxy that isn't ready for it, doesn't want it, and might not survive it.
Sam sometimes thinks it's far cleaner than the goa'uld.
-f-
6.cosmic 
"What am I looking at?" Not that Steve really wants to know. After all, it's Jeff who's showing him. And, well, it's Jeff. That's like a guarantee that it will be something odd, strange, or completely mind-destroying.
The last time he had his brain fried, Susan didn't speak to him for a week.
Not that he could blame her.
So, when Jeff started to explain, Steve raised a hand, "Is this going to remind me of the giggle-loop?"
"Well, no, but--"
"The Woman With Two Breasts?"
Jeff grinned, distracted. "That would be lovely."
"Yes. Wouldn't it."
"No, Steve, you've got to--" Jeff stopped again, "What about a woman with three breasts? One for morning, one for evening, and one for afters?" He giggled.
"That's a man, Jeff." Oh, God. He'd actually come up with logic. Maybe it would be time to retreat. Go back to porn. Something with bottoms. Bouncing-- "Baby bottoms?"
"What?"
"Never mind." Wishing he could make his mobile ring, Steve scanned the pub, desperate for Patrick, or even Jane.
What he got was Jeff's magazine dropped in his lap. "I'm going for a drink."
Great. Gingerly picking it up, he started to move it to the table. And then stopped. Horrified.
Some day, someone was going to kill Jeff.
It might even be Steve.
-f
7.dragonelf_2002 
Swish.
Kurt ducked, coming up to kick out at the second opponent while the first tried to correct for his suddenly missing hit.
The third took the opportunity to dart forward, sword swinging, only to be met with a tail wrapping around his wrist, pulling him off-course into the fourth.
Fifth and sixth were just as handily dealt with, and then another dazzling display of fencing finished off seventh, eighth and ninth. Tenth and eleventh gutted each other and the twelfth, well, the twelfth found himself sneezing, then tossed off the ship.
Then it was done, the breeze blowing sweetly with a salty tang. Kurt leaned against the hard wood of the rail and smirked. Never try to take on a swashbuckling pirate of the high seas.
8.hoperomantic 
Elizabeth notices them when she shouldn't. At completely inappropriate times--briefings, meetings, emergencies when John's standing just close enough to touch. Notices them and thinks things she shouldn't. Her mind dredges up images of skin on skin and lips, and most of all, hands on skin. His hands. On her skin. Catching and pulling and stroking until she's sweating beneath or above or beside him.
It's why she keeps her hands folded neatly, or holding a pen. Because otherwise, she might do something she shouldn't.
-f-
9.fallenbelle 
Bang.
Bang.
Two more bangs, and she tipped the gun down, popped the clip out, dropped it and shoved another in.
Bang.
Bang.
Ba--
"Carter!"
--ng.
"Sir." No bang, this time. She remained perfectly still.
"Nice shootin', Tex."
Sam glanced at the colonel. "Sir. Was there something you wanted?"
"Well, no, I--"
"Then if you'd let me get back to my target practice, sir?"
"All right."
Bang.
Bang.
-f-
10.centerspire 
The world is completely and utterly silent.
As if it stopped to draw breath for an instant, then froze. Kara thinks it's because she's about to kiss Sam Anders. Or maybe because it's about to end again (though, it ended with a bang, last time--standing on the tarmac, staring in horror at flames and debris).
She doesn't want it to. And she doesn't want it to start up again.
Silence is safe. Staring up at him, watching his eyes watch her as if he's waiting just like the world is, is also safe.
From here, she can pull away, walk away and never look back.
But the sweat drying on her skin says otherwise. The fingers splayed at her back, two of them grazing skin do, too.
The world starts when she shifts, going up on tip-toes to kiss him. Sound comes back, the wind whistles, the ground makes shifty, crackly noises when their boots move.
It doesn't disappear.
-f-
11.katcorvi 
"It's red."
"I can see that, Jack."
"No, Daniel, it's really red."
"Yes, Sam, I know."
"Carnelian red, even."
"Sam--"
"Or blood red."
"Jack--"
"I think blood is a slightly deeper hue, sir."
"Hue, schmue. I say it's blood red."
"Yes, well, if you two are--"
"Carnelian. It's very bright, see how it's edging towards orange?"
"Carter, that's your sunglasses."
"I'm not wearing mine, sir."
"--hello?"
"Anyway, Daniel agrees with me. Right, Daniel?"
"It's red."
"Yes, Daniel, we've established that. But it's blood red, right?"
"I refuse to answer that on the grounds that neither of you are right. It's just red."
"But, Daniel--"
"NO. Now both of you go away so I can finish in peace."
-f-
12.greycoupon 
"Who the frak does she think she is?"
Kat was on a tear again. Hot Dog pulled the gloves on and resolutely wondered when she wasn't on a tear.
"Frakkin' Starbuck frakkin'--"
"You gonna put on your gloves?"
Grabbing them, she growled out more epithets, her movements jerky and uneven.
The gym was deserted at this hour of the night. Most were asleep, or on CAP. Some few might be secreted in small closets, enjoying each others' company. And Kat, well, Kat needed to blow off steam in an entirely different way before she took someone's head off during the day.
