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Disclaimer: this month's crossovers recs will be taken from Crossover Alphabet Soup. There are lots more fantastic fics, but I can only rec so many!

Rec Category: Crossover
Categories: team, humor, crossover, epside related
Warnings: crossover with Doctor Who
Author on LJ: [personal profile] wishfulaces
Author's Website: unknown
Link: Non-Encounters of the Deeply Weird Kind

Why This Must Be Read: This fic is an utter delight, as Aces treats us to ten different times that SG-1 encountered (or almost encountered) a different incarnation of Doctor Who. The ficlets arc through all the seasons, and of course it's not linear -- after alll, there's time travel involved!

The excerpt below is from 1969 (both the ep and the year!), but these are all great fun. So go read and enjoy a romp through the years of SG-1!


"Why did you ingest that substance if you knew it would cause you trouble?" Teal'c asked.

"Because I haven't gotten high since college," she confessed. And then only a couple times, during an experimental phase that had also involved mixing various alcoholic beverages together. (That phase had not ended pleasantly.) "And if I'm gonna be stuck in 1969? I want to enjoy at least some of it." It had been a moment of weakness with Michael and Jenny, while the colonel was off reconnoitering; but then, she was pretty sure O'Neill had also imbibed a little himself on the sly yesterday in the van, when he was up front in the passenger seat keeping Michael company. She leant over to poke Daniel, who was happily curled up and snoring in the other booth at their table in a Chicago diner. "At least I stayed awake long enough to get our pancakes."

"Daniel Jackson appears not as capable of handling this substance as you," Teal'c observed.

"Nah," Sam said, sitting back on their side of the table and closing her eyes. "He just had a lot more than me. I think the last time he got high was in grad school. Unless it was with Skaara on Abydos." She shook her head and stood up. "I need air. Maybe that'll clear my senses." She knew it probably wouldn't, but if it gave her the semblance of some sort of control before the colonel showed up, she would be happy.

She left the diner and walked around into the alley next to it, taking deep breaths of the humid summer. Not nearly as clarifying, she thought wryly, as a cold December wind would have been. There was a big blue box at the end of the alley. She wandered toward it out of a faint sense of curiosity.

Clattering noises, and Sam turned around to find three people barreling toward her. She had a confused impression of a middle-aged man in a bowtie with sad eyes, a young man in a kilt, a girl in a startling silver catsuit. "Excuse us, so sorry, do pardon!" the older man called, the two younger people chiming in their own apologies. They sounded English, the young man in the kilt Scottish. They threw themselves into the blue box, slamming the door shut behind them, and then--

"Oh boy," Sam said, staring in wide-eyed shock as the box made a strange elephantine noise and disappeared.

May 2025

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