fandoms 8 and 9
Firefly
Disclaimer: If I'd created Firefly, I'd know all the backstory already and wouldn't be dying of frustration whenever I think about it.
Probably set sometime between the series and the film, though it doesn't really matter.
making a holiday
The voices are singing. River laughs to herself, running her fingers lightly along the bottom of her skirt.
“What’s funny, sweetie?” Kaylee’s voice asks, all sunshine and sugar.
“The singing,” River explains, and Kaylee giggles.
“Honey, that’s not nice,” she reproaches, but the light in her eyes says that she agrees. River smiles up at her.
"It's not a holiday," she says confidingly.
"We've made it one," Kaylee tells her, and presses a small glass into River’s hand. “Just a taste, mind,” she says and River sniffs it, then puts the rim to her lips, letting the honey-sweet wash inside.
"Oh," River says, stars inside and out and the shine is so bright and the voices all around her are singing. Kaylee laughs, and takes her by the hand.
“Let’s join the others,” she tells River, already standing up with the glass back in her own hand, and River follows to where the others are lit orange and black by the shadows from the campfire. Jayne has an empty bottle in his hand and is using it to conduct as Mal and Zoë, helpless with laughter but still loud, are belting out a song that’s making Simon blush. River opens her mouth and sings along, soprano, and the singing stops.
“We've made a holiday,” she stops to tell them. “We’ve made a holiday and this is our anthem,” and Zoë laughs and starts singing again, a different song this time but still just as rude. Mal takes up a tenor line, Jayne roars some sort of tune and they’re all singing, even Simon, and River flows in automatically, merging with them all and watching their voices go up with the smoke to the stars, orange and black but most of all silver.
Red Dwarf
I think this is set sometime in/around season 2 - certainly before they get Kryten permanently, anyway. Ah, Red Dwarf, the show that I watched when I was ten and innocent, and totally failed to understand any of the double entendres...
One Day at a time
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Try to blow a smoke ring.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
“Lister?” Rimmer's voice cut through the haze.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” Rimmer's voice is inquisitive, sarcastic.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Lister exhales a cloud of smoke up towards the
ceiling.
“Creating a health hazard. There are other people on this ship too, you know.”
Lister raises his head to glare at him.
“Yeah, and you’re dead. Your health isn't an issue.” He lets his head thunk down on the deck, which hurts more than he intends it to, and pointedly lights another cigarette.
“I still need to see, Lister, and your cloud of gas is threatening to overwhelm the whole of C deck.”
“Then go to D deck,” Lister tells him. “We’ve got a ship the size of a city between four people, you can be anywhere you want.”
“I refuse to allow myself to be driven out by your repellent habits,” Rimmer announces, stepping close enough to get into his line of sight and glaring at him.
Lister sits up and stubs out the cigarette on the floor.
“Holly, can you tell him not to do that?” Rimmer says.
“What?”
“Use the floor as an ashtray. He’s a human biohazard.”
“Sorry dudes,” Holly says, looking at them both benignly. “It’s my day off.” Rimmer swells up to twice his usual size.
“Day off? You don’t have days off, you’re a computer!”
“That’s discriminatory!” Holly informs him. “I am entitled to downtime, everyone has needs.”
“You had 3 millions years of it!” Rimmer tells him. “How can you possibly think you’re entitled to any more?”
“Hol, who’s flying the ship?” Lister asks. He has sat up now, the cigarette, unheeded, is smouldering on the floor.
"It's on the autopilot,” Holly tells them.
"We don't have an autopilot,” Rimmer says.
"I told the Cat to keep an eye on things,” says Holly, supremely unconcerned.
“You did WHAT?!!” both men scream in unison, and then they are both off and running up to the drive room. Holly nods to himself vaguely, watching as the scutters he had positioned around the corner rush in, taking care of the still-smouldering cigarette and beginning to restore the room to some sort of order. He waits for a while, making a couple of slight course alterations, giving them plenty of time to reach the drive room, or to get distracted by something else along the way. Probably by the Cat, who is, in fact, making a waterfall out of the main stairs.