And Hot Dog, who'd suffered through flight-training with her, made a willing partner.
It wasn't that he liked getting his ass kicked. But, at least if she was kicking him, she wasn't getting shoved out an airlock by a finally pissed-off Starbuck.
"C'mon--" She swung at him.
He'd been waiting, and ducked.
Several more feints and passes, and then she got down and dirty, trying to knock him over or around, driving him from one corner of the mat to the other until they were both coated in sweat, and her curses had worn down.
Finally, she stopped, panting. "Frakkin'. Starbuck. Thinks she's so frakkin' perfect. Always gotta be the best an' get the last word."
Brendan studied her for a moment before stepping off the mat and beginning to divest himself of the gloves. It wasn't his place to argue with Kat. But he didn't really think she was right.
"Readin' off a list of the dead like it's her lifeline to some gods-forsakin'--"
"Hey." He tossed a glove at her. "Give it a rest, Louanne. We got CAP in the morning, and I don't need you falling asleep."
"I don't fall asleep in the cockpit, Constanza. That's Starbuck's job, 'member?" Gloves on her hips, she snorted. "That and gettin' outta my way so a real shooter can take out Cylons."
Rolling his eyes, he tossed the other glove at the bin. "Go to bed, Katraine."
After all, everyone knew Starbuck'd been the one to set Scar up for Kat. Delivered like the best present a girl could give, all neatly-wrapped. Hell. Few of the nuggets figured any of them could have taken the Cylon raider with Starbuck setting it up.
But Hot Dog's already gotten his ass kicked once. He didn't plan on pissing Kat off again.
Not tonight, at least.
-f-
13.familyarchives 
There might have been horror in Elizabeth's expression, but only if you knew what to look for. Teyla, standing next to her, definitely knew. Her own expression mirrored Elizabeth's, right down to the not-quite-serenity.
"Mud," Elizabeth finally said.
"Apparently, it's a bonding ritual that the Erdi have never before felt the need to impose upon us."
Translation: the men are gullible, and like getting dirty.
Elizabeth sighed. "Tell them we have a de-briefing in five hours. Then come to my office. I've got mint tea to go brew."
An excellent plan. Teyla smirked, "I believe Dr. Beckett will be interested in the mud. Perhaps, as a biological contaminant."
"I'll make that suggestion." While she was making the tea. Elizabeth eyed the floor of the gate room and didn't sigh. That would, in the end, be pointless. "I'll have some of the biology team down here to decide whether they need more samples of the mud."
"And I," Teyla replied, moving towards the stairs, "Shall pass on your message."
Yes. Mint tea. With some lemon, and maybe those little biscuits Colonel Carter added to the pile of 'emergency supplies'.
-f-
14.timjr 
"Hey."
Cally ignored the voice from the bars. It was just another gawker, another visitor come to see the woman who shot a Cylon. And not just any Cylon. Sharon Valerii, everyone's favorite rookie raptor pilot.
"Hey."
It occurred to her that being stuck in a cell was kind of like being a Cylon. Pointless. She wondered if dental school would have been this fraught with loyalties.
"Cally. I know why you did it." The voice wasn't conspiratorial. the speaker just sounded tired. "It's the same reason you went with him, on Kobol. The same reason he couldn't let Crash--" The voice stops as if understanding that it might just be going too far.
But Cally recognized it now. And she turned over to watch Seelix. Without the blood and dirt of the woods of Kobol covering her face, she was attractive. Cally noticed it in passing. "You don't know anything."
"I saw your face, I saw you react to Jammer." Seelix's hand wrapped around one of the bars. "I know, Jane." Jane. Cally hated her first name. It made her feel mundane, pointless, useless. The girl people walked on, the girl who cried over nothing. Jane wasn't Cally.
Seelix looked at her, "You love him. You think you know what's best for him."
"You don't know shit."
"Don't I?"
Before Cally could react, Seelix stepped back. "I should go."
"Wait." Cally moved to the bars and looked at Seelix. "You're not gonna tell him, are you?"
Seelix reached her hand through and combed her fingers through Cally's hair, "Maybe."
"Please. He already thinks I'm a frakkin' idiot."
The hand in her hair tightened and tugged her closer to the bars. Seelix closed the distance and kissed her, lips brushing gently against Cally's. "All right."
"Promise," Cally mumbled, surprised at the touch.
Seelix kissed her again, nipping at Cally's lower lip. "I promise."
-f-
15.beverly_mcintyr 
Really. This was not the time to be thinking about something like this.
Tied up, with her back against Commander Riker's, while their captors ran around preparing an attack was just not the time to be thinking about whether to get that purple silk dress. Really, Beverly chastised herself as the commander tried to get himself free for the tenth time, she should be considering things like escape plans.
"Dr. Crusher."
"What?"
The commander grunted, "It would be helpful if you would--"
Beverly yanked her hand free, and eyed the people milling about, who hadn't seemed to notice their wriggling. "Commander, I suggest you remain silent until I've worked out how to use this to our advantage."
