The Crew Gets a Cook
Badger makes a suggestion, Mal makes good on an old promise, and Maisie the Cook (played by Margaret Cho) makes her home on Serenity.
"Waal, she sure is cute enough, but jeez, Mal. Don't you think we're getting over populated by womenfolk here? I mean I like women 'smuch as any guy--more, even." Jayne's face, first petulant, lit up for a moment. "But we got ourselves a powerful preponderance of the female kind on crew already. And this one," looking sideways toward the kitchen, "got more 'n' a touch of the crazy in my humble opinion."
"Her name's Maisie, Jayne, and I didn't see you complaining while you were shoveling down the chow. So quit your whining and just appreciate that I've finally come through on an age-old promise to add a cook to this motley crew." Mal crossed his arms and looked satisfied. "And she seems stable enough to me. Granted-" he held his hand up to Jayne's sputtering-- "Granted, anyone comes recommended by Badger, gotta keep an eye out. But I think it's working out mighty shiny so far. So we'll hear no more gripin'. Just keep your distance if she makes you uneasy. Sure enough she feels the same 'bout you."
"Bloody hell, Boss. Grub's gone south since you shipped Maisie off with the scroungers. What's the use of training up one of our fine dancing ladies to be a cook, if you just up and let her scarper?" Marley tossed his fork on the table and pushed his chair back, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Manners, manners, mate." Badger's voice was mild but there was a glint in his eye. "It's all part of the plan. It's about time we made this uneasy alliance a bit more easy on our end. And there ain't no-one can do easy like Our Maisie. She's already sussed out their com system and found a few hidey-holes that'll be good to know of next time they do a run for us. And if we can get her to work her wiles on one of 'em...or more...." His mouth twisted in amusement. "Well then we just might find ourselves with a loverly little Firefly at our disposal." He took a bite of food, and his expression turned to disgust. "But you're right about one thing, mate. Time to start training another of our dancers in the fine culinary arts." He too pushed back from the table, and, clapping his bowler on his head, headed out the door.
Theme: "Did I Fall Asleep?"
I. Prompt 002. Bonfire--Firefly
Fic and Picspam (270 words, 35 caps = 5 + 35 points = 40 points)
( The night sky was full of sparks and flashes... )
II. Prompt 092. Shadow--Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Fic and Picspam -- 246 words, 38 caps (including 2 caps used as background) = 5 + 38 points = 43 points
( “My very own recipe!” Xander said as ... )
III. Prompt 094. Fall (Firefly)
Fic and Picspam -- 194 words, 45 caps (including 2 caps used as background) = 5 + 45 points = 50 points
( Mal gasped as he felt himself falling... )
IV. Prompt 046. Crush -- Dr. Horrible
Fic and Picspam -- 262 words, 40 caps = 5 + 40 points = 45 points
( Well, so, I’ve been thinking about this, and he’s wrong. )
[Screencaps by Emma-Jane, Can't Take the Sky, and Screencaps,org]
Original Character Dr. Rance McGrew, Plastic Surgeon
Word Count 500
Screened or unscreened? Unscreened
Note For pirateveronica --explained at the end. And, for a fic challenge at whedonland , to write a story with an Original Character.
Fic (or link to):
Adelle picked up her drink and stared through the thick glass and amber liquid at her office, picture windows looking out into the night. She took a swig, closed her eyes, and let the memories surface…
The clinking of bottles and the murmur of bar chatter swirl around her as she savors the whisky, trying to tamp down the rising anxiety…or rather, anticipation. Surely he should be here by now? A hand drops on her shoulder and she spins around on the barstool. “Sorry I’m late, babe.” She looks up and her lips part in a smile as he bends down and presses his mouth avidly against hers. She rises up off the stool and urges her full length against him, irresistibly drawn. He pulls out of the kiss, tilts back his head, and looks at her lazily through golden eyelashes. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, lifting his fingers to brush her cheek. “No need for any of my skillful ministrations.” As his lips again drop towards hers, she feels her blood surge. But with one small, ruthless part of her mind she’s thinking how lucky she is to have a plastic surgeon as a lover. Could certainly come in handy some day.
The scene shifts, and she’s looking down at her lover—former lover—lying on the reclining chair under a strong light, in a dark room. Beside her, the slight woman in a white coat touches her arm. “He won't feel any pain,” she says softly. “You know this was the only way to save him. He was a great man, and was lost, but now he can be found again.”
Adelle feels her eyes turn to ice. She twists her lips and moves imperceptibly away from the other’s touch. “Yes, indeed. I have no qualms. The procedure was fully tested; it was time to put it into action. And what could be more appropriate than taking out a psychotic slasher?” Her lips untwist and her jaw sets firmly.
