Odds and ends

[icepixie]

Look at this gorgeous ten-day forecast. I think I'm going to wear a skirt to work on Wednesday or Thursday. (Okay, that might be pushing it somewhat for outside, but the office is always really warm, so I think it'll work out for me.)

It can be springtimez nao? Maybe? It's already been in the 60s since Friday!

*

I read a book the other day I thought I'd recommend: As She Climbed Across the Table, by Jonathan Lethem. If Nick Hornby and Tom Stoppard teamed up to write a novel about quantum physics, love, and American academia, it would look a lot like this. Although this novel was a bit more lightweight than the hypothetical one they would produce would be, I think. Still enjoyable, though.

*

wintercreek did this meme, and I couldn't resist: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. I've got non-descriptive and ridiculous in spades. Pick any of them (as many as you want) and I'll either post a snippet or explain what the heck it's about.

due South
Increments
post-COTW
ten-dance [actually, I already posted a snippet here, come to think of it]
undercover
conversation

Babylon 5
Nine Stories
Remarkable Illusions/weddingfic
baseball/hockey
assassins
looney tunes

Corner Gas
fakeout

Northern Exposure
homeless
grosse pointe

Comments

[wintercreek]

"undercover," please!

[icepixie]

Ah, this one. It's the fifth cliche from my recent cliche!fic, which got cut because as plotted, it was going to be longer than all the other scenarios put together and that seemed unbalanced. It concerns (perhaps unsurprisingly, given that it's my bulletproof narrative kink) Fraser and Thatcher going undercover as a married couple.


Someone in Evidence had delivered the rings they'd requested. Both of them had received mercifully-simple gold bands, and someone down there had apparently scrounged up an engagement ring for her as well. She raised her eyebrows as she picked up the diamond, which one could quite possibly have seen from space.

"Perhaps we'll just...return that," she said, putting it aside. "I don't think it quite fits our personas." Though she supposed it would make her left uppercut much more impressive than it usually was.

"Indeed," he said. Then he shoved a hand into his pocket, fumbling for a moment before bringing out his fist closed around something small. "I thought perhaps for, ah, verisimilitude, you might wish to wear this." He opened his hand, and resting in his palm she saw a simple gold ring, the metal forged into a braided pattern, crowned with a small, solitary pearl. It shone with the gleam of something well-loved and well-cared for. "This belonged to my mother."

Of course it had. She'd guessed as much from the moment she'd seen it.

"I couldn't," she said quickly.

"Please," he said. "I...think it would help."

She didn't ask "with what." Instead, she pursed her lips. "Fine." He handed her the ring, and she slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

She was not going to take that as any kind of sign.

"I'll take good care of it," she said, brushing her thumb over the pearl.

"I know."

[aris_tgd]

OMG, As She Climbed Across the Table! That was my tiny-TINY-bookfandom Yuletide request two years running. The ending killed me.

Have you read any of his other work? I started with Gun, With Occasional Music but I think my favorite is either Girl In Landscape or his short story collection The Wall of the Sky, The Wall of the Eye.

[icepixie]

I haven't read anything else by him. I'm not entirely certain I will; the main draw for this one was the specifics of academia and physics. I think I could only take the style in small doses, like once a year or so. :D

[aris_tgd]

Also, I want to hear about ALL your B5 WIPs.

[icepixie]

Okay! :)

The baseball/hockey one is snippeted/detailed in the comments to the LJ version of this post, so I'll just direct you there for that one.

nine stories
Part of my going-on-epic Ivanova/Garibaldi series. The conceit is that it's made up of nine stories, one set during each month of Susan's pregnancy. I have about three and a half written at the moment. From part four:

She was never, ever doing this again, Susan thought as she dug in her top desk drawer for the crackers she'd stashed there several weeks ago. Not only might her morning sickness be better known as "all day sickness," but while Lillian had assured her that most women got over it by the end of the first trimester, she'd passed that deadline more than a month ago and it hadn't even lightened up. If anything, the nausea seemed to be worse.