Plus, that would keep her from asking him if he thought purple looked good on her. Asking Guinan would be pointless, she mused as she worked the rest of the ropes loose, all the while watching their captors. Guinan adored purple.
"Hey!" One of the men noticed she was freed. He dropped what he was doing and started towards them.
Beverly waited until he was nearly in front of her, then grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them. Not normally effective, but this man wasn't particularly intelligent. If he'd grabbed the phaser still clipped to his belt (which Bev did during the moment he was cursing and batting wildly about), he would have had the advantage.
Instead, she shot him, and then most of the rest of them while the commander took his irritation out on them in a slightly less civilized fashion.
"Are we done here?" She asked eventually.
Will looked up from the kidnaper he was tying up, "Use a comlink and contact the ship."
"Yessir." And once back there, she'd get a nice hot shower, and then, maybe, look at dresses. Purple ones.
-f-
16.kali921 
There's no point in getting drunk when you've already done it a hundred times. Or more. Sometimes, he forgets. But he makes it a point to do the deed himself. Tip the bottle back, allow the liquid to slide into his mouth, swallow.
Jamie can feel the burn all the way down to his stomach, and memory echoes it half a trillion times.
If asked, he'd state categorically (and for the record) that he is not an alcoholic, but he is. One chance in ten billion to catch what he means.
He remembers watching a documentary, once. He was cruising a college campus and crushing hard on a blonde girl who took physics and astronomy. One of her classes was covering addictions, and he sat in the back and watched her take notes as the video played. People acting drunk and stupid, falling over each other (it looked like a student production).
Not that he was actually there.
But the memory swirls to the surface (anyway), and he feels a nostalgia for the geeky boy he was, the girl he flirted with (she'd blushed and then told him, still smiling, she'd punch him if he called her 'Samantha' again). She's probably married with ten children, or stuck in some ivory tower, her life's work the music of the stars.
It occurs to him that his life is defined by the people around him--not by who he is. And maybe that's right, because he's never exactly sure who he is.
He could be a painter, a maintenance man, an entertainer, a dry-cleaner, a comedian. Anything. And nothing fits just right. No glove for his hand.
"Angst is a bit pointless, you know."
But it's something to do while he drinks. He shrugs his shoulders, watches the familiar gesture roll off the other's shoulders as well.
"C'mon. Time to go back in the bottle." He's smiling like he just cracked the best joke ever.
It makes Jamie's teeth grind, but he goes anyway.
After all, there's nothing else for him to do. And being whole is worth more than being a drunk in a ditch.
"Damn right it is," Jamie murmurs, reaching out for the bottle that got left behind. He tips it, eyeing the liquid as it sloshes, then sets it back down. "Not tonight, I think. Tonight, it's time for wrestling!"
-f-
17.llorelai 
Really, she wasn't supposed to be amused. Or happy. Not about a comment like that. But, then, Sam kind of couldn't help it. Sure, Jack O'Neill was an asshole, but he was being an asshole on her behalf. Kind of. On the behalf of all the women on the base?
Also, kind of.
It was highly possible that Jack had just been an ass for the fun of it. She really wouldn't put it past him.
Still, it gave her a sense of smugness to know that Colonel Jack O'Neill thought that the women of the SGC were better than every other woman on the planet. Even if he hadn't quite put it in those terms.
18.alryssa 
She's not supposed to stay. Mouse had that modus operandi down pat. Love 'em, leave 'em, take off before they can start to get used to you bein' there.
Not supposed to get stuck in the middle of a war.
Should've told the Guardians to shove their assignment where the sun didn't shine--even if it did get her outta hack. Not that she couldn't'a got out herself. Eventually.
And when things were startin' to go bad, she should have grabbed the nearest portal to the web and high-tailed it.
What'd she done instead? Stayed. Helped. Got herself appointed one of the most trusted people involved in the war. Second in command. Frightening thought.
She wasn't used to trust. Wasn't used to knowing someone needed her.
Soothing a hand through the hair of the sprite curled next to her, she wondered if she'd ever get used to it. Also wondered if Dot ever got a good rest, or if even her dreams were full of planning. They were certainly full of guilt and recriminations.
"My fault..." Dot mumbled, as if on cue.
Swallowing against the sudden urge to runhideforget, Mouse shifted closer. "Shhh. Shh, honey."
"My fault."
"No." Wrapping her arms around Dot, she turned her face into the other sprite's neck. "Not your fault."
If it was anyone's, it was Bob's.
-f-
19.stacyx 
As cells go, it ain't half bad. He's got water, a toilet, and a place to sleep. For Nick Fury, it's almost the Palace Hotel in Madripor.
Shifting on the pallet, the half-healed bruises pull, but he doesn't bother wincing. After a while, you get used to this sort of pain. 'Sides, it was for a good cause. The smirk that covers his lips would be more pleasant without the splits and cracks.
Could have been a worse cause, of course. Something to do with protecting oil rights, or some crap like that.
Fury'd had more than enough of the fluffy kind of reasons. The ones backed by multi-billionaires who didn't give a crap about who they stepped on.