The young doctor moves to the side table and picks up a pen. “It seems odd, since he’s the only one, but I’ll ID him anyway. You know, protocol.” She essays a small laugh, but her smile fades as she looks at the vinyl-coated wristband. Her eyes flicker over, uneasily. “What name…I…”
Adelle lets out a harsh breath. “Well, we can hardly call him Dr. Rance McGrew while he’s shuffling around in pyjamas, waiting to be imprinted with a different personality every day. And it seems ill luck to call him by his more recent alias.” She feels a clutch at her heart, a momentary panic, then reasserts. “Either would be incongruous.” She thinks for a moment. “He is our number one,” she says, her voice suddenly soft as she reaches, almost involuntarily, toward the still figure. “The First. We’ll call him…Alpha.” She turns on her stiletto heel and strides out of the room before she can see the doctor wrap the band around the pale wrist and set the glowing scanner around the red-gold hair.
Author's Note: This vignette is especially for pirateveronica , because during Bingo I promised an Adelle/Alpha if those two came up in the next round. (Of course they didn't, but anyway.) This isn't quite that, but it's as close as I'm going to get for now.
Firefly, Dark and Light
Summary: Everyone – and everything – has a dark side, and a light side.
Note: For the scifiland challenge Come to the Dark Side. 1000+ words + 20 icons = 40 points. This didn't come out quite as I would have liked, but you get the idea.
( Not flying, not floating, but not still, just … not. )
Note: For the challenge at scifiland . Valentine's Day on Serenity. Who's Cupid? (Old-fashioned Valentine's cards herein.)
Even though, as River had noted, the concept of “days” and “months” was irrelevant to Life in the Black (or, as she put it, "a vestigial mode of time measurement based on solar cycles … not applicable"), there was always someone that kept them on some version of an Old Earth calendar, bringing in the half-remembered holidays from multiple cultures like faded photographs, memories in bits and pieces.
So, as it got closer to what they thought would be February 14th, it was so declared to celebrate the day of Saint Valentine, whose history and provenance were unknown, but whose legacy survived, somewhat. From their diverse and collective memory, they conjured up a list that included: chocolate, heart-shaped bits of paper, fat naked babies with wings and mysteriously inclined bows and arrows, and romance.
( Kaylee proposed... )
Hot and Cold
Threesome: Kaylee Frye/Zoe Washburne/Malcolm Reynolds
Requested Element: engine trouble
Warning: Implied sexual activity
Note: Written for I Saw Three Ships Secret Santa 2009 for Glinda
( “Tianna, it’s hot in here.” Zoe pulled off her leather vest and yanked at the hem of her blouse... )
Word count: 560
“Small fandom? Small?” She looked around the battered table, her eyes on fire. “We have one of the biggest fandoms EVER! They have a name! Hasn’t anyone heard of the Brown-"
The lovely woman opposite her widened her eyes and interrupted gently, “It’s probably not so much the size as the age. After all, we've been off for seven years. We’re neither a current show, nor a blockbuster, so—" The other woman tossed her hair and rolled her eyes. “But still. Small! Small! I—"
The woman seated next to her laid a hand on her arm. “Never mind, sweetie. It’s no matter." A shout from the other room made her turn. "Hey, baby! You two okay out there?" There was a muffled "yeah" and a squeal of laughter, and she turned back to the table, smiling.
The burly man across from her laughed. “Hell, it's not like Morpheus can't handle a three year old, right?" He craned his neck to look across the soundstage, shook his head, and turned back to the still-fuming younger woman. "C’mon girl, let it go. Let’s just enjoy the here and now.” He stretched out his legs and smiled complacently at the others. “And despite the profligate actions of the current Presidential administration, I for one..."
"Wait a minute," commanded the red-haired man at the head of the table. "Profligate? What are you saying? Do you know that under the PREVIOUS administration, federal spending skyroc-"
"Now now, boys, settle down," said the grey-haired man returning from the buffet table. He set down his mug of green tea and took a seat. "Let's try to stay away from politics." The burly man laughed, raised his fists to the red-head, and continued. "AS I was saying, I for one can relax and enjoy the pleasures of regular work and a season two.”
“Did someone say ‘Season Two’?” A voice at the door, mellifluous.
“Ah, our erstwhile leader.” The red-haired man gestured with a welcoming wave. “’Bout time you got here. Dragged you away from the mystery writing, crime solving, and adoring fans?” The man at the door quirked a grin, grabbed a chair, and straddle-sat. “Nah, just in from a literacy project fundraiser. And you? On a break from the movie-making?”
The redhead winked at the doe-eyed woman. "Hoping to get another guest shot on V." The newcomer nodded toward her. "Startin' up again in January, eh? Speaking of second seasons. Love the hair, by the way. Short suits you!" She smiled her thanks and fluttered her hand, as he looked around the room, nodding to each person like a family familiar. "Where's our brother-sister duo?"
"Seems she dragged him to an animal cruelty demonstration up in Ventura." The young woman grinned, her anger gone. "I guess she's gettin' through to him. When we were on Warehouse, he was talking some about it." Her eyes glowed charitably, and she looked happily around the table. "It sure is fine being together like this."
The latecomer nodded, and with a slight air of authority hitched his chair forward. "Sure is. Still and all, let's get a move on. We can catch them up when they get here. So, the business at hand." He cleared his throat and stared forward, intently. "Now what the HELL are we going to get for Joss's birthday this year?"