Adding to her annoyance, and her consequent vow that one pregnancy was enough, was her realization this morning as she was getting dressed that there was simply no way she was going to be able to continue wearing her regular uniform for even another week, much less the extra month she'd hoped to stretch it out. She wasn't normally that invested in how fashionable her clothing was, but EarthForce's maternity uniform was a truly horrifying work of design. Lieutenant Arakawa, who'd had a son earlier this year, had also told her that the fabric itched interminably.

Not to mention the fact that the hormones currently flooding her system were making her...well, her mood these days was to "cranky" as a two-megaton nuclear bomb was to a firecracker.


Remarkable Illusions
From earlier in the same series. Basically, Delenn and Susan talk in the half hour before Susan gets married. I'm planning to do something with Lorien's pronouncement about eternal love being a remarkable illusion humans should embrace, but I'm not totally sure what yet. Snippet:

"Here you are," a soft voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to find Delenn approaching her, resplendent in formal red robes. "Are you trying to get away from everyone?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but you're always welcome." Delenn's very presence could have a calming effect when she wanted it to, and Susan hoped her friend could help her now. "You and John had the right idea. Get married in hyperspace on a ship that only accommodates a few other people rather than in front of half the station."

Delenn smiled at her. "Perhaps it will not be as bad as it seems." The smile turned mischievous. "Alternatively, you still have time to elope."

The image of Delenn, of all people, suggesting that she skip out on a ceremony and leave the crowd of people thirty feet away completely in the lurch was so at odds with the other woman's usual reverence for ritual that Susan had to laugh. Delenn joined her, and she was reminded how beautiful Delenn's musical laugh was, and how much she'd missed hearing it since her friends had moved to Minbar.

When their mirth had run its course, Delenn unfolded her hand and held out a pretty little flower, about half the size of her palm. It had six cream-colored petals arranged flat and daffodil-like around a deep crimson center. "This is for you. It's a *solla* flower." She handed it to Susan, who held it carefully by the short, thin stem. The petals were soft, like silk or spiderwebs. "We do not have a marriage ceremony exactly like yours, but when two Minbari pledge themseles to each other in the presence of their clans, females traditionally attach one to their clothing. You might call it a good luck charm."

"Thank you," Susan said, touched by the gesture. Bringing this all the way from Minbar must have required some careful packing. She looked down at her dress grays, unsure exactly where the distinctly non-regulation flower might go.

"I thought perhaps for your hair," Delenn said. This morning, Susan had woven her hair into an intricate French braid. It would fit nicely into one of the twists along her scalp.

"Let me help you," Delenn said, holding her hand out for the flower. "In some small measure, it will allow me to repay a favor."


assassins
aka The Damned Plotty Epic I've Been Working On For Almost Two Years. Set less than a week after "Remarkable Illusions." Michael and Susan travel to Earth, ostensibly for a honeymoon but really so that they can investigate death threats and assassination attempts on President Luchenko. Mostly I wanted to get Susan back in St. Petersburg so I could write this scene, which riffs a bit on my favorite Millay poem:

Two inches of snow had fallen the night before, and it crunched under her feet as she walked. Because it was early on a weekday, she was the only living person in the graveyard. It didn't take long to walk the still too-familiar path to the collection of stones labeled "Ivanov." Heedless of the fact that her trousers would get soaked, she knelt in front of them, silent and stone-faced, unsure what, exactly, she had come here to do.

She felt like a tree in winter, when all the birds that nested there in summer had vanished. Her entire family lay in that plot; mother, brother, father each interred in their turn. And there were so many others who had left her, friends and lovers and possibilities. Sometimes a woman with blonde hair would still make her turn her head sharply, wondering; a dark-haired man in the long robes of the Rangers, seen from behind, could still make her breath catch. Those birds had gone not just for a season.

The flutter of a wren in the snow caught her eye. From her school years in North America, she suddenly recalled cardinals, birds that stayed through the winter even in the coldest places. A tree with a cardinal living in it was never entirely empty.

She touched the ring on her finger. The newness of its presence was still surprising, but she was coming to like the weight of it, the constancy.


looney tunes
Not part of my series. Sometime in the first season, Garibaldi invites Ivanova over to watch some cartoons. Here's all I have so far:

She was going to regret this.