No, this'd been better.
Standing up for a friend. For the freedom to say the world isn't right.
Not that he really believes in all that truth, justice and freedom crap. But he knows people who do, and he knows how to make it work for him.
Just the way he knows that he's not gonna be in his cell much longer.
He might've caused an international incident and protected someone on America's Most Wanted list, but he's got his own friends in high places.
And they know Bridge sucks at running SHIELD without him.
Still. He could just escape and go get drunk and steal a country or two.
Something small, maybe.
-f-
20.skellingtonjon 
The music was loud, though not exactly raccous. Saul Tigh found himself unable to not twitch at least a foot.
"Ooooh, boy, I just know that something good is gonna happen..."
A blonde in a barely-there hot pink dress sashayed by, and tripped. Later, Saul would wonder if it was all of the fake gold braid one of his mates had tacked on his uniform that caught her heel.
"Hey, you ok?"
Big blue eyes met his, and a shy little smile that was belied by the look in her eyes touched her lips. "I'm better now."
Not the smoothest come-on, but she was tipsy, and the music was itching under her skin along with too many shots of ambrosia. Ellen, she told him her name when they danced too close, wasn't a light-weight, but she liked to have fun.
When she whooped at the top of her lungs and let him dip her, he thought he'd found the perfect woman.
21.rowan_d 
It's one thing to see the end of the world, and know you're going to die along with it.
It's quite another to have missed it all and to stand on barren earth, and no, that had you been there, it would still be lush and green. Grass as far as the eye could see until broken by fences, houses, roads. Now there's nothing but grey for miles.
The dust Teal'c kicks up as he walks back to her coats the back of her throat and she tries not to cough.
"Colonel Carter, I suggest we find cover."
"Yes." Mechanically, she turns from the images and looks back at the empty gates of the SGC. "Teal'c, we're going to have to leave Earth." A laugh cracks out into the air, and she shoves the bubbling hysteria down. "Hell, the air we're breathing is probably full of radiation."
"Perhaps."
They move back to the gates, their steps echoing as they get closer to the long tunnel into the darkness. Sam wonders if the journey down will be harder than the journey out was.
-f-
eta: To cut down length, all icons should now be inside cuttags
Pairings: Dot/Mouse, Kara/Anders, Sam/Jack, Liz/John, Everyone/angst.
1.
kurakami Cold. Cold, wet. She knew these words, the way they twisted and turned. Sharp edges cutting into floors, into brains into skin--
Simplicity, in words, little letters scrolling across the page.
Pictures, first. Pictures and then chicken scratch and then alphabets. And now words.
Words hold meaning, words hurt. Words kill.
Words kill. Guns just make it simpler.
The cold made her bones ache. Cold from outside, from space. She remembers laughing. Floating and staring forever into nothing, and laughing at the stars.
Simon didn't laugh back.
Her hands are slippery. Wet, she thinks again. Wet with things she doesn't want to remember.
Sticky, soon. Dried to tackiness, and they won't let her wash her hands (the condemned ate a very good meal). When they come for her--and they will come. They have to come. It's only fair if they come for her, and see her for what she's done.
What she can do.
Will do, has done, never did, won't do. No control in destiny, no control in life, no control of her brain.
Sliced control out and in and under.
Don't. Please, he said. River, he said.
But he never laughed.
-f-
2.
kellifer_fic Move, she said. So he did, following her. Almost over-taking her, but Ronon was getting good at matching his stride to Teyla's. Keeping her back safe, letting her keep his front safe. It's not something he was used to. Sheppard was constantly telling him that teamwork saved the day, and he needed to learn it. So he was learning it.
Gunfire sent them both into cover and he watched as she considered, then gestured.
Ronon slipped away, angling to come out to the right and behind their assailants. Knowing she'd be ready the second he needed her.
Later, Sheppard would probably not even notice the good teamwork.
There. Moving even more silently, he crept up on the two. Raising his blaster, he fired, one shot taking out both before they'd even noticed his approach.
Movement to the right made him turn, blaster still raised reflexively.
Teyla's stunner-blast was swifter.
Damn.
-
When he woke, he heard Sheppard cursing softly. Opening one eye, he found Teyla perched on a stone, cleaning her weapon. "Not bad."
"You are all easily led." Teyla replied, then stood. "I suggest we head back to camp, Dr. Weir will be expecting us in the morning."
"Yeah," Sheppard sounded cranky, "And this training exercise is over."
"Teyla won."
"Whatever."
She moved away from them, shouldering her weapon, and Ronon watched. Yeah, he'd keep watching her back while she watched their front. She'd earned the right, after all.
-f-
3.
karma_aster It gets harder and harder to drag himself out of bed in the morning. Jack is so not blaming his age, though. Instead, he blames things like paperwork and meetings. It's Washington, after all, and there are endless, pointless, awful meetings.
The worst is when it's winter, and the entire capital hunkers down and just sits around tables in rooms, talking about nothing.
Jack finds it easier to forget to set his alarm.
Besides, it means he can snuggle down under his covers with a warm and cuddly blonde. Not that he'd tell her that.