The heat and the stench are overwhelming. Running across field at night, blinded by flashes, deafened by explosions, numbed by the cries of the falling comrades. Dropping down into vermin-filled trenches, the smell of blood and bodies decaying...ducking, gasping, suffocating...
And bursting up into consciousness, jolted into the harsh afternoon light, eyes blinking against the sun dappling through the grimy window. Oh. Disheveled sheets. Crappy room. Empty bottles on the table. Massive headache.
She winces, then shrugs. One hell or the other.
Suddenly, a sound near the door cuts through the haze and shocks her into alertness. She jumps to her feet and grabs for her gun on the bedstand with one hand, clutching the sheet to her body with the other.
"Whoa whoa whoa hold on!" Hands in air, eyes round, poised. Mal. Relief turns to anger as she drops the gun on the bed, wraps the sheet tighter, and glares. "What the ruttin' hell you doin', sneaking in here like that?!"
When she tells the story years later, laughing around the battered dining table, she'll say: "I don’t know. I woke up and he was there, in my room, drunk, babbling, not making sense."
But at the time she can see he's more giddy than drunk, less mindful than she'd expect that he'd almost got himself shot by his own partner. His eyes are bright, his words spilling out, even as he forgets to lower his hands but gabbles out some fong-le tale. "...You'll see, Zoe, she's amazing. Of course she's got a few problems, needs a little tinkering. But she's gonna save us, Zoe. Get us out of this life, out into the Black. She, she, she looks like freedom."
She can feel his excitement flowing around her, and despite her hangover and almost total incomprehension of what he's on about, finds herself leaning forward, wanting to understand. She? A woman? No, he's saying something about a shipyard. A ship? A Firefly?
He sees her expression and mistakes it for doubt. Realizing he still has his hands raised, he turns them, and spreads them wide. "She's gonna save us, Zoe. I just know it." He cocks a grin. "I swear to you, by my own stunning good looks and towering ego, that I'm not lying to you."
She sighs, and moves to grab her clothes from the chair, rolling her eyes at the thought of following another of Mal's crazy schemes. But somewhere inside, she feels a faint stirring. Maybe, of hope.
Summary: For fantas_magoria , episode Ted, The Captain & Tennille Prompt. I know this is another silly one, but I couldn’t help imagining a romantic scene all made up of song titles. Most of the songs are in the playlist at the bottom. If you don't want all Captain & Tennille, some versions are by other people.
Xander: Who was the real power? The Captain, or Tennille?
Buffy: Ummm... Who are these people?
Xander: The Captain and Tennille? Boy, somebody was raised in a culture-free environment!
( Can you imagine the scene? )
Summary: Crossover with Reaper (Season 2 premieres March 3!) in which Sam Oliver and his friends capture Escaped Souls from Hell in everyday vessels, and turn them in to the DMV, which is a Portal of Hell staffed by the demon Gladys. For fantas_magoria , What’s My Line I.
Author’s Note: Crossovers are hard! All Reaper is inspired by the crew at reaperdmv . All Buffy is thanks to the fantastic fantasmagorians. It’s nice to be back!
( ...you could've had a bright future... )
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. PG. Season Two, episode When She Was Bad.
Disclaimer: Gain nothing except the urge to try something new.
Summary: She's never been so afraid. For the wonderful comm fantas_magoria. Okay, so it's not really a good poem. Think of it as a short fic with odd line spacing.
( Fear...is in slow motion... )
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. PG. Season One.
Words: Around 1,000.
Disclaimer: Gain nothing except inspiration.
Summary: After saving the world from the Master, the gang troops off to the Spring Fling. What happens? References to Out of Sight, Out of Mind; Nightmares; and Prophecy Girl.
A/N: For the wonderful comm fantas_magoria . Wrapping up the last three episodes of Season One. All music is from (roughly) sophomore year, 1996-97. I know, songfic, ugh, but here I think it fits? Plus, I'm feeling sentimental. Full playlist of 40 songs here.( Play the songs! )
Summary: Four short fics; four men and books. Apologies for loose interpretation of the text. And of some of the characters, who by the way I do not own or gain from, except (belated) inspiration. For fantas_magoria , using several of the prompts, to catch up on four episodes at once.
( A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is / To meet an antique book )
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Summary: For prompt #211 at ff_friday . It’s the last line.
He puts down the recorder, trying to hide his sudden nervousness. The good, warm feeling that had filled his chest at his success—and the thought of the reward money—chills in the fix of the Suit’s ice-blue stare.
He pushes down the rising, inexplicable panic with a small joke: “...didn’t do your job for you...” The second Suit strides forward, pulling something out of his breast pocket. A click; two blue rods flick out from either side of his fist. Some Alliance-type interrogation device? He tries another pleasantry. "I'm not even going to ask what you're doing with that."
Word count: 200
Disclaimer: Don't own anything
Note: For firefly100 , prompt: "right." Originally for femslash100 , for the 2008 International Day of Femslash, prompt: "Firefly--Inara/Zoe, slip."