Fic: Drabbles (SG:A, Due South, Harry Potter)
So I (finally) finished the three icon-drabbles. Wow, I fail at speediness. But still, here they are!
I wrote an Stargate: Atlantis ramble for rhymester:
The Weight of Water
Atlantis is huge, an ever-widening gyre, an endless labyrinth of water-soaked hallways and darkened machines that burn with the appropriate laying on of hands. If you wander the less populated parts, you can go for hours, days, without seeing another person. They’ve lost too many people that way.
Mostly, the size is deceptive, and too much time is spent treading on toes and brushing elbows, metaphorical and otherwise. Over the time they’ve spent there, the team all have systems, tricks to maintain the illusion of space.
Teyla meditates, spending hours alone in the quiet hush of candle flicker and slow breathing. The deliberateness required feels like the tide’s ebb, which helps.
Ronon trains, defeating punching bags and overconfident Marines with equal regularity. He enjoys the rhythm of it, a one-two step of thinking and unthinking that measures time along with the beat of his heart.
John runs, trading the quick twist of a smile for the rapid tap of sneakers against Atlantis’ corridors. He’s in too good of shape to really feel the burn of over-worked muscles but he tries for it anyway, the exchange into energy that’s as close to flying as he gets outside of a jumper.
Rodney, when the walls seem too close and even these lengthened days too shrot, writes mathematical formulae, redrawing numbers from the early calculus equations he grew up on to a derivative form of energy that he’s translated into Ancient with a side of Greek. The balance, that comfort of a known omega helps his brain quiet and slow, a silence better than sleep, than any Ancient tech yet discovered.
The community in Atlantis is huge, yet there’s a pattern to it, a rhythm (one-two) and a pulse (flicker) of motion (like flying), the sine wave twist of water curling against an alien shore.
And a Due South vague Fraser/Kowalski for winkingstar:
Heaven is a Place on Earth
Eventually, Ray found out that there's this park near his apartment, and sometimes after a long day at the precinct when he can't think anymore and when he closes his eyes he sees too much stuff that give him the shivers,
--kids crouched in corners with old eyes, not needing to ask if their mommy was okay, the spatter of blood caught on brick walls after a drug deal gone terribly wrong, and womenkidsmen who just can't stop sobbing--
he has to walk, which definitely means he's been hanging out with Fraser to much, because Ray Kowalski? Spending time in a park? By choice? Weird.
He would have thought that him needing a park or just some space every once in a while was weird, but the day he showed up there and Fraser was sitting on the bench? Even more weird.
"Hey, Frase." Ray drops onto the bench next to him, and whatever happy glow that starts in his chest and moves out must be because it's his bench, and because of course Fraser would find him here, Fraser was a freak.
"Ray," Fraser says, and then they both just look out at the park, which for once doesn't have dealers or druggies or gang kids hanging around but is just quiet, the hush of almost after-sunset where the ground sort of fuzzes into the trees and the clouds.
"Funny how it all... mashes together, huh?" Ray says, and realizes that he's not just talking about the park and the trees and all that shit, but that it's like life has all mixed, muddled into the shiver he got after hearing gunshots and how similar it was to the twitch when Fraser stepped in too close.
Fraser moves, sounds like he swallows--and that Ray is listening that closely is kind of weird, which is really kind of normal for them, all on its own-- and says, "You know, Ray, my father once told me that the sky isn't just above you, that if you look at the horizon you'll see that it actually touches the ground. So if you think about it, wherever you go, you are actually walking in the sky."
"You think?" Ray says quietly, feeling the faint breeze that actually smells clean here, the way the sun colors the clouds, clouds so big that it looks like you could reach out and touch them.
Ray grins, the smile forming like he can't quite help it.
"You're a freak."
Huff of air, and Ray knows Fraser is laughing, that he gets it.
"Understood."
Also, a Harry Potter snippet for alemara:
Hanging by a Moment
After is best, when it's just them, and the slight drag of breath across skin, the burn of muscles and blood cooling to a rhythm that she can't help but want to stretch, to keep forever. Lily wishes she knew the magic in it, the power that could do that, erase the past and the present and keep the now, so long as it was just the affection in James' eyes and the way his hair kicked up in the back but curled along the back of his neck with sweat.
"All right?" he asks. He always said that, like it wouldn't be, like there could be something better than here, now, in his arms, the closeness that Lily sometimes thinks only they have made perfect.
"Love you," she replies, the usual answer, because James smiles, and kisses her, and tugs her closer into his arms to await morning, real morning, when there would be no more after, but thoughts of the day, of the war, of danger and orders and missions....
...but after is still now, so Lily kisses James back, closes her eyes, slides into sleep.