-f-
4.
elly427 "I wanted s'mores."
Daniel was being whiny again. To be fair, Sam figured he had a right to whine. His wife was off taken over by a goa'uld and stuck as the wife of an evil dictator, his glasses had gotten broken, he was covered in dried mud, and he'd gotten a concussion. That still didn't mean she was ready to let him.
"I didn't bring any in my c-rations," she informed him.
He hmphed in that Daniel way of his, and looked disgruntled.
Rolling her eyes again, Sam glanced sideways at Teal'c, trying to discern if the jaffa was amused or not at the antics of his human teammates. He was... stoic.
"Will this not suffice, Daniel Jackson?" Holding out his hand, Teal'c gifted Daniel with a hershey bar.
Sam narrowed her eyes. It looked suspiciously familiar.
"Hey, T, you got anymore of those?"
Of course the Colonel would try to get some of the action. Deciding that she was too dignified to beg her alien companion for chocolate--even if it would make this miserable, muddy, rainy planet at least somewhat better--Sam huddled even further into her rain slicker. Not that it helped.
"I am sincerely apologetic, O'Neill, as I have given the last to Captain Carter."
He what? Sam blinked, "Teal'c--"
The chocolate bar landed in her lap. "I believe the cafeteria staff believe I enjoy chocolate more than I actually do."
Oh. Sam grabbed the bar before it slid off--or the Colonel could appropriate it. "Thank you, Teal'c."
"Teal'c, buddy--"
Sam sighed, breaking the bar in half and holding out one half, "Here, sir." If she didn't, he was never going to shut up about it.
"Thank you, Captain. You know, I could order you--" He broke off as she leveled her best I Know How To Kill You And Hide The Body glare at him, and changed his wording hastily, "--to take the first watch."
"Fine. Sir." She bit into the candy. First watch wouldn't be too horrible. Not having candy would.
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5.
nakedtoesSam Carter took down her first vampire at age sixteen.
-
They say when a Slayer dies, another is called. Sam Carter's died so many times since the Stargate Program took her on, she sometimes wonders if ten or twelve have been called in her stead.
-
Her father never understood the late nights, the dedication to her studies nor the sheer exhaustion. Having your mother die before you can tell her you're the one girl in all the world kind of makes it difficult to connect. She got into more fist-fights in high school than her brother. The principal told her it was a record.
She never cared.
-
Pretending to be weaker than she really was sometimes got too hard. Sam hoped no one noticed when she'd do things like lift rocks too heavy for a woman her size, or kill a jaffa with her pinky.
-
The first time SG-1 encounters a vampire off-world, Sam kills it without thinking.
Five hours of explanation, recrimination, and Daniel saying things about modern myths, and Sam wishes she'd let it kill the civilian.
Not that it matters. One vampire is like one cockroach: where there's one, there's ten thousand others hiding in the walls, waiting for the chance to eat the nearest innocent human.
-
What follows is a bloodbath of galactic proportions. A holy war raging across a galaxy that isn't ready for it, doesn't want it, and might not survive it.
Sam sometimes thinks it's far cleaner than the goa'uld.
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6.
cosmic "What am I looking at?" Not that Steve really wants to know. After all, it's Jeff who's showing him. And, well, it's Jeff. That's like a guarantee that it will be something odd, strange, or completely mind-destroying.
The last time he had his brain fried, Susan didn't speak to him for a week.
Not that he could blame her.
So, when Jeff started to explain, Steve raised a hand, "Is this going to remind me of the giggle-loop?"
"Well, no, but--"
"The Woman With Two Breasts?"
Jeff grinned, distracted. "That would be lovely."
"Yes. Wouldn't it."
"No, Steve, you've got to--" Jeff stopped again, "What about a woman with three breasts? One for morning, one for evening, and one for afters?" He giggled.
"That's a man, Jeff." Oh, God. He'd actually come up with logic. Maybe it would be time to retreat. Go back to porn. Something with bottoms. Bouncing-- "Baby bottoms?"
"What?"
"Never mind." Wishing he could make his mobile ring, Steve scanned the pub, desperate for Patrick, or even Jane.
What he got was Jeff's magazine dropped in his lap. "I'm going for a drink."
Great. Gingerly picking it up, he started to move it to the table. And then stopped. Horrified.
Some day, someone was going to kill Jeff.
It might even be Steve.
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7.
dragonelf_2002 Swish.
Kurt ducked, coming up to kick out at the second opponent while the first tried to correct for his suddenly missing hit.
The third took the opportunity to dart forward, sword swinging, only to be met with a tail wrapping around his wrist, pulling him off-course into the fourth.
Fifth and sixth were just as handily dealt with, and then another dazzling display of fencing finished off seventh, eighth and ninth. Tenth and eleventh gutted each other and the twelfth, well, the twelfth found himself sneezing, then tossed off the ship.
Then it was done, the breeze blowing sweetly with a salty tang. Kurt leaned against the hard wood of the rail and smirked. Never try to take on a swashbuckling pirate of the high seas.
