You cannot grasp the true form of Giygas' attack.
When good battles evil, which side do you believe wins?
20th-Nov-2011 09:23 am - Art by Steff-lady
Because she's brilliant. ♥

Guy & Longfellow )
kalijean: (Default)
Title: One Single Try
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Frannie/Dewey, Elaine, Vecchio, Mort, Welsh, Turnbull, Thatcher, Huey
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4421
Notes: After the Shades arc. This story absorbs Never Where and was written in part by [ profile] sl_walker. Title with gratitude to Frank Sinatra.
Summary: There's only so long someone can hide a pregnancy.

"You've gotta do it, Frannie. I know you're stuck in some kinda denial, but while you're trying to figure out how the Hell this happened, that baby doesn't care how, he's growing, ready or not--"

Frannie's eyes were squeezed shut and she felt stupidly exposed, even if she was the only person who could hear Elaine down the phone. She knew that. How could she not know that? It was her body that had a no vacancy sign up. She tapped the pencil manically on her desk, honest to God trying not to snap a friend's head off.

What's going on? You all look like a Pak'ma'ra just ate your cat. )
kalijean: (RayV & Fraser)
31st-Aug-2011 08:07 pm - Fic: Call (Due South, G)
Title: Call
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Turnbull, Thatcher, Buck Frobisher, Benton Fraser, Ray Kowalski, Myra Turnbull, the Turnbull family
Rating: G
Words: 2180
Notes: After COTW. Written in part by [ profile] sl_walker and encouraged/brainstormed a great deal more ♥
Summary: '...Constable Turnbull decided to run for public office. But his campaign got off to a rocky start...'

If Turnbull was too young to die, he had to wonder about the man he shot off his snowmobile.

It was an idle thought. Very honestly, he thought he felt nothing about having killed the man, something he'd been matter-of-factly informed of not long before. He'd never killed anyone before. Of course it had always been a remote possibility; one accepted when he became a police officer. But it was by no means a given.

The man was shooting at him. At people he cared for.

It was a simple matter, and Turnbull felt nothing.

You know, I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair, and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them? So, now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe. )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
30th-Aug-2011 09:52 pm - Snippet: One-up
Turnbull, Kowalski; Arch To The Sky; PG; 673 words. Inspired by the discussion in "Luigi" and encouraged by Steff.

What was that awful noise?

Someone appeared to have set up an arcade in his consulate foyer, and Turnbull was not especially pleased with this. He wandered out, duty smile fixed even so, to find Detective 'Vecchio' engrossed in a small gaming system. Volume cranked no doubt to the maximum.

Is there a reason for this or should I just go ahead and snap your hands off at the wrist? )
kalijean: (Fraser and Ray)
21st-Aug-2011 08:28 pm
Steff-lady's art ♥

Guy & Longfellow )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
19th-Aug-2011 02:34 pm - Ficlet: Silver
Turnbull, Thatcher; Arch To The Sky; G; 258 words.

By virtue of his administrative role, Turnbull was aware of the birthdays of the people he worked with. He kept private information private, of course; he was nothing if not trustworthy.

That didn't mean he wouldn't use it privately, however.

Openly gifting Inspector Thatcher with anything was a dubious prospect. The Inspector had an understandable wariness when it came to such things, and the one time Turnbull had sent her flowers anonymously had backfired spectacularly, given attentions from other quarters. Still; on her birthday, he would try.

His art group was useful for more than the occupation of his off-time, occasionally, and the chance to work in other artistic mediums when it came could be quite stimulating. One gentleman had experience in jewelry-making; a delicate discipline, the closest to which Turnbull had ever gotten being childhood grassweaving. He had been grateful to expand the area of experience.

The hair slide was very pretty, if he did say so himself.

It was made of delicate silver wire, wound in a conservative curve and spot-welded in more silver to the slide frame.

There was a precise kind of satisfaction to having seen it come together, and another sort to having wrapped it. Thatcher could be unforgiving of jaunts into her office while she was not present, but he left it on her desk as he cleaned. Unsigned. Anonymous.

