Tiny ficlets
I wrote some comment ficlets for people who guessed the answers of the wacky fun Fandoms I Have Known meme (except for Enterprise, at which I totally failed). These are the same ficlets, collected.
Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to these characters/contexts; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing.
Battlestar Galactica
Guessed by reve_lucide
Felix hates his pants. He hates the way the cheap fabric sags and wrinkles, making him look slightly rumpled. He hates that they don't quite fit around the waist, and that they're a little long at the hem. They're his pants now, but they weren't always. Once, they belonged to someone else, a miner who died when the Cloud Nine exploded.
His clothes went up for auction.
Felix needed something that wasn't a uniform. At the time, he hadn't thought too much about it - beyond the anger about the unexplained explosion, and the growing disappointment at Baltar's response.
They'd been pants. Just another scarce item, another piece of someone's broken life.
But with every day he spends on New Caprica, as he wakes up and gets dressed, damp and chill even in Colonial One, as he watches Baltar pop more pills and defer decisions, the more he hates his pants.
He longs for heavy, durable fabric and clean, pressed lines.
He longs for a leader, for someone who gives orders and commands respect.
Felix misses his uniform, and he misses having a place to wear it.
due South
Guessed by sansets
There are a lot of things that Dief misses, now that he's in a human city. He misses snow - real snow, clean and white. He misses trees. And rabbits. Especially the rabbits. His human gets him good meat, but it's not the same as fresh-caught rabbit, still warm between his teeth.
Rabbits, Dief thinks, as he runs after a human. The human prey thinks he can get away, but he's easy to track, and he runs slowly.
At least rabbits require skill, even if they are timid.
And deer. They can run. Dief misses deer.
He rounds another corner - rank with human garbage, and full of broken glass. He leaps over most of the glass, but comes down just at the edge of it, a shard digging into his paw. He can't help the yelp, but he turns it into a growl, and he sees how the running human looks back, nervous.
Rabbit, Dief thinks again, this time for a different reason.
He keeps running. The rabbit-human is slowing down.
There are many things Dief misses about home. But at least he still has the hunting.
Firefly
Guessed by bitter_crimson
"Eaten," Jayne says, eyes narrowed. And then, "Ain't right that you should be askin' this kind of question."
Wash nods. "As much I can't believe I'm saying this, I agree with Jayne. Who asks questions like that?"
River looks at him steadily, until he adds, "Eaten."
River nods in return, and looks at Zoe. Zoe just looks back, and internally, River sighs. Zoe never likes to play. She turns to Kaylee, who's watching her with wide, unhappy eyes.
"River -" Simon says.
"It's just a question."
"It's not a nice question. It's morbid and makes people unhappy." Simon frowns. He always frowns.
"I ain't unhappy," Jayne says, stuffing food into his mouth. "It's just weird. Just like her."
"I'm curious." River smiles at Simon, ignoring Jayne. "It's dangerous here. Danger. Everywhere. Pays to know. Understand."
"I don't think you need to understand the way everyone least wants to die, River."
"But -"
"No."
He never wants to play either. He doesn't understand. It helps to know. It does. But he's frowning at her, and Mal is thinking thoughts about her setting herself up for a fit again. River drops it.
For a few minutes. "But we eat creatures to live."
Chopsticks drop, and Kaylee's knee hits the table hard. It's quiet in the room, quiet except for their thoughts. "Ain't right," Jayne thinks, and "New dosage," Simon thinks. Mal's wondering again if she's a mistake, something that will end up destroying everything he cares about.
River squeezes her eyes shut, trying to ignore the clamour, the horror, the worry, the fear.
And then Wash laughs, tentative, but still bright. "We don't eat creatures," he says, pointing at his bowl. "Haven't you noticed yet? We eat protein powder." Poking at the mush, he adds, "Well. Maybe there're some bugs in there. But they don't count."
River grins.
Stargate SG-1
Guessed by _minxy_
"It almost makes you long for the days of the Goa'uld, doesn't it?" Cameron slides further down behind the outcropping, hoping the Ori forces down below don't notice any movement. Probably they won't, given that most of them are crouched, heads down, bowed before the Prior.
