[lots of stuff]
For While We Tell Of Yuletide Treasure I wrote Worlds Enough and Time, an NC17 Angel/Smallville(/Sandman) crossover for little Alex and Stupid Bloody Tuesday, a Doom Patrol fic for Alara Rogers that steals heavily from the Beatles.
There are too many good fics to recommend them all, so you should just read through the Yuletide archive.
Also, drabbles: for the hp100 first signs of magic challenge, the other sister ; the wednesday100 challenge was past challenges, so I went back and did all the ones I missed, four here and five more below:
For the between Exodus and Exile challenge:
In The Between
The clinic food is bland and they keep her half-doped, but every morning her wheelchair faces the sun and Rachel's happy enough.
The porter brings her breakfast and the morning paper and she reads about a string of mysterious robberies, and about the loss of the Luthor heir, and when the porter says "Sad, isn't it?" she nods an agreement but she isn't really worried or sad.
The blond porter, in his wrong sized uniform, kneels by her chair and puts his hand on hers. They both smile.
Rachel isn't sad. Sooner or later, the lost boys always come home.
~ *~
For the islandfic challenge.
This Island Earth
He's been alone for years when he gives up, when he finally lets go. Asia burns. Europe rots. South America is a graveyard. He buried each of them by hand in perfectly straight rows and he used to keep them neatly tended, but nothing grows here anymore. There is no water to clean the earth, no breeze to shake the dust, no whispers to brush the ashes. He rises on a thought above it, his small home shrinking away to nothing. Alone on the shores of night, he stretches his hands out towards the distant stars and lets himself fall.
~*~
For the song challenge, vaguely written to Jet's "Timothy"
At Voyage's End
Martha had closed the door halfway, meaning to leave. Instead she stood watching the black haired boy sleep curled up in a blue blanket on the makeshift bed and, with her hand over her mouth, cried silently.
"Martha?" asked Jonathan, coming up behind her. "Is he asleep?" He saw her wipe at her cheeks. "Martha? What's wrong?"
"It's just, he was out there, all that way, all by himself; he--" She turned into his embrace. "Oh, Jonathan; he must have been so lonely."
Jonathan shushed her, smoothing her hair over and over.
"It's okay, Martha. It's okay. He's home now."
~*~
For the therapy challenge
Sleeper, Awaken
"I don't know what you expect, Mister Luthor. Cyrus Krup had a complete mental breakdown. His body is here, but his mind is somewhere else entirely."
"He's just waiting for a call," said Lionel, not looking away from the figure slumped on his back on the bed. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Oh! Uh, yes." The man hurried out.
With a small smile, Lionel pulled a box from his jacket. Taking out the small, polished rock, he placed it on Cyrus's chest and crossed the boys hands over it.
"Spaceman, come home."
The rock shone green. Cyrus's hands began to glow white.
~*~
For the thanksgiving challenge
Thank You, Mister Kent
"Clark."
"Is someone there?"
"Your friends, Clark."
"...Greg?"
"We just wanted to thank you."
"Ryan? But you--"
"Thanks for letting me freeze, Clark."
"Sean, you--"
"Thank you for driving my family out of their home."
"No, Amy--"
"Thank you, Clark, for that pole in my chest."
"Tina! Stay back!"
"But you didn't, Clark."
"Please! I don't want to hurt you."
"Too late! Don't run, Clark. We just want to thank you for everything you did to us."
A rush of green.
~
Morning came.
"Clark! It's time to get up!" Martha pushed open the door. "Clark?"
But the room was empty.
There are too many good fics to recommend them all, so you should just read through the Yuletide archive.
Also, drabbles: for the hp100 first signs of magic challenge, the other sister ; the wednesday100 challenge was past challenges, so I went back and did all the ones I missed, four here and five more below:
For the between Exodus and Exile challenge:
In The Between
The clinic food is bland and they keep her half-doped, but every morning her wheelchair faces the sun and Rachel's happy enough.
The porter brings her breakfast and the morning paper and she reads about a string of mysterious robberies, and about the loss of the Luthor heir, and when the porter says "Sad, isn't it?" she nods an agreement but she isn't really worried or sad.
The blond porter, in his wrong sized uniform, kneels by her chair and puts his hand on hers. They both smile.
Rachel isn't sad. Sooner or later, the lost boys always come home.
~ *~
For the islandfic challenge.
This Island Earth
He's been alone for years when he gives up, when he finally lets go. Asia burns. Europe rots. South America is a graveyard. He buried each of them by hand in perfectly straight rows and he used to keep them neatly tended, but nothing grows here anymore. There is no water to clean the earth, no breeze to shake the dust, no whispers to brush the ashes. He rises on a thought above it, his small home shrinking away to nothing. Alone on the shores of night, he stretches his hands out towards the distant stars and lets himself fall.
~*~
For the song challenge, vaguely written to Jet's "Timothy"
At Voyage's End
Martha had closed the door halfway, meaning to leave. Instead she stood watching the black haired boy sleep curled up in a blue blanket on the makeshift bed and, with her hand over her mouth, cried silently.
"Martha?" asked Jonathan, coming up behind her. "Is he asleep?" He saw her wipe at her cheeks. "Martha? What's wrong?"
"It's just, he was out there, all that way, all by himself; he--" She turned into his embrace. "Oh, Jonathan; he must have been so lonely."
Jonathan shushed her, smoothing her hair over and over.
"It's okay, Martha. It's okay. He's home now."
~*~
For the therapy challenge
Sleeper, Awaken
"I don't know what you expect, Mister Luthor. Cyrus Krup had a complete mental breakdown. His body is here, but his mind is somewhere else entirely."
"He's just waiting for a call," said Lionel, not looking away from the figure slumped on his back on the bed. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Oh! Uh, yes." The man hurried out.
With a small smile, Lionel pulled a box from his jacket. Taking out the small, polished rock, he placed it on Cyrus's chest and crossed the boys hands over it.
"Spaceman, come home."
The rock shone green. Cyrus's hands began to glow white.
~*~
For the thanksgiving challenge
Thank You, Mister Kent
"Clark."
"Is someone there?"
"Your friends, Clark."
"...Greg?"
"We just wanted to thank you."
"Ryan? But you--"
"Thanks for letting me freeze, Clark."
"Sean, you--"
"Thank you for driving my family out of their home."
"No, Amy--"
"Thank you, Clark, for that pole in my chest."
"Tina! Stay back!"
"But you didn't, Clark."
"Please! I don't want to hurt you."
"Too late! Don't run, Clark. We just want to thank you for everything you did to us."
A rush of green.
~
Morning came.
"Clark! It's time to get up!" Martha pushed open the door. "Clark?"
But the room was empty.