Fées Ficlets

Fées Ficlets

( 09:44 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

"You've got a nice enough ass, Lana, but you're too damn nice." Chloe to Lana in some Smallville fic I haven't yet though of.

( 09:47 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

Wrong turn in the XF Lyric Wheel VI

Kenny is positioned near the entrance of the bar, watching all of the fresh meat come in. The night looks like a bust, it's nearly midnight and none of the men here have that look he wants, a big, hard body that's obviously been battered, been put back together. He starts to move further in the room, make his excuses to his friends and playmates, when a murmur of approval runs through the room.

He turns back to the door, and Sparky is perfectly framed in the doorway. Six feet of muscles, scars, and perfect obedience look his way, and Kenny's night has taken a turn for the better. "Sparky, heel!" The big man makes his way through the crowd to Kenny's side. Kenny puts his hand out, and the big man kisses it. "Good boy!" He rubs the nearly naked dome, behind the ears, under the chin, drags his fingers through the gray fringe. "I haven't seen you around for a while. Tell me where you've been."

Sparky opens his mouth and sighs, and Kenny waits patiently for the reply. He's figured out long ago that this particular sub does something which requires a security clearance, so he won't punish Sparky for taking his time on questions about his life outside the club.

"There's been…upheaval lately. A lot of personnel changes, most of them unexpected."

"Poor Sparky." He rubs some more, puts a kiss on his pet's head.

Kenny nods, turns, and walks to the registration desk. Sparky is at his heel, as he should be. It takes only a moment to secure a spa suite for a couple of hours.

When they enter, the room turns out to be appointed in 'Modern English Hunt Club', with green carpet, lots of heavy dark wooden furniture padded in maroon, and pictures of horses on the walls. #

( 09:41 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

AtS notes

Okay, so I had this story idea where Gunn and Wesley are lovers, but kinda new, and they go to Gunn's apartment and Gunn puts in a CD and it's a bunch a sexy neosoul songs (keywords: brown, dreadlocks, ebony, coffee, etc.), and Wesley goes, "Is that, like, some kind of hint!?" and Gunn looks at him very *blink, blink* and says, "No, baby, that's the seduction mix."

So, I told Té and Cassandra and Ins (but Ins was mostly asleep at that point) and they say, "That's fucking awesome," but I say, "there is no plot."

This morning I come up with a plot. Actually, I realize that Sheila had had an idea that, combined with my idea, could make an entire plot: Vampire Wesley.

Say that Wesley's insecurities lead him to do a magic spell in which he is turned into the epitome of cool, and secretly, in his heart of hearts, he thinks vampires are the epitome of cool, so you do the math. And the song incident is the thing that pushes him over the edge, convincing him he's a dork. and then the plot is about how they work at either reversing the vampirism or getting him a soul (without a happiness return clause, please).

The only problem with this plot is that Wesley is not, you know, Willow, and inclined to use magic for something so frivolous. So, I decided that his relationship with his father means that he is slightly irrational when he's in a relationship with a man (and he knows this when he's not actually dating a guy, so he mostly doesn't). However, the irrationality usually is displayed by letting himself be abused, and he's sure that Gunn isn't abusive, so he feels like he can trust Gunn to keep the two of them straight, if not himself. Except that Gunn doesn't have any idea that Wesley feels inadequately cool, because Wesley doesn't say anything and Gunn looks up to him because of the education and natural leadership qualities displayed by our favorite rogue demon hunter.

So, anyway, yeah, I figured I could show this insecurity in like, subtle exposition about a relationship with Angel, where their insecurities fed off each other, and flashbacks to an earlier, physically abusive relationship (perhaps in the Watchers?). Except now it sounds like a novel and I'm just not up to that yet, so I'll write the idea down here and maybe have use for it some day. #

( 23:10 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

SV notes

These are for A chance to be anyone at all

Chloe Clark and Pete have H'ween tradition of dressing as threesome ... princess, knight, dragon; three musketeers; Huey, Louis, Dewey, etc.

Clark has been traded to the cheerleading squad for Lana. C squad=Cirque du Soleil. Clark trio=Power Puff Girls.