Still, there are sentries.
"It does not." Teal'c murmurs.
"At least the Goa'uld had their own problems." He wonders if Sam sometimes thinks back on the years of fighting the Goa'uld as the 'good old days'. "Vanity. Enemies. Rebel Jaffa. Bad style."
"I do not long for those days to return."
"If the Goa'uld had still been around, Jackson might not have -"
"Colonel Mitchell."
Cameron looks over. "Yeah?"
"We must leave this place. Before they return to duty."
Right, right. He knows that.
"And I do not wish those days to return. Do not ask me again." There's something final in his tone.
Yeah, maybe the question had been a little tactless. Turning and pulling himself along the ground, Cameron nods. "Gotcha."
Stargate: Atlantis
Guessed by trekgirl55
When it was his turn, Sheppard said, "Kittens."
Rodney scowled. "They'd be monsters wearing kitten clothing. They'd coax us into holding them - thinking they were defenceless, helpless, motherless orphans - and then, while we were sitting, cuddling them and feeding them tidbits of our food they'd shed their kitten skins and eat us. Slowly."
Across the fire, Ford laughed. "You need to relax, Dr. McKay."
Rodney poked at the fire with his stick. "I am relaxed. This is how I relax. Thinking up scenarios so I'm never, ever surprised."
Teyla frowned. "I prefer to tell stories of joy and triumph when relaxing. For example, there was a time when I went with a trading party to a planet called Hindra. I was very young, but my father promised me I could visit another people with him. I felt very proud he trusted me to behave myself." She half-smiled, clearly lost in the memory. "At the end, he traded for a small pet creature for me. It was a pedra, very popular with the Hindrans. I loved it very much."
"Was it about this big," Sheppard mimed the size of a small cat, "and furry? With whiskers?"
Teyla nodded. "Yes."
"Sounds like a kitten."
Rodney poked at the fire again. "Did it ever turn into a face-eating monster? I'm just asking for future reference."
Vampire High
Guessed by lyrstzha!
The curve of Merrill's back is perfect. Even through the bulk of her stolen jacket, Marty can see the newly honed muscles, and the way she holds herself with absolute balance. Her hair hides her face, and Marty wants to reach out and brush it back, but by now he knows better.
She looks placid, but he knows she's not. Marty never thought Merrill be the one to revert.
Once, Merrill had been everything the Elders wanted from the program - quiet, abiding from the rules, thinking like a human. She'd been Murdoch's prodigy, proof of the ways they could be brought low, made compassionate. He remembers her earnest expressions, her rare shy smiles. In his memories of Merrill, her eyes are wide and guileless.
Now when she grins at him it's slow and sultry and her eyes are always narrowed. She grins when she's hungry, or she wants him. She'll let her lips stretch wide after a fight with Fury hunters, the expression wild and suited to her blood-spattered skin and clothes.
They're the kind of looks he'd once longed to se e. Merrill - shedding the restrictions that the experiment put on her. He'd wanted her to cast off her good-girl veneer and show her teeth.
And for once in his fucked up existence, Marty has what he'd wished for. The Academy is destroyed, the others dead, and they're running from the Fury hunters. He has a Merrill who twists her body - during sex, during fights with the Fury - in new, imaginative, dangerous ways. He has a Merrill who acts, but rarely feels. At first, it was only sometimes, during the thick of a fight. But now -
Merrill's losing it. In the old days, before the Mansbridge Academy, Marty would have revelled in her changes. He would have done anything to encourage them. He'd have taken her example and run with it, sharing new perversions and old instincts.
He and Merrill, together they would have terrorised the human world, making the stalk-and-kill actions of the Fury look pathetic and animalistic.
He smirks at the thought. They still probably could, and the thought is more than appealing. They could stop running from the Fury, from the full takeover of instinct again.
Marty never thought he'd be the one struggling to remember what Murdoch taught them.
"Let's go," Merrill says straightening and tossing aside the body of drifter they'd found. Her mouth is smeared with blood.
She's a mess, far from the neat, grey, buttoned-down self she'd been at the Academy.