He wasn't there for her reaction, and neither did he see her wear the gift, but several days later he found a prim thank you note upon his desk and smiled.
kalijean: (Turnbull & Thatcher)
18th-Aug-2011 08:54 pm - Fic: Blither (Due South, G)
Title: Blither
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Bob Fraser, Turnbull; appearances by Benton Fraser, Thatcher, RayK
Rating: G
Words: 3094
Timeline: Canon.
Summary: In a moment of pique, Bob jumps ship to a different Mountie.
Notes: Yes, Bob has his own misogynistic moments. XD Still working on mood themes. ♥ Wanted to get this out while it was in my head.

"You know, son, you should be nicer to that boy. You can blither with the best of them, yourself."

"I deal with Constable Turnbull in an even-handed manner. And I do not blither."

"Oh, yes you do. I should know, son. We can smell our own."

The Babylon project was our last, best hope for peace. failed. )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
13th-Aug-2011 09:55 pm - Fic: That's Life (Due South - NC-17)
Title: That's Life
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Francesca/Dewey, Maria, RayV
Rating: NC-17 (not terribly graphic)
Words: 3820
Timeline: September 1998, and then retrospect from April. After the Shades arc.
Summary: The story of Francesca's 'immaculate' conception and several other things she never expected.
Notes: Did you think I couldn't do het? ;) I know I owe commissions and I'm working on those too, guys. <3 Braindead from work, and I finally just finished this after working on it for weeks (with Steff's loving encouragement).

September, 1998

Frannie traced her profile in the mirror and waited to feel something.

Fancy math had gone out the window a month or so ago, but at least she could've had hope. Turnbull had been so sweet before. In a few sentences she knew that God had been trying to tell her the solution was in front of her the whole time, she just couldn't see it. She knew once she had her foot back in that door he'd take everything that came with her with open arms. It was like something out of the movies; good guy rolled off Turnbull in waves, or so she thought. She could've gotten that proposal. Been married in time.

If the Mountie hadn't been gay for her brother.

She dropped her nightshirt and wiped her face when she heard Maria in the hallway.

Nothing left to try now. Too late. She might as well not be alone anymore.


Take my advice and go back to the time you came from. The future isn't what it used to be. )
kalijean: (RayV &amp; Fraser)
9th-Aug-2011 10:15 am - Fic: Nicknames
Turnbull/Vecchio; Arch To The Sky; NC-17; 327 words. Here be porn; written for [ profile] sl_walker to the prompt 'Detective Walks Funny' (with love to [ profile] elf_fu).

Suddenly, I looked up and this beautiful dancer is leaning down over the stage, and looking right into my eyes. And she said: 'Whatever it is, it can't be that bad.' And then she kissed me, right here. )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
Title: Inapparent Points
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Guy Laurent, Renfield Turnbull
Rating: PG
Words: 2221
Timeline: Early Nipawin, 1991
Summary: An early day in Guy's Nipawin.

I have already trained the bartender to the precise order of my drinks.

The bar was the natural place to gravitate; the town of Nipawin is notable for an inadvisable multitude of churches. It is not that I have a low opinion of religion. Everything is fine in moderation - I realize this sentiment is rather comedic coming from me - and whatever the indulgence, it should be balanced. It is a fine bar. I like to hope that what happens here will balance proportionately to the amount of religion going about.

Dull. Muffled. Slower now. Closer now. Over your shoulder. It comes. The transition. A shadow. The long exhalation of the spirit. Can you see it, healer? )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
The last of our rounds of one-line prompts, and once again just about everyone from Mike Chase to Diefenbaker turns up in here.

Part I - Part II - Part III

Read more... )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
1st-Aug-2011 06:15 pm - Fic: Never Where (Due South, G)
Title: Never Where
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Characters: Vecchio, Mort, and ?
Rating: G
Words: 402
Timeline: After the Shades arc.
Summary: In which we learn four things Mort should know and one place he never was.
Notes: Yep, we really are COTW-compliant. :D

For each time he passed, Ray Vecchio remained leaned nonchalantly against a drawer in Mort's morgue, taking small bites of a sandwich that was not rapidly disappearing.

Each time Mort passed, he chose not to bother the man. Who was he to critique a man's choice of lunchtime locale? Not Mort. He often ate there. The morgue was quiet and comfortable. It was somewhat unusual for another person to share his opinion of that, but he wasn't a man to judge.

Curiosity grew, but it wasn't until he heard a distinct thunk from behind the man that Mort stopped, backtracking to look at him.