Crisis averted.
Disclaimer: If I'd created Firefly, I'd know all the backstory already and wouldn't be dying of frustration whenever I think about it.
Probably set sometime between the series and the film, though it doesn't really matter.
making a holiday
The voices are singing. River laughs to herself, running her fingers lightly along the bottom of her skirt.
“What’s funny, sweetie?” Kaylee’s voice asks, all sunshine and sugar.
“The singing,” River explains, and Kaylee giggles.
“Honey, that’s not nice,” she reproaches, but the light in her eyes says that she agrees. River smiles up at her.
"It's not a holiday," she says confidingly.
"We've made it one," Kaylee tells her, and presses a small glass into River’s hand. “Just a taste, mind,” she says and River sniffs it, then puts the rim to her lips, letting the honey-sweet wash inside.
"Oh," River says, stars inside and out and the shine is so bright and the voices all around her are singing. Kaylee laughs, and takes her by the hand.
“Let’s join the others,” she tells River, already standing up with the glass back in her own hand, and River follows to where the others are lit orange and black by the shadows from the campfire. Jayne has an empty bottle in his hand and is using it to conduct as Mal and Zoë, helpless with laughter but still loud, are belting out a song that’s making Simon blush. River opens her mouth and sings along, soprano, and the singing stops.
“We've made a holiday,” she stops to tell them. “We’ve made a holiday and this is our anthem,” and Zoë laughs and starts singing again, a different song this time but still just as rude. Mal takes up a tenor line, Jayne roars some sort of tune and they’re all singing, even Simon, and River flows in automatically, merging with them all and watching their voices go up with the smoke to the stars, orange and black but most of all silver.
Red Dwarf
I think this is set sometime in/around season 2 - certainly before they get Kryten permanently, anyway. Ah, Red Dwarf, the show that I watched when I was ten and innocent, and totally failed to understand any of the double entendres...
One Day at a time
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Try to blow a smoke ring.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light another cigarette.
“Lister?” Rimmer's voice cut through the haze.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” Rimmer's voice is inquisitive, sarcastic.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Lister exhales a cloud of smoke up towards the
ceiling.
“Creating a health hazard. There are other people on this ship too, you know.”
Lister raises his head to glare at him.
“Yeah, and you’re dead. Your health isn't an issue.” He lets his head thunk down on the deck, which hurts more than he intends it to, and pointedly lights another cigarette.
“I still need to see, Lister, and your cloud of gas is threatening to overwhelm the whole of C deck.”
“Then go to D deck,” Lister tells him. “We’ve got a ship the size of a city between four people, you can be anywhere you want.”
“I refuse to allow myself to be driven out by your repellent habits,” Rimmer announces, stepping close enough to get into his line of sight and glaring at him.
Lister sits up and stubs out the cigarette on the floor.
“Holly, can you tell him not to do that?” Rimmer says.
“What?”
“Use the floor as an ashtray. He’s a human biohazard.”
“Sorry dudes,” Holly says, looking at them both benignly. “It’s my day off.” Rimmer swells up to twice his usual size.
“Day off? You don’t have days off, you’re a computer!”
“That’s discriminatory!” Holly informs him. “I am entitled to downtime, everyone has needs.”
“You had 3 millions years of it!” Rimmer tells him. “How can you possibly think you’re entitled to any more?”
“Hol, who’s flying the ship?” Lister asks. He has sat up now, the cigarette, unheeded, is smouldering on the floor.
"It's on the autopilot,” Holly tells them.
"We don't have an autopilot,” Rimmer says.
"I told the Cat to keep an eye on things,” says Holly, supremely unconcerned.
“You did WHAT?!!” both men scream in unison, and then they are both off and running up to the drive room. Holly nods to himself vaguely, watching as the scutters he had positioned around the corner rush in, taking care of the still-smouldering cigarette and beginning to restore the room to some sort of order. He waits for a while, making a couple of slight course alterations, giving them plenty of time to reach the drive room, or to get distracted by something else along the way. Probably by the Cat, who is, in fact, making a waterfall out of the main stairs.
Crisis averted.