Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard Appreciation/Ship/Discussion Thread

[Anuna]

Aren't they though? And it looks like they're having a great time. So good to see them together again.

I think it's epic in itself to see them there, together. It reminds me of everything good that SGA was and still is to me.

[Falcon Horus]

Torri's steadily loosing her voice though, which makes her sound unbelievably sexy...

Oh, and I updated the first post of the Atlantis Rising thread. Just so you know.

[Southern Red]

SR, my PM box is cleared. Send away!

I have a fic snippet to share. It's something I'm working on, but not constantly, as I need to finish BoD. Anyway, it's an idea that's been going through my head for a long time. JT, this is that thing I was telling you about.

Spoiler:

It's a cold and rainy October evening, and the fall is taking it's cold and unattractive shape. It's probably too cold to sit on the outside, but Kate thinks it's best to accommodate this particular client. Elizabeth's hand holding a cigar is shaking slightly, and her gaze is focused on something far away. Kate has a pretty good guess where her mind is wandering, though. The trick with Elizabeth is to keep her hands busy, to wrangle that nervous energy of hers. She needs a bit to calm down. Her hands look too old for someone her age, and the lines on her face have seen much better days.

“I like it. I like the cold,” she says, blowing off the smoke. “It was always warm and clammy in there,” she adds.

“Can I borrow one?” Kate asks and Elizabeth nods. It's not something she does with other clients, but months of wrong approaches have brought her here. Elizabeth is so protective. She rarely says something completely personal. Kate wonders what was she like three years ago. She had read the newspaper articles, seen all of the television footage she could find. She stared at grainy pictures of younger Elizabeth, wearing strict costumes and flattened hair, until she felt she had done her homework. The day is slowly fading when Kate lights her cigarette.

“Did you always smoke?”

Elizabeth looks at her. “Nobody does that.” She brings the cigarette to her lips and pulls in a smoke, then blows it away. Kate finds it important, the way she does it, like it's something defining and important. In Elizabeth's circumstances, it probably was, an expression of free will. Perhaps. It's still a working hypothesis “I started... there. One among many new, unwanted habits.”

She shakes her head, then looks down at her outstretched legs, an old pair of boots she's wearing.

“Tell me, Doc, is this supposed to fix me?”

“What do you think?” Kate says. She sees how the other woman stiffens, and it's not the cold, but she's brave enough not to pull back completely.

“I think some things can't be fixed,” she says. Around them, the darkness slowly gathers.

*

Crap.

It's the first thing that goes through his mind when he's woken up by the sound of persistent, loud barking.

This neighborhood is a bit too loud for his liking, but John has too much work to do, and moving for the third time this year is out of the question. He'll simply have to put up with it, until a better opportunity presents itself. Literally. He enjoys his job, but sometimes it means insane working hours. The daylight drifts into his room, struggling to reach inside.

All that nonsense, being a photograph. That's the best you can do with yourself?

Not best, but I kinda like it, dad.

He drops the old fight to echo in the corner of his mind until it eventually fades away. Ten- ish years ago a younger John would laugh into his face, but now? Part of him wishes he had regular, boring, nine - to - five kind of work (and a wife and few kids. But no dog. Dear God, no dog.)

The barking outside isn't stopping and John pulls himself out of the bed. The floor is too cold, he remembers it's almost November, remembers the smell of his mother's kitchen and pumpkin pie. It's strange how some things linger like smells and images. Always images.

The dog below his window is insulting his barely – awake state of mind with all its might and John is determined to throw something out of the window and make the stupid mutt go away. He isn't really thinking about his appearance when he opens the window, putting his half - dressed self onto display.

"Hey! Would you, whoever you are, keep that damn dog quiet? Some people here are still asleep!"

He yells and it results in a new barking outburst.

"God damn it," he curses.

"Is there a problem?" someone calls from under his window just when he was about to go and look for something he really could throw out.