'Then, if you'll excuse me, but I'm in the middle of 15 things, all of them annoying. Thank you for coming by.' )
kalijean: (RayV &amp; Fraser)
Here are the one-line prompts Steff and I exchanged a couple of days ago. This is only about half; another page to come ♥

Pretty much every character is represented yet again, from Gardino to Stella to Longfellow to Turnbull to Hell, even James Lennox.

Part I - Part II - Part III

There are two NC-17 ones in here, they'll be in white font, highlight to read!

Read more... )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
26th-Jul-2011 08:24 pm - Myra & Renfield Turnbull
[ profile] sl_walker is way too good to me, and commissioned a piece of art from [ profile] lashia69 for me!

The art is gorgeous and I love it to pieces. Myra in her 70's dress :D

and you may find my amazing gift under here )
kalijean: (Default)
Myra, Turnbull; Arch To The Sky; G; 200 words.


His uniform had taken home a sizable amount of Lake Michigan.

Renfield had taken home Ray.

Tony had brought Ray's clothes. There was a part of Renfield that was disappointed for that; clothing him from his own drawers felt like another layer he could impress between Ray and the open world. If Tony had an opinion on the whole mess beyond a shrug and a low whistle, he didn't offer it. Renfield had just tried not to think about who would've provided Tony with his address.

The divide between the letter he'd gotten and the reply he wanted to send now seemed impossible to bridge. He forced it anyway.

Dearest Myra,

Please likewise forgive the delay in my response. You are right; I am happy for this news. I am honored that you would name a son for me.

It was not long after I took possession of your letter that Ray and I became unexpectedly public. In some quarters, the matter became confrontational. Ray is now estranged from his family.

I am uncertain of when I will see you. I would be grateful for your updates when you have them.

Give my best to John.

kalijean: (fire)
12th-Jul-2011 07:48 pm - Fic: Dearest Renfield - Due South - G
Myra, Turnbull; Arch To The Sky; G; 221 words. Immediately before Crickets.


Dearest Renfield,

I have read over your letter several times since its arrival. I am sorry for the delay in my last response; I know you have forgiven me, but I feel the need to reiterate as I regret that my reply arrived too late to ease your mind. As a child you often bounded ahead of me to seek your own path. I am happy to see the trend continues.

Your letter had an unusual lengthy quality, Renfield. One might suspect another man of gushing. I am only teasing, of course; you have told me much about this Ray of yours, but I would like to hear still more. It was a relief. Forgive my candor, but you have been quiet these past few years. It would seem this man is good for you.

You have my heartfelt blessings, Renfield. I want to meet your Ray.

I have delayed the completion of this letter for the sake of certain tests. We have discovered today that I will be adding another set of twins to the Turnbull family. This was unexpected. I am working to accept this news. I know that you will be happy.

Should I have sons, one will indeed be named for you.

I will update you again soon.

All my love.

kalijean: (Turnbull)
Title: Disseminated
Fandom: Due South; Arch to the Sky
Pairing: Turnbull/Vecchio
Rating: PG
Words: 543
Timeline: Right after Out.
Summary: Rumors fly as everyone tries to adjust.



"I heard she punched him in the nose."


"Yeah. Apparently he walked out of here with it bleeding all over his uniform. And he was crying."

"Sounds like him."

Read more... )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
31st-Jan-2011 07:57 am - Fic: Fifteen (Turnbull, G)
Fic: Fifteen
Characters: Renfield Turnbull, Myra, Mr. & Mrs. Turnbull
Words: 3428
Rating: G
Summary: Renfield missed Myra more as each day passed, but he couldn't make himself apologize.
Notes: Age 15. Another for the childhood files.

Renfield spun on the ice, watching the blur of the world go by.

He was graceful there, though he didn't know it. There were many things he didn't know. A great many, according to his sister, and while he felt decidedly errant being out here and not with her, attempting to patch the matter up, attempting to placate her or prove himself to her or at least...

At least get that awful hurt look off her face.Yes, yes, Zathras is used to being beast of burden to other people's needs. Very sad life. Probably have very sad death, but at least there is symmetry. Go, go, Zathras take care. )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
30th-Jan-2011 11:35 pm - Fic: Sink (Turnbull, G)
Fic: Sink
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Turnbull
Rating: G
Words: 453
Summary: In the absence of information, Turnbull thinks.
Notes: Early 1993, Nipawin, SK. Written in this fic-verse.

Turnbull brushed back and forth in the snow.