8.
hoperomantic Elizabeth notices them when she shouldn't. At completely inappropriate times--briefings, meetings, emergencies when John's standing just close enough to touch. Notices them and thinks things she shouldn't. Her mind dredges up images of skin on skin and lips, and most of all, hands on skin. His hands. On her skin. Catching and pulling and stroking until she's sweating beneath or above or beside him.
It's why she keeps her hands folded neatly, or holding a pen. Because otherwise, she might do something she shouldn't.
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9.
fallenbelle Bang.
Bang.
Two more bangs, and she tipped the gun down, popped the clip out, dropped it and shoved another in.
Bang.
Bang.
Ba--
"Carter!"
--ng.
"Sir." No bang, this time. She remained perfectly still.
"Nice shootin', Tex."
Sam glanced at the colonel. "Sir. Was there something you wanted?"
"Well, no, I--"
"Then if you'd let me get back to my target practice, sir?"
"All right."
Bang.
Bang.
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10.
centerspire The world is completely and utterly silent.
As if it stopped to draw breath for an instant, then froze. Kara thinks it's because she's about to kiss Sam Anders. Or maybe because it's about to end again (though, it ended with a bang, last time--standing on the tarmac, staring in horror at flames and debris).
She doesn't want it to. And she doesn't want it to start up again.
Silence is safe. Staring up at him, watching his eyes watch her as if he's waiting just like the world is, is also safe.
From here, she can pull away, walk away and never look back.
But the sweat drying on her skin says otherwise. The fingers splayed at her back, two of them grazing skin do, too.
The world starts when she shifts, going up on tip-toes to kiss him. Sound comes back, the wind whistles, the ground makes shifty, crackly noises when their boots move.
It doesn't disappear.
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11.
katcorvi "It's red."
"I can see that, Jack."
"No, Daniel, it's really red."
"Yes, Sam, I know."
"Carnelian red, even."
"Sam--"
"Or blood red."
"Jack--"
"I think blood is a slightly deeper hue, sir."
"Hue, schmue. I say it's blood red."
"Yes, well, if you two are--"
"Carnelian. It's very bright, see how it's edging towards orange?"
"Carter, that's your sunglasses."
"I'm not wearing mine, sir."
"--hello?"
"Anyway, Daniel agrees with me. Right, Daniel?"
"It's red."
"Yes, Daniel, we've established that. But it's blood red, right?"
"I refuse to answer that on the grounds that neither of you are right. It's just red."
"But, Daniel--"
"NO. Now both of you go away so I can finish in peace."
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12.
greycoupon "Who the frak does she think she is?"
Kat was on a tear again. Hot Dog pulled the gloves on and resolutely wondered when she wasn't on a tear.
"Frakkin' Starbuck frakkin'--"
"You gonna put on your gloves?"
Grabbing them, she growled out more epithets, her movements jerky and uneven.
The gym was deserted at this hour of the night. Most were asleep, or on CAP. Some few might be secreted in small closets, enjoying each others' company. And Kat, well, Kat needed to blow off steam in an entirely different way before she took someone's head off during the day.
And Hot Dog, who'd suffered through flight-training with her, made a willing partner.
It wasn't that he liked getting his ass kicked. But, at least if she was kicking him, she wasn't getting shoved out an airlock by a finally pissed-off Starbuck.
"C'mon--" She swung at him.
He'd been waiting, and ducked.
Several more feints and passes, and then she got down and dirty, trying to knock him over or around, driving him from one corner of the mat to the other until they were both coated in sweat, and her curses had worn down.
Finally, she stopped, panting. "Frakkin'. Starbuck. Thinks she's so frakkin' perfect. Always gotta be the best an' get the last word."
Brendan studied her for a moment before stepping off the mat and beginning to divest himself of the gloves. It wasn't his place to argue with Kat. But he didn't really think she was right.
"Readin' off a list of the dead like it's her lifeline to some gods-forsakin'--"
"Hey." He tossed a glove at her. "Give it a rest, Louanne. We got CAP in the morning, and I don't need you falling asleep."
"I don't fall asleep in the cockpit, Constanza. That's Starbuck's job, 'member?" Gloves on her hips, she snorted. "That and gettin' outta my way so a real shooter can take out Cylons."
Rolling his eyes, he tossed the other glove at the bin. "Go to bed, Katraine."
After all, everyone knew Starbuck'd been the one to set Scar up for Kat. Delivered like the best present a girl could give, all neatly-wrapped. Hell. Few of the nuggets figured any of them could have taken the Cylon raider with Starbuck setting it up.
But Hot Dog's already gotten his ass kicked once. He didn't plan on pissing Kat off again.
Not tonight, at least.
-f-
13.
familyarchives There might have been horror in Elizabeth's expression, but only if you knew what to look for. Teyla, standing next to her, definitely knew. Her own expression mirrored Elizabeth's, right down to the not-quite-serenity.
"Mud," Elizabeth finally said.
"Apparently, it's a bonding ritual that the Erdi have never before felt the need to impose upon us."
Translation: the men are gullible, and like getting dirty.