It's a female voice, and a pretty distinct one at that. One like your strictest teacher and clear as a morning sky in late August, when every detail of nature just stands, waiting. He turns around and leans out, enough to present his shirtless, unshaven appearance to a brown haired woman. She is slender, as slender as he imagined just a moment before, with a determined look in her eyes. He can tell, by the way she is speaking, that it's something she was good at, like someone who can make people stop and listen. He feels slightly more awake, and in addition more aware of how he must look, realizing how cold air hugs his skin. She is looking at him in a very distinct way and he certainly isn't blushing.

"Um," he says.

"Is there a problem?"

Barking. A medium sized dog comes into view, something rugged and pretty ugly looking. She puts a hand on dog's head, and the animal calms down. The woman presents him with a raised eyebrow in a way that makes a corner of his lips curl upward. He is a photographer after all, and he knows a good thing when he sees one. He observes her uncombed hair, she seems to resemble her dog a little, like a challenge dressed in too big jeans and an oversized T shirt, with boxes and packages filling the yard around her. The yard next to his. Damn. His new neighbor?

John straightens, showing himself purposefully and not entirely thinking. He is not about to stumble out of this ungraciously, just because he's forgotten such a thing as a shirt. It's kind of good to notice that she doesn't shy away either.

"I was asleep," he says, pointing towards her dog.

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry," she smiles kindly, but there's something belated about her expression. The smile stays, though, and he's pretty certain she reminds him of someone. "Party late?"

"Working late," he says, remembering his manners, "I'm sorry for rudeness. You're moving in?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'm sorry about my dog. She can be loud when she's excited."

"Apology accepted," he answers.

She smiles pleasantly, shushing her dog again. "Thank you. I'm Elizabeth. I'd offer you a coffee, but -" she gestures around herself. John answers with a smile.

"It's okay, I know how that works. Moved in recently myself. I'm John."

"Nice to meet you, John," she says a little hesitant. It's still a little slow, like she's lost in thought, or something. This one seems calmer, less fleeting and more grounded in a mutual exchange of names., yet she reminds him on a yellow leaf, barely holding onto its branch. He likes this, though, and he might even forgive her that awful dog.

"Pleasure is all mine. Now, about that coffee -"

Honest evaluation. Great meeting, very promising beginning for what could be an outstanding AU. Except for the smoking which I hate more than anything I can think of. But that's just my personal prejudice.

Sorry, but I'm in a really bad mood right now. Really bad. Really really bad. Not Sparky related though.

[Irish Eyes]

I thought I should upload a few pictures for you - a few of the ones I consider to be good enough to share as far as quality goes, cause taking pictures is not my forte. BUT I'm sitting way in the back cause there's no one else there to annoy plus excellent view of the stage as it is taking place in an auditorium.

So without further ado I present to you some Torri, Joe and Paul pictures:

Spoiler:

And I also would like to introduce to you Carson, my stuffed turtle cosily viewing the world from my backpack... and yeah the weather rocks out here:

Spoiler:

Thank you for the awesome pics! *HUGS*

Looks like The Hair is in fine form!

SPARKY FTW!!!!!

[Anuna]

Honest evaluation. Great meeting, very promising beginning for what could be an outstanding AU. Except for the smoking which I hate more than anything I can think of. But that's just my personal prejudice.

Sorry, but I'm in a really bad mood right now. Really bad. Really really bad. Not Sparky related though.

*hugs* I just saw your tweet.

Thank you for the honest evaluation! I'm aware that you don't like smoking (and many other people, including me). Trust me on this one. Smoking is there for a reason. It really is. If I told you why, I'd spoil you. I'm glad you like the beginning

[JT-2]

Falcon - such great pictures! SQUEE!!! You caught an adorable Torri pout. Don't like her necklace though - creepy! And does Joe have a pair of con jeans? It seems like he's always wearing those pants. Not that I'm obsessively checking his pants. Oh wait, now I sound weird.

Anuna - That's a really promising beginning! I like where you're going with it.

SR - I'm sorry you're in such a bad mood. Anything I can do to help? Some Vegas!John?

[Anuna]

SR - here's something to make you feel better:

Spoiler:

[JT-2]

SR - here's something to make you feel better:

Spoiler:

You just had to do better than I did!