Something was wrong. He sensed it on a level he couldn't name, some deep sense of wrongness for which he had no true evidence. It niggled at him. Ate away.

Every time he asked, Mark's answer was even more emphatically 'no'. More annoyed, too. Turnbull dreaded the annoyance. Nothing made him feel quite so useless as that tone.

The sound of it ached. Something sharp and dull at the same time, like using hands overworked from repetitive motion. Itchy. Sore. Oversensitive, and yet he still had to use them. He still had to ask, and work the surface more raw with every answer.

He felt it bodily, too. Turnbull never knew why it was like that for him; emotional wrings felt so much on the surface, like he'd fallen on the ice and tumbled onto his back. Bruised. Aching muscles. So much so that he didn't feel like curling. He'd rather be anywhere else. Someone would probably figure out he was missing soon. Come to get him.

Or maybe someone would just want the broom he was using.

He'd made a perfect square in the snow, ground underneath about as battered and frozen out as Turnbull felt.

He had to have done something. Or failed to do something. Perhaps his perceptions were failing him; perhaps there was something Mark needed that Turnbull couldn't see. Perhaps Mark didn't even know he needed it. Turnbull had never been good with words when it came to feelings; maybe Mark needed to hear more from him? Maybe he'd heard too much. Perhaps Turnbull was so bad at talking that Mark had grown tired of it.

That would explain the impatience. The distance. Perhaps. Perhaps Mark was just tired of listening to him scramble for words.

Mark was inside. His mind on the game, of course. Turnbull's wouldn't be until he could figure out what it was he was doing wrong.

What kind of awful power had he handed this man that just the ghost of a feeling could knock out Turnbull's ability to curl?

Part of him wished there was some way to take it all back. Steal back that piece of him he'd handed this man and save himself from ever having ruined things in the first place. It was done. He couldn't. Wouldn't, either; he wasn't a coward, and for that matter, he didn't want to think of what he would be if he'd never known the man. He didn't want to lose what it was they had, damaged though it appeared to be.

Turnbull couldn't understand why Mark just wouldn't acknowledge it.

He picked up the brush and slung it, sinking it into a snowbank. The handle stuck out.

It didn't help.

He glanced back toward the building, making sure he wouldn't be seen, and then got up to walk away.
kalijean: (Turnbull)
Fic: Spin
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Guy, Longfellow, Turnbull, Mark
Rating: R (Language, drug use, naked!Guy, naked!Drew...)
Words: 1,774
Summary: A day in the life of Guy Laurent.
Notes: Written in this fic-verse. Takes place in the winter of 1992.

What the Hell time is it anyway?

Ngh. That was some screech, last night. I think I may only remember just how bad it was simply because I can smell it on the carpet.

Not the best place to wake up, no, but there is a reason I chose a place with carpet this thick.

I roll over, blinking off the spin of the room, and right the glasses on my face. Shit. Fuck. They don't fit right. I am groaning as I pull them off to bend them back into shape, an act that negates much of their very purpose; light from the gaps in the curtains is fucking eye-ball searing, and I decide to let them be a little wonky for today.

You seriously expect me to become involved in your sexual olympics? )
kalijean: (Two - Oh SHI--)
10th-Jan-2011 02:20 pm - Fic: Dominoes
Fic: Dominoes
Characters: Renfield Turnbull, Myra
Words: 1667
Rating: G
Summary: One for the childhood files.
Notes: An older Renfield tells a story for someone.

I was asked, very recently, to tell a story. I have mulled for some time since which story to tell. I suppose this one is, in the grand scheme of things, relatively unimportant. However, it is told with love of the memory and love for the one who asks.

To that person: know that you are cared for deeply. Know that when you open this again in the days ahead to recall what I have told you, that I am with you always. And please know that whatever comes, no matter how dark, we may always turn on a light for each other. As is the apparent mantra for those of us in here: faith manages.

When I was roughly six years old, I was gifted with a silly trifle of an object. Wasssaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap-- )

I hope that this story brought a smile to your face. I hope that when you need to smile, you will re-read it. And I hope that you will remember in your darkest hours that you have been a light in mine. I love you.
kalijean: (Turnbull - XD!)
3rd-Jan-2011 07:47 pm - Ficlet: Touch (Turnbull, Vecchio, G)
Fic: Touch
Characters: Turnbull, RayV
Rating: G
Words: 447
Notes: Companion piece to Brush, takes place concurrently.

