Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard Appreciation/Ship/Discussion Thread

[Anuna]

Yay I'm in!!! (I need somethign to cheer me up... I had an extra crappy day and I really feel sad).

Comforting, version one.

[mcat]

Concerned, version 1.

[sofie]

Fun
One of my favorites!!

Obvious flirting

[Anuna]

Obvious flirting, late night coffee edition

[mcat]

#6. Obvious flirting, offworld edition

[Anuna]

#7 a glare, classic Weir edition



And OMG, Coratia just chose the song that will go to Eurosong.

And just a drabble.... I'm trying to fight off my weird mood with writing.... here's a ficlet that will probbably be longer. Be so kind and ignore my crappy grammar.

Spoiler:

His hands.

She watches his hands resting on his weapon, fair skin creating a contrast to dark material of his uniform. The calm steady posture and his eyes are so very different from her excited, shaky voice, and she looks at him while she speaks, wishing for him to feel just how important this is, how important all of them are.

His eyes remain calm and his hands look capable and something about them, and strong fingers clasped around the barrel of the P 90 make her believe she can trust him.

-x-

The rain is cold and dark, and Rodney is there with her, staring at the face of death, and she fights with all her might, but it doesn’t seem real. She doesn’t let it feel real. She can’t. She has to keep her mind in check, her thoughts under control, she has to win and that is why she can’t allow it to be real, to feel real, because she would lose her control.

When she hears his voice over the radio and is allowed to tell him she is okay, she shivers inside. It's not the cold or the rain, it's the hope, it's the desperation in his voice that assures her he will do anything. When he tells her it’s good to hear her voice she feels something inside of her break, something like a tiny hole in a seam, threatening to grow and tear her apart and she has to think of his hands.


His hand is so large, and strong and safe when it grips hers and pulls her away, and she can allow herself to know that this is real.

-x-

The hand that grips her throat isn’t really his. It’s smooth and thin and deformed, with claw like nails and blue skin. Those eyes aren’t John’s eyes but she knows he is still there because the pain she feels, the pain he presses into her skin that is inside of him and she wonders was it always within him.

When he is captured and finally resting on infirmary bed, his hands covered with dark skin look so frail like never before, and she can feel real, physical pain when she looks at him and everything that’s left of him.

It takes days to see his eyes open again and he gives her a weak smile, but the feeling of his hand is familiar again, and after his fingers tangle with hers, she can close her eyes without crying herself to sleep.

-x-

When he steps just a bit too close she notices her heart is racing. It’s been almost three years and she knows his footsteps and his scent. Worrying about him has become her second nature, and seeing his eyes and smile is something she learned to count on, to look forward to. He is there just like the sunrise over the city, every day.

But when his hand grasps hers in a silent agreement, when his team is walking ahead of them and they themselves are not watching the fingers that tangle together and drag their feed and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary, she wishes for the walk to last longer, just so she could hold his hand without needing to look into his eyes and define what this is; without needing to let go.

-x-

When cold, unwanted hands take her and pull her away all she thinks is “Go, just go, be safe”. All she sees are his eyes, deep, and painful and desperate, and she knows he dies inside when he leaves her.

As her memories disappear, taken away from her when the collective traps her and closes her inside the world of shadows and illusions and lies, only few things remain.

The bark of her dog.

The watch her father gave her when she joined her first diplomatic mission.

The sunrise over Atlantis.

The feeling of a strong, comforting hands holding hers, keeping her safe, guiding her home.

Sorry for angst people....

[Pocus]

#7 a glare, classic Weir edition

http://i183.photobucket.com/albums/x.../bscap1661.jpg

And OMG, Coratia just chose the song that will go to Eurosong.

And just a drabble.... I'm trying to fight off my weird mood with writing.... here's a ficlet that will probbably be longer. Be so kind and ignore my crappy grammar.

Spoiler:

His hands.

She watches his hands resting on his weapon, fair skin creating a contrast to dark material of his uniform. The calm steady posture and his eyes are so very different from her excited, shaky voice, and she looks at him while she speaks, wishing for him to feel just how important this is, how important all of them are.

His eyes remain calm and his hands look capable and something about them, and strong fingers clasped around the barrel of the P 90 make her believe she can trust him.

-x-

The rain is cold and dark, and Rodney is there with her, staring at the face of death, and she fights with all her might, but it doesn’t seem real. She doesn’t let it feel real. She can’t. She has to keep her mind in check, her thoughts under control, she has to win and that is why she can’t allow it to be real, to feel real, because she would lose her control.

When she hears his voice over the radio and is allowed to tell him she is okay, she shivers inside. It's not the cold or the rain, it's the hope, it's the desperation in his voice that assures her he will do anything. When he tells her it’s good to hear her voice she feels something inside of her break, something like a tiny hole in a seam, threatening to grow and tear her apart and she has to think of his hands.


