It's Gen Fic Day!

[fignewton]

Happy birthday, moonshayde!

We're commemorating two years' worth of gen recs over at stargateficrec with SG-1 Gen Fic Day!

Reply to this post with commentfic, drabbles, links to new works or WIPs, and fic recs - anything, as long as it's gen and SG-1.

If you've written a ficlet for Alphabet Soup, include it in the comments here or supply a link to the fic on your own LJ. I'll collate them all into one big Alphabet Soup when we've got Daniel completely defined from A to Z! There are still a few letters left to claim if you want to join in the fun.

This post will remain open for submissions until Thursday morning my time, which is midnight or so on the West Coast in the States.

Write! Post! Comment! Squee! Have fun. :)

ETA: There are still ten hours or so left on the official deadline. It's bedtime in my part of the world, but I wanted to point out there are three letters left for Alphabet Soup: O, R, and Y. If you'd like to take one and help us finish, just leave a comment so that others will know not to claim it.

I'd love to wake up tomorrow morning and find our Alphabet Soup all done! :)

Comments

T is for Temper - part 1

[randomfreshink.livejournal.com]

What's Chosen

Daniel stood with the whip in one hand, as close to losing it as he could remember--and for an instant, pretty sure he was about to be knocked on his ass. He didn't care. And then the other guy blinked, seemed to realize who'd stopped that last blow, and he dropped his end of the whip and stepped back. But Daniel, blood singing and heart pounding, has had it.

He's seen domestic disputes before on Abydos, told himself it was tradition--their laws--and looked away. This, however, is prejudice, and just stupidity, and the injustice is still digging under his skin.

It'll leave him shaking and sick afterwards--he's been though it before. Fights that left him on the ground usually. And one time when he really lost it that he doesn't remember--after his parents died, when his next memory was of sitting in a hospital, dried blood flaking from his fingers and a reed-thin voice that came out when he tried to ask what happened. It's still a blur--he can still hear his parent's yelling, and his own. The sound of stone. But he has no memory of screaming his voice away, nor does he recall clawing at rock with bare nails.

This moment, however, has become as crystalline as that second when the chain snapped.

And he's almost managed to hold back the heat flaming up from his belly to burn on his face. But Sha're has backed away, and Kasuf has approached with small bows.

With a nervous glance for the other man, and then at youth on the ground, and finally a worried stare for Daniel, Kasuf asks, "Good son?"

Kasuf has used the same tone as when he thought Daniel to be Ra's emissary--and Daniel knows he can use that, because he will do whatever it takes to get this to stop.

"Good father--there will be no more of this."

"But..." Puzzled, Kasuf searched for his words in the crowd, then looked back and offered, with almost an apology, "The woman, she dishonors her husband two-fold...this one was Ra's."

Letting the whip drop, heat incinerating his skin, Daniel shredded the last restraint of impartial observation.

"Once Ra's?" Arms thrown wide, he turned to the crowd, asked in Abydonian, "Were you not all once Ra's? Are you not the people who ended that?"

He can keep telling himself he's just observer, a scientist. But he's not, damnit. This has become his life. But he has just started to realize what it means to be these people's savior--god, he's never had or wanted this kind of responsibility. Which is one more reason this must end.

It's just wrong.

Scanning the crowd, searching for someone who will see truth, he knows these people are far from civilized. Right now, he's not that different--he also wants to beat a man just about to death. The only real difference is that he's learned how to make words as damaging as fists.

"Did Ra not beat you and starve you and kill your families for no better reason that it was his whim? Is that how you wish to live still--as the way it was with him for your god?"

He walked to the crowd's edge, had them fall back as he shouted, "You fought for what's right. Your loved ones died. And yet--you watch this..." he pointed to the half-naked couple in the street, dirt streaked and bloody, cowering, afraid now to even look at each other. "Are you still Ra's children?"

"No!" The shout lifted high and sharp, and Skaara stepped out, flanked by his friends, his back to the others now. "We are not Ra's!"

Daniel waited, but Skaara couldn't make that last step, so Daniel did it for him.

He went to the youth in the street, held out his hand. He heard the intake of a dozen quick breaths cross like a desert breeze. Ra's chosen had no home, no family--they'd been touched by the gods, and so became untouchable. After all, why would anyone return to a mortal life? Unless you'd been abandoned by the gods.

They were dead to their families--walking ghosts. Shunned, feared, sometimes hated. Arrogant, spoiled, untrained for any work, and terrified by a world they no longer knew. Sometimes fed or given clothes out of mercy, or in case they might still hold sway with Ra's favor.

Daniel only looked at and saw the same puzzled emptiness he'd once had in his own life.