July 4th, 2015


A prayer on Independence Day

Blessed are you, almighty God,
for you have created us in dignity and honor
and through Christ your Son
have given us the great gift of freedom.
You implant in us the desire for true liberty,
which is our dignity as your children
and the right of every people.
For these and all your mercies, we praise you,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit:
Blessed be God for ever!

- adapted by Stephen Benner from We Give You Thanks and Praise: the Ambrosian Eucharistic Prefaces, translated by Alan Griffiths

Ficlet: Rural Life [SGA]

For violeteyedcat's prompt "In honor of the 4th of July and alliteration: patriotism, popsicles, picnic".


Atlantis culture was not representative of Earth culture, Elizabeth had told Teyla more than once. "Well, really, there is no such thing as 'Earth culture'," she added the week before Teyla's visit there. "Perhaps the best way to think of it is like a couple hundred planets all coexisting together." Which Teyla hadn't been able to make sense of, but she was used to that, after several years of living with the expedition.

"No, Elizabeth's right," John said when Teyla expressed her doubts while they waited at Midway station for the Milkyway gate sequence to dial. "And she gave me a carefully-phrased lecture about giving you an adequate introduction to some of the more prominent ones, but I figured we'd just go stay with my cousin and do some day trips, if that's okay with you. Maybe take a weekend to the city for some museums."

"She did make it sound somewhat ... overwhelming," Teyla agreed. "And I would like to get to know your family."

"Well, that's pretty much just Bill." The stargate burst into existence before them; it looked the same as the one that had brought them here, the same as they all did. Really, it ought to at least be a different color, to signify that a strange new world lay on the other end. "I hope you like the rural life," John said, his wry tone suggesting some hidden jokeCollapse )

Ficlet: Light Me Up [SPN]

Apparently I'm writing Supernatural fanfic now. Was not expecting that. Also for violeteyedcat's prompt In honor of the 4th of July and alliteration: patriotism, popsicles, picnic.


Dean plans the day with all the precision and care usually dedicated to a large-scale military assault, scoping out not just the predicted weather conditions (muggy, overcast) and the parade route (four blocks over from the place he and Sam are squatting in; there's a stretch of five houses that'll be empty the day of, so they can set up there for decent seats), but also local church potlucks, which towns have the best firework displays and when, and whether or not Dean can get his hands on some pyrotechnics of his own (a milk-crate full, in lieu of a week's under-the-table payment at the local body shop; good thing peanut butter's cheap).

His father would probably have words about how he'd appreciate it if Dean would apply the same dedication to researching a hunt, but he's with Caleb two states over, trying to track down a wendigo in the middle of backwoods nowhere, and this is Dean's one chance to give Sammy a perfect Fourth.

The parade's not quite an hour long, but there's people throwing candy from the back of some very nice old convertibles, and the high school's cheerleading squad does flips in front of where he and Sam are eating very melty fudgesicles Dean nicked from the freezer in one of the empty houses, so it gets a decent score from him. Sam's transfixed, nearly incandescent with happiness. Someone handed him a stars-and-stripes pinwheel while they were walking over, and he doesn't put it down until they're sharing someone's blanket at the church potluck--not even he can manage a sloppy joe one-handed.

That night they'll sort of set a field on fire, but everything is damp still from the previous day's thunderstorm so it won't spread, and Sam's smile will shine so bright Dean would be willing to burn down an entire state just to get him to smile like that again.

Ficlet: Fun with Phonics [SPN]

For lillian13's prompt: Iceland, volcano, vampire


Most of the motels they stay in are as nondescript as an old shoebox--just finger-smudged white drywall, with a couple faded floral prints in cheap frames that are probably intended to break up the blank monotony but instead just highlight how dingy everything's become; obnoxious geometric patterns on the bedspreads and dubious stains on carpet last cleaned about the same time Sam started thinking of this kind of dump as 'home'. The TV's supposedly got cable, but it either doesn't work properly or offers twelve channels, three of which are infomercials. If they're lucky, there'll be one that's 'classics' from the 50's and 60's, and the local PBS offering won't haveCollapse )