His hand is so large, and strong and safe when it grips hers and pulls her away, and she can allow herself to know that this is real.

-x-

The hand that grips her throat isn’t really his. It’s smooth and thin and deformed, with claw like nails and blue skin. Those eyes aren’t John’s eyes but she knows he is still there because the pain she feels, the pain he presses into her skin that is inside of him and she wonders was it always within him.

When he is captured and finally resting on infirmary bed, his hands covered with dark skin look so frail like never before, and she can feel real, physical pain when she looks at him and everything that’s left of him.

It takes days to see his eyes open again and he gives her a weak smile, but the feeling of his hand is familiar again, and after his fingers tangle with hers, she can close her eyes without crying herself to sleep.

-x-

When he steps just a bit too close she notices her heart is racing. It’s been almost three years and she knows his footsteps and his scent. Worrying about him has become her second nature, and seeing his eyes and smile is something she learned to count on, to look forward to. He is there just like the sunrise over the city, every day.

But when his hand grasps hers in a silent agreement, when his team is walking ahead of them and they themselves are not watching the fingers that tangle together and drag their feed and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary, she wishes for the walk to last longer, just so she could hold his hand without needing to look into his eyes and define what this is; without needing to let go.

-x-

When cold, unwanted hands take her and pull her away all she thinks is “Go, just go, be safe”. All she sees are his eyes, deep, and painful and desperate, and she knows he dies inside when he leaves her.

As her memories disappear, taken away from her when the collective traps her and closes her inside the world of shadows and illusions and lies, only few things remain.

The bark of her dog.

The watch her father gave her when she joined her first diplomatic mission.

The sunrise over Atlantis.

The feeling of a strong, comforting hands holding hers, keeping her safe, guiding her home.

Sorry for angst people....

That is wonderful, as it usually is. I love his hands and the protection they offer her.

[PaulrissaRahany]

You're welcome!

And what do you mean, Sparky's not on the show?!? It was in all three seasons! Oh. Wait. You mean that other show, right? The one that took over when Stargate Atlantis ended? That lame parody known as Survivor: Atlantis? LMAO!

More fanfic recs (both still in progress):

Diminishing Proximity by irony_rocks (Sparky AU with werewolves. Not work-friendly.)

Standing at the Edge by Pantherlady (S4 AU)

*nods* I've watched that show before! Survivor:Atlantis...poor fans/writers...they don't know a good cast when it hits them on the head. =D

[Scary Kitty]

Have any of you seen this? Found it over in the merchandise forum...

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?s..._2b_2bgA_3d_3d

MGM is taking a survey of what kinds of Stargate merchandise fans want to buy. You can select specific characters you'd like to see merchandise for (including our very own John and Elizabeth!) and add additional comments and suggestions for specific items.

Go forth, and Vote for Sparky!

I'd like to read it (I don't mind star trekky). But you know what's funny? You can find Star Trek novelizations here, or Star Wars, but no Stargate! Agh!

You can order them directly from the publisher; I think they ship worldwide.
http://www.stargatenovels.com/index.shtml

#6. Obvious flirting, offworld edition
http://i123.photobucket.com/albums/o310/lantea/epip.jpg

I always get such a kick out of watching this scene because Lizzie totally gives that Teer chick the Death!Glare of Doom! Stay away from John, you wench!

And just a drabble.... I'm trying to fight off my weird mood with writing.... here's a ficlet that will probbably be longer. Be so kind and ignore my crappy grammar.

Spoiler:

His hands.

She watches his hands resting on his weapon, fair skin creating a contrast to dark material of his uniform. The calm steady posture and his eyes are so very different from her excited, shaky voice, and she looks at him while she speaks, wishing for him to feel just how important this is, how important all of them are.

His eyes remain calm and his hands look capable and something about them, and strong fingers clasped around the barrel of the P 90 make her believe she can trust him.

-x-

The rain is cold and dark, and Rodney is there with her, staring at the face of death, and she fights with all her might, but it doesn’t seem real. She doesn’t let it feel real. She can’t. She has to keep her mind in check, her thoughts under control, she has to win and that is why she can’t allow it to be real, to feel real, because she would lose her control.

When she hears his voice over the radio and is allowed to tell him she is okay, she shivers inside. It's not the cold or the rain, it's the hope, it's the desperation in his voice that assures her he will do anything. When he tells her it’s good to hear her voice she feels something inside of her break, something like a tiny hole in a seam, threatening to grow and tear her apart and she has to think of his hands.


His hand is so large, and strong and safe when it grips hers and pulls her away, and she can allow herself to know that this is real.

-x-

The hand that grips her throat isn’t really his. It’s smooth and thin and deformed, with claw like nails and blue skin. Those eyes aren’t John’s eyes but she knows he is still there because the pain she feels, the pain he presses into her skin that is inside of him and she wonders was it always within him.