Enjoy! If you gave me comments, I would heart it lots. And now I have to go pack more. Eep.
I wrote an Stargate: Atlantis ramble for rhymester:
The Weight of Water
Atlantis is huge, an ever-widening gyre, an endless labyrinth of water-soaked hallways and darkened machines that burn with the appropriate laying on of hands. If you wander the less populated parts, you can go for hours, days, without seeing another person. They’ve lost too many people that way.
Mostly, the size is deceptive, and too much time is spent treading on toes and brushing elbows, metaphorical and otherwise. Over the time they’ve spent there, the team all have systems, tricks to maintain the illusion of space.
Teyla meditates, spending hours alone in the quiet hush of candle flicker and slow breathing. The deliberateness required feels like the tide’s ebb, which helps.
Ronon trains, defeating punching bags and overconfident Marines with equal regularity. He enjoys the rhythm of it, a one-two step of thinking and unthinking that measures time along with the beat of his heart.
John runs, trading the quick twist of a smile for the rapid tap of sneakers against Atlantis’ corridors. He’s in too good of shape to really feel the burn of over-worked muscles but he tries for it anyway, the exchange into energy that’s as close to flying as he gets outside of a jumper.
Rodney, when the walls seem too close and even these lengthened days too shrot, writes mathematical formulae, redrawing numbers from the early calculus equations he grew up on to a derivative form of energy that he’s translated into Ancient with a side of Greek. The balance, that comfort of a known omega helps his brain quiet and slow, a silence better than sleep, than any Ancient tech yet discovered.
The community in Atlantis is huge, yet there’s a pattern to it, a rhythm (one-two) and a pulse (flicker) of motion (like flying), the sine wave twist of water curling against an alien shore.
And a Due South vague Fraser/Kowalski for winkingstar:
Heaven is a Place on Earth
Eventually, Ray found out that there's this park near his apartment, and sometimes after a long day at the precinct when he can't think anymore and when he closes his eyes he sees too much stuff that give him the shivers,
--kids crouched in corners with old eyes, not needing to ask if their mommy was okay, the spatter of blood caught on brick walls after a drug deal gone terribly wrong, and womenkidsmen who just can't stop sobbing--
he has to walk, which definitely means he's been hanging out with Fraser to much, because Ray Kowalski? Spending time in a park? By choice? Weird.
He would have thought that him needing a park or just some space every once in a while was weird, but the day he showed up there and Fraser was sitting on the bench? Even more weird.
"Hey, Frase." Ray drops onto the bench next to him, and whatever happy glow that starts in his chest and moves out must be because it's his bench, and because of course Fraser would find him here, Fraser was a freak.
"Ray," Fraser says, and then they both just look out at the park, which for once doesn't have dealers or druggies or gang kids hanging around but is just quiet, the hush of almost after-sunset where the ground sort of fuzzes into the trees and the clouds.
"Funny how it all... mashes together, huh?" Ray says, and realizes that he's not just talking about the park and the trees and all that shit, but that it's like life has all mixed, muddled into the shiver he got after hearing gunshots and how similar it was to the twitch when Fraser stepped in too close.
Fraser moves, sounds like he swallows--and that Ray is listening that closely is kind of weird, which is really kind of normal for them, all on its own-- and says, "You know, Ray, my father once told me that the sky isn't just above you, that if you look at the horizon you'll see that it actually touches the ground. So if you think about it, wherever you go, you are actually walking in the sky."
"You think?" Ray says quietly, feeling the faint breeze that actually smells clean here, the way the sun colors the clouds, clouds so big that it looks like you could reach out and touch them.
Ray grins, the smile forming like he can't quite help it.
"You're a freak."
Huff of air, and Ray knows Fraser is laughing, that he gets it.
"Understood."
Also, a Harry Potter snippet for alemara:
Hanging by a Moment
After is best, when it's just them, and the slight drag of breath across skin, the burn of muscles and blood cooling to a rhythm that she can't help but want to stretch, to keep forever. Lily wishes she knew the magic in it, the power that could do that, erase the past and the present and keep the now, so long as it was just the affection in James' eyes and the way his hair kicked up in the back but curled along the back of his neck with sweat.
"All right?" he asks. He always said that, like it wouldn't be, like there could be something better than here, now, in his arms, the closeness that Lily sometimes thinks only they have made perfect.
"Love you," she replies, the usual answer, because James smiles, and kisses her, and tugs her closer into his arms to await morning, real morning, when there would be no more after, but thoughts of the day, of the war, of danger and orders and missions....
...but after is still now, so Lily kisses James back, closes her eyes, slides into sleep.
Enjoy! If you gave me comments, I would heart it lots. And now I have to go pack more. Eep.