Standing outside Michael Garibaldi's door, Susan Ivanova considered just turning around and marching straight back to her quarters. God only knew what the security chief's "second-favorite thing in the universe" was, and if she were smart, she would leave it that way.

However, she had promised to come by and let him share it, whatever it was, with her, and an Ivanova kept her promises. Besides, she *was* curious--incredibly curious, though she'd never admit it. She'd asked him to just tell her what it was no fewer than three times since he'd mentioned it that morning, and each time he was more tight-lipped than the last. It looked like the only way she would find out would be to see for herself.

Against her better judgment, she rang the doorbell.

"Enter!" Garibaldi called almost immediately. The door opened, and she stepped inside.

She didn't *see* anything remarkable. His quarters were orderly, but not devoid of personality; among the evidence that he lived there were the framed poster of some kind of cartoon duck over the bed and the Mars Dodgers pennant next to it.

[aris_tgd]

N'aww :)

[deborah-judge.livejournal.com]

Hah! Funny. I have no idea what any of those titles mean, but I'm sure the resultant fics will be excellent. ;) I couldn't even do this meme, I don't even name my files, they're just things like 'bsg fic' or k/l fic'.

Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[deborah-judge.livejournal.com]

I'll take another of Ten Dances, or something from 'post-COTW'. Please?

Re: Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[icepixie]

Well, I haven't added anything to the ten-dance fic, but I do have stuff from the post-COTW fic. The premise is that Fraser and RayK still went on their sledding adventure, but Meg got posted in Toronto. About six months have passed since the season finale.


He entered the outpost at a flat-out run, zipping past the desks of a dozen bewildered RCMP members as he headed for the Inspector's office. He hadn't even had a chance to put on his uniform, much less drop his bags anywhere, but he was already late, and he had decided it was better to appear in civilian clothes rather than appear before his new superior officer, the commander of the Fort MacRee detachment of the RCMP, even further past the time he had been scheduled to show up.

He'd intended to find out the name of his new superior before arriving, but he had been sidetracked by a suspicious smell at the airport, which had led him and Diefenbaker to enough improperly stored fuel to destroy a dozen square kilometers, as well as to a staunch railroad supporter who had planned do use it for exactly those purposes, though he was still unclear on exactly how blowing up a small airport in northern Alberta, rather than somewhere more visible, would further the woman's cause. Making the arrest and then seeing that the fuel was properly put away had taken up the time he'd meant to use to mentally prepare himself for his new posting, and so he was a bit rattled when he threw open the door to the Inspector's office and said, "Sir, I'm terribly sorry for my tardiness..."

And then he realized who he was speaking to.

"Fraser?" Inspector Margaret Thatcher said, her eyes wide, dropping the jacket she held in her hands.

He felt his duffel bag slip out of his fingers, hitting the floor with a *thump*. "Inspector," he almost whispered. "You're my new superior officer?"

"You're my new *Constable*?"

He briefly glanced around the room, just in case. "It would appear so, ma'am."

She ran her hand through her hair—it was longer than the last time he'd seen her, he couldn't help noting, irrelevant as it was—somewhat nervously. "I had no idea—that is, I was told Ottawa was finally sending someone to take Constable Allen's place, but I only just received the file, and I didn't have a chance to look at it before we had to move on [name, probably a pun] and bring him in before he got out of the country."

His jaw dropped. "You captured [name]? The one behind more than thirty bank robberies in the past year?"

"He's in lock-up right now." She looked rather pleased with herself. "He gave us some trouble, but nothing we couldn't handle. I was able to get his weapon away from him before he could shoot anyone."

Truly, he didn't know what to say. (It was not, he couldn't help noting, the first time she had knocked him speechless.) The last time he'd seen her, Meg Thatcher had been on her way to an administrative position in Toronto, which she had seemed to be looking forward to. He'd never expected to find her doing—exulting in, really—fieldwork in a tiny town in the Northwest Territories.

Re: Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[deborah-judge.livejournal.com]

Okay, I am super-curious as to what's going on here. I want to see this fic!

Re: Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[icepixie]

(Ran out of character space...)