When he is captured and finally resting on infirmary bed, his hands covered with dark skin look so frail like never before, and she can feel real, physical pain when she looks at him and everything that’s left of him.

It takes days to see his eyes open again and he gives her a weak smile, but the feeling of his hand is familiar again, and after his fingers tangle with hers, she can close her eyes without crying herself to sleep.

-x-

When he steps just a bit too close she notices her heart is racing. It’s been almost three years and she knows his footsteps and his scent. Worrying about him has become her second nature, and seeing his eyes and smile is something she learned to count on, to look forward to. He is there just like the sunrise over the city, every day.

But when his hand grasps hers in a silent agreement, when his team is walking ahead of them and they themselves are not watching the fingers that tangle together and drag their feed and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary, she wishes for the walk to last longer, just so she could hold his hand without needing to look into his eyes and define what this is; without needing to let go.

-x-

When cold, unwanted hands take her and pull her away all she thinks is “Go, just go, be safe”. All she sees are his eyes, deep, and painful and desperate, and she knows he dies inside when he leaves her.

As her memories disappear, taken away from her when the collective traps her and closes her inside the world of shadows and illusions and lies, only few things remain.

The bark of her dog.

The watch her father gave her when she joined her first diplomatic mission.

The sunrise over Atlantis.

The feeling of a strong, comforting hands holding hers, keeping her safe, guiding her home.

Sorry for angst people....

Angsty but beautiful!

*nods* I've watched that show before! Survivor:Atlantis...poor fans/writers...they don't know a good cast when it hits them on the head. =D

Yep! Poor Survivor: Atlantis... Yet another sad example of why remakes are never as good as the original.

[Ruined_puzzle]

Have any of you seen this? Found it over in the merchandise forum...

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?s..._2b_2bgA_3d_3d

MGM is taking a survey of what kinds of Stargate merchandise fans want to buy. You can select specific characters you'd like to see merchandise for (including our very own John and Elizabeth!) and add additional comments and suggestions for specific items.

Go forth, and Vote for Sparky!

In the feedback section I totally told them that I wanted a Shep/Weir T-shirt. lol. Got to spread the sparky love.

[Scary Kitty]

In the feedback section I totally told them that I wanted a Shep/Weir T-shirt. lol. Got to spread the sparky love.

So did I! LOL!

I also asked for Sheppard's dog tags (they've already got O'Neill's and Carter's, for pity's sake, so this should be a no-brainer for them!). Come to think of it, the only time we've ever seen John wearing his dog tags was in "Thirty Eight Minutes" back in Season 1. Every other time he's wound up in the infirmary or otherwise had enough of his neck/chest exposed to be able to at least see the chain, it's not there! What the frak happened to his dog tags?

Elizabeth's wearing them. (or at least, he gave her a spare set. 'cause that's so a boyfriend thing to do!) That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

[Anuna]

So did I! LOL!

I also asked for Sheppard's dog tags (they've already got O'Neill's and Carter's, for pity's sake, so this should be a no-brainer for them!). Come to think of it, the only time we've ever seen John wearing his dog tags was in "Thirty Eight Minutes" back in Season 1. Every other time he's wound up in the infirmary or otherwise had enough of his neck/chest exposed to be able to at least see the chain, it's not there! What the frak happened to his dog tags?

Elizabeth's wearing them. (or at least, he gave her a spare set. 'cause that's so a boyfriend thing to do!) That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Aaaaargh!!! First you send me straight to gutter mentioning *that* scene in 38 minutes and then you give me a plot bunny?! So so sooooooo unfair!

[muffinnuffin]

Hah! Yeah, it's definitely not SGA, and never will be.

I have a theory about what's happened this season, which is quite complicated. I'll explain to anyone who wants to hear though

I remebe when i was younger an Irish band Called B*witched and i jsut found a good song that would be for sparky.. Corney filmclip tahts the 90's for ya

To you I Belong

AW MAN I haven't heard them for years! Their album was one of the first CDs I ever owned

And OMG, Coratia just chose the song that will go to Eurosong.

You've chosen it already? We've got a whole Saturday night TV show dedicated to choosing which song will get us points and then choosing someone else...

Srsly. Thats how we work here

[sofie]

You've chosen it already? We've got a whole Saturday night TV show dedicated to choosing which song will get us points and then choosing someone else...

Srsly. Thats how we work here

Same here in Belgium, it takes them really really long to chose.. There are some songs I really like in the now 10 qualified songs.. We'll probably end up sending something really silly

Obvious flirting: infirmary edition

[Vixen]

McKay (black pesky kitten): So, what are you guys doing up here?
Weir (orange kitten): Wishing for some time alone.
Sheppard (white kitten): In other words: Beat it, McKay.