Elizabeth sighed. "Tell them we have a de-briefing in five hours. Then come to my office. I've got mint tea to go brew."
An excellent plan. Teyla smirked, "I believe Dr. Beckett will be interested in the mud. Perhaps, as a biological contaminant."
"I'll make that suggestion." While she was making the tea. Elizabeth eyed the floor of the gate room and didn't sigh. That would, in the end, be pointless. "I'll have some of the biology team down here to decide whether they need more samples of the mud."
"And I," Teyla replied, moving towards the stairs, "Shall pass on your message."
Yes. Mint tea. With some lemon, and maybe those little biscuits Colonel Carter added to the pile of 'emergency supplies'.
-f-
14.
timjr "Hey."
Cally ignored the voice from the bars. It was just another gawker, another visitor come to see the woman who shot a Cylon. And not just any Cylon. Sharon Valerii, everyone's favorite rookie raptor pilot.
"Hey."
It occurred to her that being stuck in a cell was kind of like being a Cylon. Pointless. She wondered if dental school would have been this fraught with loyalties.
"Cally. I know why you did it." The voice wasn't conspiratorial. the speaker just sounded tired. "It's the same reason you went with him, on Kobol. The same reason he couldn't let Crash--" The voice stops as if understanding that it might just be going too far.
But Cally recognized it now. And she turned over to watch Seelix. Without the blood and dirt of the woods of Kobol covering her face, she was attractive. Cally noticed it in passing. "You don't know anything."
"I saw your face, I saw you react to Jammer." Seelix's hand wrapped around one of the bars. "I know, Jane." Jane. Cally hated her first name. It made her feel mundane, pointless, useless. The girl people walked on, the girl who cried over nothing. Jane wasn't Cally.
Seelix looked at her, "You love him. You think you know what's best for him."
"You don't know shit."
"Don't I?"
Before Cally could react, Seelix stepped back. "I should go."
"Wait." Cally moved to the bars and looked at Seelix. "You're not gonna tell him, are you?"
Seelix reached her hand through and combed her fingers through Cally's hair, "Maybe."
"Please. He already thinks I'm a frakkin' idiot."
The hand in her hair tightened and tugged her closer to the bars. Seelix closed the distance and kissed her, lips brushing gently against Cally's. "All right."
"Promise," Cally mumbled, surprised at the touch.
Seelix kissed her again, nipping at Cally's lower lip. "I promise."
-f-
15.
beverly_mcintyr Really. This was not the time to be thinking about something like this.
Tied up, with her back against Commander Riker's, while their captors ran around preparing an attack was just not the time to be thinking about whether to get that purple silk dress. Really, Beverly chastised herself as the commander tried to get himself free for the tenth time, she should be considering things like escape plans.
"Dr. Crusher."
"What?"
The commander grunted, "It would be helpful if you would--"
Beverly yanked her hand free, and eyed the people milling about, who hadn't seemed to notice their wriggling. "Commander, I suggest you remain silent until I've worked out how to use this to our advantage."
Plus, that would keep her from asking him if he thought purple looked good on her. Asking Guinan would be pointless, she mused as she worked the rest of the ropes loose, all the while watching their captors. Guinan adored purple.
"Hey!" One of the men noticed she was freed. He dropped what he was doing and started towards them.
Beverly waited until he was nearly in front of her, then grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them. Not normally effective, but this man wasn't particularly intelligent. If he'd grabbed the phaser still clipped to his belt (which Bev did during the moment he was cursing and batting wildly about), he would have had the advantage.
Instead, she shot him, and then most of the rest of them while the commander took his irritation out on them in a slightly less civilized fashion.
"Are we done here?" She asked eventually.
Will looked up from the kidnaper he was tying up, "Use a comlink and contact the ship."
"Yessir." And once back there, she'd get a nice hot shower, and then, maybe, look at dresses. Purple ones.
-f-
16.
kali921 There's no point in getting drunk when you've already done it a hundred times. Or more. Sometimes, he forgets. But he makes it a point to do the deed himself. Tip the bottle back, allow the liquid to slide into his mouth, swallow.
Jamie can feel the burn all the way down to his stomach, and memory echoes it half a trillion times.
If asked, he'd state categorically (and for the record) that he is not an alcoholic, but he is. One chance in ten billion to catch what he means.
He remembers watching a documentary, once. He was cruising a college campus and crushing hard on a blonde girl who took physics and astronomy. One of her classes was covering addictions, and he sat in the back and watched her take notes as the video played. People acting drunk and stupid, falling over each other (it looked like a student production).
Not that he was actually there.
But the memory swirls to the surface (anyway), and he feels a nostalgia for the geeky boy he was, the girl he flirted with (she'd blushed and then told him, still smiling, she'd punch him if he called her 'Samantha' again). She's probably married with ten children, or stuck in some ivory tower, her life's work the music of the stars.
It occurs to him that his life is defined by the people around him--not by who he is. And maybe that's right, because he's never exactly sure who he is.
He could be a painter, a maintenance man, an entertainer, a dry-cleaner, a comedian. Anything. And nothing fits just right. No glove for his hand.
"Angst is a bit pointless, you know."