--you're touching me.

I am somewhat used to your ranting by now. I have yet to understand its purpose; for what reason would a man so often continue doing something he clearly dislikes? It is perhaps an uncharitable thought, but I have to wonder why you don't simply get on with it. Your voice is not unpleasant. I just cannot fathom how one would go about appeasing you. Perhaps the ranting serves a purpose I have yet to divine.

I have nothing but time, standing sentry, and it does not appear as though matters will change any time soon, so I imagine I will figure it out eventually.

I can't say I disagree with your assessment of my current job. I don't suppose you can imagine what I've come from, what came before this. It is all right. Neither, often, can I. I'm rather puzzled you would take the time to rant on my behalf, in any case. Clearly you are feeling harassed enough by your occupation with Constable Fraser. If I could speak, I would assure you that you needn't expend any more on me. You gesticulate wildly and I have a strange sort of interest in your manner of motion at the same time as I have a minor urge to reach out and still your hands simply to see what it is you would do if I did.

I need not, in the end. You are touching me.

My cheeks are numb, but I most certainly feel your touch, and I am taken aback that you would step into my personal space in this fashion. The urge to grab your hands is brighter, now; I want to bat you away, but I do not. Your purpose is clear, and I feel guilt for that urge. I had not forgotten the spitballs, but I could no longer feel them, and as you brush them away the slight sting of dried paper tearing away from skin is given more contrast by the warmth of your fingers.

You rant even now, abrasive words on my behalf that are at odds with the care with which you remove the spitballs. The image of Inspector Thatcher literally punching me in the testicles flits through my mind before everything is halted by your compliment, and the warmth it leaves in my gut is followed quickly by a strange sadness I cannot identify.

I don't quite hear the last thing you say. Later, I will translate the sounds I remember into words and understand, but for now, you have gone.

The wind blows. I am cold, but I remember your compliment.
kalijean: (RayV &amp; Fraser)
Fic: Something Impressive
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Renfield Turnbull, Myra Turnbull
Rating: G
Words: 1253
Summary: Renfield Jacob Turnbull's first Christmas, and his sister would much rather have kept him upstairs.
Notes: Written in this fic-verse. A Christmas gift for [ profile] slwatson, with all my love.

The baby had been there all of a month and a half and Myra was still trying to figure out how he'd ended up stuck to her side instead of their mother's.

Mrs. Turnbull hadn't exactly handed Renfield to Myra. It had just sort of fallen naturally to this arrangement. Babies found the human face fascinating. This, Myra understood intellectually, was a fact of infants the world over. However, the way in which those big blue eyes took in her face as though it were captivating had owned her instantly, and she hadn't really wanted to let him go since.

Her mother seemed content with the arrangement. Myra had been, for several days; giving her brother back for feedings and for the reasonable amount of time a mother should probably spend with her newborn, but whenever there was a spare moment, Myra had the boy in her arms. Often, he slept on her chest.The universe is driven by the complex interaction between three ingredients: matter, energy, and enlightened self-interest. )
kalijean: (Turnbull - Pixel)
Fic: Mark
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Turnbull, Guy, Longfellow, Mark
Rating: PG-13 (Some very hard language in here, and partial nudity at one point)
Words: 3,910
Summary: Turnbull's curling rink comes together. The results are unexpected, to say the least.
Notes: Written in this fic-verse. Takes place over a couple of months in the fall of 1992.


"Guy, I am trusting that is tobacco."

"I'm sure you are."

Renfield Turnbull was in full uniform, standing outside his detachment's building, staring at his defacto best friend and trying not to blow the hat off his own head from frustration.

Guy Laurent took a long drag from his... cigarette... as he lazed against the wall. Thin air? Why is it always thin air? Never fat air, chubby air, mostly-fit-could-stand-lose-a-few-pounds air? )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
20th-Nov-2010 07:46 pm - Fic: Startle (Due South, G)
Fic: Startle
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Turnbull, Guy
Rating: G
Words: 513
Summary: You will see me again. What does that mean, Guy Laurent? Turnbull settles in to his new home in Nipawin just after Depot.
Notes: Written in this fic-verse.

The beady eyes of a stuffed husky kept his spirits up.

I can only conclude that I'm paying off karma at a vastly accelerated rate. )
kalijean: (Turnbull)
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