The plan for that one is that Meg went to Toronto, got bored because she didn't have Fraser involving her in crazy crime-fighting activities, and requested a posting where she could be more involved in field work. (I'm not entirely certain canon fully supports me in this, but I feel like she really misses field work and secretly relishes the opportunities she gets to do it thanks to Fraser's crazy cases, and wanted to poke at that in fic for a while.) And of course there is UST that is damn well going to turn into RST this time, and if I can manage a PLOT, OMG, a case of some kind where they each get to be awesome in their own unique ways...

Re: Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[deborah-judge.livejournal.com]

::wants::

if I can manage a PLOT, OMG, a case of some kind where they each get to be awesome in their own unique ways

let me know if I can help with brainstorming...

Re: Oh, sorry, I missed the offer to post a snippet

[icepixie]

let me know if I can help with brainstorming...

Ooooh. I will absolutely take you up on this when I turn my attention more fully to this fic. I always come up with some grandiose big picture, but can never work out the details so that everything makes sense and the bad guy doesn't come off like an idiot.

[icepixie]

Ah, thank you. :)

Sometimes if I really have no idea where the story's going (or if it's a pairing/fandom I'll never write again), they get named like yours. The actual title is almost always the last thing I come up with, so most of these are just stop-gaps. I think "Increments" is going to stick, though, as might "Remarkable Illusions."

[kungfuwaynewho.livejournal.com]

Baseball/hockey B5 fic? *ears perk up*

[icepixie]

sometime in 2271 or so...

As they settled in front of the vidscreen, Sofie asked, "Are we watching Daffy?"

"Not this time, kiddo." Michael turned the screen on, and video of Mars's Bradbury Memorial Park, filled with spectators, appeared. Down on the field, Daniel Matthias, the Dodgers's best hitter, swung at the ball. The bat made a satisfying *crack* as it connected, and the crowd cheered as he began to run the bases. Michael held his breath as Matthias circled the plates, and when he slid home, milliseconds before the Proxima Stars's second baseman threw the ball to the catcher, he thrust his fist in the air. "Yes!"

Sofie looked at him with an expression he'd seen often on Susan's face over the years. It was the one that openly questioned his sanity.

He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled. "I think it's high time I taught you the fine art of being a Dodgers fan."

* * *

When Susan walked into the living room, she found them both cheering for an opportune throw to third base that had gotten one of the Stars out and consequently won the game. She sat beside Michael, bemused, while he and Sofie rehashed the highlights of the game.

[Assorted action/dialogue] "So now I'm going to have both of you going nuts when the World Series is on?"

"Hey, there is no way I'm worse than you and Delenn during hockey playoffs."


...Because I have this image in my head of Susan being a fairly rabid hockey fan, and having at some point during the series gotten Delenn into it (Delenn needing some way of vicariously letting out her pent-up aggression). And of course later in this fic, Susan's going to sit Sofie down and be like, "Sweetie, your father is sadly misinformed about the relative merits of various team sports. Now I'm going to teach you all about HOCKEY!"

[mylittleredgirl.livejournal.com]

SUCH AMAZING CRACK, I LOVE IT.

You can love both baseball and hockey! Truefact!

[icepixie]

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.

Hehe, I'm thinking Sofie will defy both her parents and start loving/playing some Minbari sport. Or maybe she'll like both hockey and baseball. So many possibilities!

[kungfuwaynewho.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love this. Sofie looked at him with an expression he'd seen often on Susan's face over the years. It was the one that openly questioned his sanity. Hee!

And yes. Delenn and Susan and hockey. Yes.

[icepixie]

Thank you!

I can just see them sitting in front of the vidscreen in Susan's quarters, cheering and yelling at the screen...

Oh, and I've been meaning to ask...

[deborah-judge.livejournal.com]

Do you have any spare Thatcher or Fraser/Thatcher icons or know where I could get one? (I prefer not animated.) I would like to write fic for her and having the correct icon could inspire me.

Re: Oh, and I've been meaning to ask...

[icepixie]

You're welcome to any in my userpics, if you like. I can't think of anywhere I've seen F/T or Thatcher icons, but if I do, I'll let you know.