[Anuna]

You just had to do better than I did!

I'm a show - off.

[Lt.Colonel John Sheppard]

SR, my PM box is cleared. Send away!

I have a fic snippet to share. It's something I'm working on, but not constantly, as I need to finish BoD. Anyway, it's an idea that's been going through my head for a long time. JT, this is that thing I was telling you about.

Spoiler:

It's a cold and rainy October evening, and the fall is taking it's cold and unattractive shape. It's probably too cold to sit on the outside, but Kate thinks it's best to accommodate this particular client. Elizabeth's hand holding a cigar is shaking slightly, and her gaze is focused on something far away. Kate has a pretty good guess where her mind is wandering, though. The trick with Elizabeth is to keep her hands busy, to wrangle that nervous energy of hers. She needs a bit to calm down. Her hands look too old for someone her age, and the lines on her face have seen much better days.

“I like it. I like the cold,” she says, blowing off the smoke. “It was always warm and clammy in there,” she adds.

“Can I borrow one?” Kate asks and Elizabeth nods. It's not something she does with other clients, but months of wrong approaches have brought her here. Elizabeth is so protective. She rarely says something completely personal. Kate wonders what was she like three years ago. She had read the newspaper articles, seen all of the television footage she could find. She stared at grainy pictures of younger Elizabeth, wearing strict costumes and flattened hair, until she felt she had done her homework. The day is slowly fading when Kate lights her cigarette.

“Did you always smoke?”

Elizabeth looks at her. “Nobody does that.” She brings the cigarette to her lips and pulls in a smoke, then blows it away. Kate finds it important, the way she does it, like it's something defining and important. In Elizabeth's circumstances, it probably was, an expression of free will. Perhaps. It's still a working hypothesis “I started... there. One among many new, unwanted habits.”

She shakes her head, then looks down at her outstretched legs, an old pair of boots she's wearing.

“Tell me, Doc, is this supposed to fix me?”

“What do you think?” Kate says. She sees how the other woman stiffens, and it's not the cold, but she's brave enough not to pull back completely.

“I think some things can't be fixed,” she says. Around them, the darkness slowly gathers.

*

Crap.

It's the first thing that goes through his mind when he's woken up by the sound of persistent, loud barking.

This neighborhood is a bit too loud for his liking, but John has too much work to do, and moving for the third time this year is out of the question. He'll simply have to put up with it, until a better opportunity presents itself. Literally. He enjoys his job, but sometimes it means insane working hours. The daylight drifts into his room, struggling to reach inside.

All that nonsense, being a photograph. That's the best you can do with yourself?

Not best, but I kinda like it, dad.

He drops the old fight to echo in the corner of his mind until it eventually fades away. Ten- ish years ago a younger John would laugh into his face, but now? Part of him wishes he had regular, boring, nine - to - five kind of work (and a wife and few kids. But no dog. Dear God, no dog.)

The barking outside isn't stopping and John pulls himself out of the bed. The floor is too cold, he remembers it's almost November, remembers the smell of his mother's kitchen and pumpkin pie. It's strange how some things linger like smells and images. Always images.

The dog below his window is insulting his barely – awake state of mind with all its might and John is determined to throw something out of the window and make the stupid mutt go away. He isn't really thinking about his appearance when he opens the window, putting his half - dressed self onto display.

"Hey! Would you, whoever you are, keep that damn dog quiet? Some people here are still asleep!"

He yells and it results in a new barking outburst.

"God damn it," he curses.

"Is there a problem?" someone calls from under his window just when he was about to go and look for something he really could throw out.

It's a female voice, and a pretty distinct one at that. One like your strictest teacher and clear as a morning sky in late August, when every detail of nature just stands, waiting. He turns around and leans out, enough to present his shirtless, unshaven appearance to a brown haired woman. She is slender, as slender as he imagined just a moment before, with a determined look in her eyes. He can tell, by the way she is speaking, that it's something she was good at, like someone who can make people stop and listen. He feels slightly more awake, and in addition more aware of how he must look, realizing how cold air hugs his skin. She is looking at him in a very distinct way and he certainly isn't blushing.