But it's something to do while he drinks. He shrugs his shoulders, watches the familiar gesture roll off the other's shoulders as well.
"C'mon. Time to go back in the bottle." He's smiling like he just cracked the best joke ever.
It makes Jamie's teeth grind, but he goes anyway.
After all, there's nothing else for him to do. And being whole is worth more than being a drunk in a ditch.
"Damn right it is," Jamie murmurs, reaching out for the bottle that got left behind. He tips it, eyeing the liquid as it sloshes, then sets it back down. "Not tonight, I think. Tonight, it's time for wrestling!"
-f-
17.
llorelai Really, she wasn't supposed to be amused. Or happy. Not about a comment like that. But, then, Sam kind of couldn't help it. Sure, Jack O'Neill was an asshole, but he was being an asshole on her behalf. Kind of. On the behalf of all the women on the base?
Also, kind of.
It was highly possible that Jack had just been an ass for the fun of it. She really wouldn't put it past him.
Still, it gave her a sense of smugness to know that Colonel Jack O'Neill thought that the women of the SGC were better than every other woman on the planet. Even if he hadn't quite put it in those terms.
18.
alryssa She's not supposed to stay. Mouse had that modus operandi down pat. Love 'em, leave 'em, take off before they can start to get used to you bein' there.
Not supposed to get stuck in the middle of a war.
Should've told the Guardians to shove their assignment where the sun didn't shine--even if it did get her outta hack. Not that she couldn't'a got out herself. Eventually.
And when things were startin' to go bad, she should have grabbed the nearest portal to the web and high-tailed it.
What'd she done instead? Stayed. Helped. Got herself appointed one of the most trusted people involved in the war. Second in command. Frightening thought.
She wasn't used to trust. Wasn't used to knowing someone needed her.
Soothing a hand through the hair of the sprite curled next to her, she wondered if she'd ever get used to it. Also wondered if Dot ever got a good rest, or if even her dreams were full of planning. They were certainly full of guilt and recriminations.
"My fault..." Dot mumbled, as if on cue.
Swallowing against the sudden urge to runhideforget, Mouse shifted closer. "Shhh. Shh, honey."
"My fault."
"No." Wrapping her arms around Dot, she turned her face into the other sprite's neck. "Not your fault."
If it was anyone's, it was Bob's.
-f-
19.
stacyx As cells go, it ain't half bad. He's got water, a toilet, and a place to sleep. For Nick Fury, it's almost the Palace Hotel in Madripor.
Shifting on the pallet, the half-healed bruises pull, but he doesn't bother wincing. After a while, you get used to this sort of pain. 'Sides, it was for a good cause. The smirk that covers his lips would be more pleasant without the splits and cracks.
Could have been a worse cause, of course. Something to do with protecting oil rights, or some crap like that.
Fury'd had more than enough of the fluffy kind of reasons. The ones backed by multi-billionaires who didn't give a crap about who they stepped on.
No, this'd been better.
Standing up for a friend. For the freedom to say the world isn't right.
Not that he really believes in all that truth, justice and freedom crap. But he knows people who do, and he knows how to make it work for him.
Just the way he knows that he's not gonna be in his cell much longer.
He might've caused an international incident and protected someone on America's Most Wanted list, but he's got his own friends in high places.
And they know Bridge sucks at running SHIELD without him.
Still. He could just escape and go get drunk and steal a country or two.
Something small, maybe.
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20.
skellingtonjon The music was loud, though not exactly raccous. Saul Tigh found himself unable to not twitch at least a foot.
"Ooooh, boy, I just know that something good is gonna happen..."
A blonde in a barely-there hot pink dress sashayed by, and tripped. Later, Saul would wonder if it was all of the fake gold braid one of his mates had tacked on his uniform that caught her heel.
"Hey, you ok?"
Big blue eyes met his, and a shy little smile that was belied by the look in her eyes touched her lips. "I'm better now."
Not the smoothest come-on, but she was tipsy, and the music was itching under her skin along with too many shots of ambrosia. Ellen, she told him her name when they danced too close, wasn't a light-weight, but she liked to have fun.
When she whooped at the top of her lungs and let him dip her, he thought he'd found the perfect woman.
21.
rowan_d It's one thing to see the end of the world, and know you're going to die along with it.
It's quite another to have missed it all and to stand on barren earth, and no, that had you been there, it would still be lush and green. Grass as far as the eye could see until broken by fences, houses, roads. Now there's nothing but grey for miles.
The dust Teal'c kicks up as he walks back to her coats the back of her throat and she tries not to cough.
"Colonel Carter, I suggest we find cover."
"Yes." Mechanically, she turns from the images and looks back at the empty gates of the SGC. "Teal'c, we're going to have to leave Earth." A laugh cracks out into the air, and she shoves the bubbling hysteria down. "Hell, the air we're breathing is probably full of radiation."
"Perhaps."
They move back to the gates, their steps echoing as they get closer to the long tunnel into the darkness. Sam wonders if the journey down will be harder than the journey out was.
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eta: To cut down length, all icons should now be inside cuttags