Something inside Marty shudders, even as he realises that she's never been more beautiful.
Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to these characters/contexts; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing.
Battlestar Galactica
Guessed by reve_lucide
Felix hates his pants. He hates the way the cheap fabric sags and wrinkles, making him look slightly rumpled. He hates that they don't quite fit around the waist, and that they're a little long at the hem. They're his pants now, but they weren't always. Once, they belonged to someone else, a miner who died when the Cloud Nine exploded.
His clothes went up for auction.
Felix needed something that wasn't a uniform. At the time, he hadn't thought too much about it - beyond the anger about the unexplained explosion, and the growing disappointment at Baltar's response.
They'd been pants. Just another scarce item, another piece of someone's broken life.
But with every day he spends on New Caprica, as he wakes up and gets dressed, damp and chill even in Colonial One, as he watches Baltar pop more pills and defer decisions, the more he hates his pants.
He longs for heavy, durable fabric and clean, pressed lines.
He longs for a leader, for someone who gives orders and commands respect.
Felix misses his uniform, and he misses having a place to wear it.
due South
Guessed by sansets
There are a lot of things that Dief misses, now that he's in a human city. He misses snow - real snow, clean and white. He misses trees. And rabbits. Especially the rabbits. His human gets him good meat, but it's not the same as fresh-caught rabbit, still warm between his teeth.
Rabbits, Dief thinks, as he runs after a human. The human prey thinks he can get away, but he's easy to track, and he runs slowly.
At least rabbits require skill, even if they are timid.
And deer. They can run. Dief misses deer.
He rounds another corner - rank with human garbage, and full of broken glass. He leaps over most of the glass, but comes down just at the edge of it, a shard digging into his paw. He can't help the yelp, but he turns it into a growl, and he sees how the running human looks back, nervous.
Rabbit, Dief thinks again, this time for a different reason.
He keeps running. The rabbit-human is slowing down.
There are many things Dief misses about home. But at least he still has the hunting.
Firefly
Guessed by bitter_crimson
"Eaten," Jayne says, eyes narrowed. And then, "Ain't right that you should be askin' this kind of question."
Wash nods. "As much I can't believe I'm saying this, I agree with Jayne. Who asks questions like that?"
River looks at him steadily, until he adds, "Eaten."
River nods in return, and looks at Zoe. Zoe just looks back, and internally, River sighs. Zoe never likes to play. She turns to Kaylee, who's watching her with wide, unhappy eyes.
"River -" Simon says.
"It's just a question."
"It's not a nice question. It's morbid and makes people unhappy." Simon frowns. He always frowns.
"I ain't unhappy," Jayne says, stuffing food into his mouth. "It's just weird. Just like her."
"I'm curious." River smiles at Simon, ignoring Jayne. "It's dangerous here. Danger. Everywhere. Pays to know. Understand."
"I don't think you need to understand the way everyone least wants to die, River."
"But -"
"No."
He never wants to play either. He doesn't understand. It helps to know. It does. But he's frowning at her, and Mal is thinking thoughts about her setting herself up for a fit again. River drops it.
For a few minutes. "But we eat creatures to live."
Chopsticks drop, and Kaylee's knee hits the table hard. It's quiet in the room, quiet except for their thoughts. "Ain't right," Jayne thinks, and "New dosage," Simon thinks. Mal's wondering again if she's a mistake, something that will end up destroying everything he cares about.
River squeezes her eyes shut, trying to ignore the clamour, the horror, the worry, the fear.
And then Wash laughs, tentative, but still bright. "We don't eat creatures," he says, pointing at his bowl. "Haven't you noticed yet? We eat protein powder." Poking at the mush, he adds, "Well. Maybe there're some bugs in there. But they don't count."
River grins.
Stargate SG-1
Guessed by _minxy_
"It almost makes you long for the days of the Goa'uld, doesn't it?" Cameron slides further down behind the outcropping, hoping the Ori forces down below don't notice any movement. Probably they won't, given that most of them are crouched, heads down, bowed before the Prior.
Still, there are sentries.