"Um," he says.

"Is there a problem?"

Barking. A medium sized dog comes into view, something rugged and pretty ugly looking. She puts a hand on dog's head, and the animal calms down. The woman presents him with a raised eyebrow in a way that makes a corner of his lips curl upward. He is a photographer after all, and he knows a good thing when he sees one. He observes her uncombed hair, she seems to resemble her dog a little, like a challenge dressed in too big jeans and an oversized T shirt, with boxes and packages filling the yard around her. The yard next to his. Damn. His new neighbor?

John straightens, showing himself purposefully and not entirely thinking. He is not about to stumble out of this ungraciously, just because he's forgotten such a thing as a shirt. It's kind of good to notice that she doesn't shy away either.

"I was asleep," he says, pointing towards her dog.

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry," she smiles kindly, but there's something belated about her expression. The smile stays, though, and he's pretty certain she reminds him of someone. "Party late?"

"Working late," he says, remembering his manners, "I'm sorry for rudeness. You're moving in?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'm sorry about my dog. She can be loud when she's excited."

"Apology accepted," he answers.

She smiles pleasantly, shushing her dog again. "Thank you. I'm Elizabeth. I'd offer you a coffee, but -" she gestures around herself. John answers with a smile.

"It's okay, I know how that works. Moved in recently myself. I'm John."

"Nice to meet you, John," she says a little hesitant. It's still a little slow, like she's lost in thought, or something. This one seems calmer, less fleeting and more grounded in a mutual exchange of names., yet she reminds him on a yellow leaf, barely holding onto its branch. He likes this, though, and he might even forgive her that awful dog.

"Pleasure is all mine. Now, about that coffee -"

very cool story. i hope you continue with it.

[mandogater]

Yes! I drive routes beforehand, too! *high-fives*

Even blown up on a big screen, they're adorkable. Yay!


EEEEEEEE! SO CUTE!!!!!!! *flails*

*high-fives back* That trick always helped me, except when the school sign was hidden in a cornfield.

Loving the picks so far.

[JT-2]

I'm a show - off.

http://i183.photobucket.com/albums/x...1/smith/42.jpg

Is that your Slytherin side coming through?

I will try to beat you with some silly Joe:










Just saw a tweet that they didn't have time for the Joe/Torri panel. Booooooooooooooo!!!!

[Pocus]

Mmmm shirtless Shep!!!

[Southern Red]

*hugs* I just saw your tweet.

Thank you for the honest evaluation! I'm aware that you don't like smoking (and many other people, including me). Trust me on this one. Smoking is there for a reason. It really is. If I told you why, I'd spoil you. I'm glad you like the beginning

Okay, I'll take your word for it.

And you'd think my team winning the football game would have put me in a good mood. But they played badbadbad and almost got beaten by frelling DUKE. Duke, for God's sakes.

SR - here's something to make you feel better:

Spoiler:

http://i183.photobucket.com/albums/x...h/00072kqd.jpg

Ahhh, feeling much better already. Thanks.

Falcon - such great pictures! SQUEE!!! You caught an adorable Torri pout. Don't like her necklace though - creepy! And does Joe have a pair of con jeans? It seems like he's always wearing those pants. Not that I'm obsessively checking his pants. Oh wait, now I sound weird.

Anuna - That's a really promising beginning! I like where you're going with it.

SR - I'm sorry you're in such a bad mood. Anything I can do to help? Some Vegas!John?

http://i1143.photobucket.com/albums/...gifs/vegas.gif

Thanks for that. How can anybody remain in a bad mood with friends like you guys? And thanks to Pocus for the cheer up green.

Those are the jeans he said you never have to wash. I name them the official con jeans. Have you seen them from the back? You can almost read the screen on that iPhone in his pocket.

Spoiler:

I asked Mr. SR at the con why he missed this shot and he said "I didn't think you'd want a picture of him with his back turned." Poor dear, clueless man.

[JT-2]

Mmmm shirtless Shep!!!

We're so easily entertained, aren't we?