"It does not." Teal'c murmurs.
"At least the Goa'uld had their own problems." He wonders if Sam sometimes thinks back on the years of fighting the Goa'uld as the 'good old days'. "Vanity. Enemies. Rebel Jaffa. Bad style."
"I do not long for those days to return."
"If the Goa'uld had still been around, Jackson might not have -"
"Colonel Mitchell."
Cameron looks over. "Yeah?"
"We must leave this place. Before they return to duty."
Right, right. He knows that.
"And I do not wish those days to return. Do not ask me again." There's something final in his tone.
Yeah, maybe the question had been a little tactless. Turning and pulling himself along the ground, Cameron nods. "Gotcha."
Stargate: Atlantis
Guessed by trekgirl55
When it was his turn, Sheppard said, "Kittens."
Rodney scowled. "They'd be monsters wearing kitten clothing. They'd coax us into holding them - thinking they were defenceless, helpless, motherless orphans - and then, while we were sitting, cuddling them and feeding them tidbits of our food they'd shed their kitten skins and eat us. Slowly."
Across the fire, Ford laughed. "You need to relax, Dr. McKay."
Rodney poked at the fire with his stick. "I am relaxed. This is how I relax. Thinking up scenarios so I'm never, ever surprised."
Teyla frowned. "I prefer to tell stories of joy and triumph when relaxing. For example, there was a time when I went with a trading party to a planet called Hindra. I was very young, but my father promised me I could visit another people with him. I felt very proud he trusted me to behave myself." She half-smiled, clearly lost in the memory. "At the end, he traded for a small pet creature for me. It was a pedra, very popular with the Hindrans. I loved it very much."
"Was it about this big," Sheppard mimed the size of a small cat, "and furry? With whiskers?"
Teyla nodded. "Yes."
"Sounds like a kitten."
Rodney poked at the fire again. "Did it ever turn into a face-eating monster? I'm just asking for future reference."
Vampire High
Guessed by lyrstzha!
The curve of Merrill's back is perfect. Even through the bulk of her stolen jacket, Marty can see the newly honed muscles, and the way she holds herself with absolute balance. Her hair hides her face, and Marty wants to reach out and brush it back, but by now he knows better.
She looks placid, but he knows she's not. Marty never thought Merrill be the one to revert.
Once, Merrill had been everything the Elders wanted from the program - quiet, abiding from the rules, thinking like a human. She'd been Murdoch's prodigy, proof of the ways they could be brought low, made compassionate. He remembers her earnest expressions, her rare shy smiles. In his memories of Merrill, her eyes are wide and guileless.
Now when she grins at him it's slow and sultry and her eyes are always narrowed. She grins when she's hungry, or she wants him. She'll let her lips stretch wide after a fight with Fury hunters, the expression wild and suited to her blood-spattered skin and clothes.
They're the kind of looks he'd once longed to se e. Merrill - shedding the restrictions that the experiment put on her. He'd wanted her to cast off her good-girl veneer and show her teeth.
And for once in his fucked up existence, Marty has what he'd wished for. The Academy is destroyed, the others dead, and they're running from the Fury hunters. He has a Merrill who twists her body - during sex, during fights with the Fury - in new, imaginative, dangerous ways. He has a Merrill who acts, but rarely feels. At first, it was only sometimes, during the thick of a fight. But now -
Merrill's losing it. In the old days, before the Mansbridge Academy, Marty would have revelled in her changes. He would have done anything to encourage them. He'd have taken her example and run with it, sharing new perversions and old instincts.
He and Merrill, together they would have terrorised the human world, making the stalk-and-kill actions of the Fury look pathetic and animalistic.
He smirks at the thought. They still probably could, and the thought is more than appealing. They could stop running from the Fury, from the full takeover of instinct again.
Marty never thought he'd be the one struggling to remember what Murdoch taught them.
"Let's go," Merrill says straightening and tossing aside the body of drifter they'd found. Her mouth is smeared with blood.
She's a mess, far from the neat, grey, buttoned-down self she'd been at the Academy.
Something inside Marty shudders, even as he realises that she's never been more beautiful.