Chloe = Bubbles = blue dress w/ two pigtails on side of head
Lana = Blossom = pink dress w/ pony tail at crown of head and big red bow
Pete = Buttercup = green dress with short black wig (pageboy cut?)

Costumes to be worn in parade. Parades because of Smallville founder, Jameson Eaton Small (v. eccentric). Laid out roads dangerous for fast cars and promoted walking at every occasion.

Lex disgusted by Clark as girl?

( 19:24 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

TS doodlings

working on that damn sentence

The silence drifted uneasily between them until Jim pressed play on the stereo. One of Blair's CDs, instrumental bluegrass from the 40's, was in the player. Jim turned it down.

"Turn that back up to at least two, man. I can't hear it in the kitchen otherwise."

Blair kept washing, listening to the steady chop chop as Jim prepared the chicken, trying to get the images out of his head. The noise stopped, and Blair looked up to see Jim spreading sanitizer on his hands. Then he went in the living room, turned on the stereo. Sara Vaughn's voice spilled out of the speakers. Jim looked toward the kitchen, and Blair nodded his approval.

Blair swallowed, ignored the vegetables in favor of calming his pulse race. He started when he heard the clarinet intro to Rhapsody in Blue, and looked up to see Jim standing by the stereo. Jim quirked an eyebrow, and Blair shrugged and nodded, went back to washing and chopping.

A few minutes of silence passed, then Blair heard the discordant strains of one of Jim's 70's rock albums. He turned in the direction of the stereo and raised an eyebrow at Jim, who hurriedly pressed the disc changer until he landed on a soul record they both liked. Blair turned back to the vegetables.

( 10:51 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

TS: Bogus Wakeup Scene

This is a complete bogus wakeup scene I wrote in the 2nd Sequel to Piquant. Jim and Blair would not act like this, I'm sure. But it's funny, so I'll preserve it here, and hope I can cannabalize it someday.

Wakeup Call #1: "Up and at 'em, Blair, we've gotta get outta here."

Jim walked into the kitchen, carefully considered what to make for breakfast. He was vacillating between a tofu scramble with mango juice and cinnamon toast or sausauge with orange juice and peanutbutter toast. Two sets of comfort food. Realized that the juice and toast experiences were easily customizable, and that Blair deserved a main dish he could eat without worrying about his arteries on today of all days. He pulled out the tofu, the red and yellow peppers, some shredded cheddar, a few pre-cut onion chunks, and some frozen peas.

Wakeup Call #2: "Blair, seriously, you should get up, get showered, and get dressed. You're going to be moaning and groaning about being late, and all I'm going to say is, 'I told you so.' And I'm cooking breakfast, you don't want it to burn, do you?"

"wubekfa?"

"Tofu scramble."

"hasis?"

"No. I'm already eating tofu, which tastes like erasers mashed together with soybean oil and glue. No hot sauce for either of us."

He chose not to listen to the response as he went back to the kitchen and chopped everything up. He put some olive oil in the pan, along with the onion and chunks of tofu. Then he braced himself. Time for wakeup call number three.

Blair shrieked when the sheets and pillow were pulled off of him. His hairy butt stuck straight up in the air, as his limbs and head were pulled underneath him in a tight ball. "Cold!"

"Life is tough all over. Get in the shower; the tofu is already in the pan." He walked out of the room, knowing that Blair would not get up until he was gone. #

( 22:08 ) WitchQueen the slashy one

FS:Scorpius/Braca, Post Family Ties

It was late when Braca received the summons to Scorpius' quarters. It was for that reason that his arrival was without its usual alacrity. If he had known what would be asked of him ... a cycle later, and he still does not know if he would have rushed towards this meeting or away.

"Lieutenant Braca." Scorpius nodded at him, a trifle less carefully than normal, and took a sip of calenth. Braca knew now that Scorpius' high internal temperature rendered the inebriating ingredients in the bright yellow liquid harmless, but at the time, he'd thought his commander was drunk.

"Sir. How may I serve you?" Braca blinked once and stifled a yawn. He'd been sound asleep when the comms had chirped.

Scorpius smiled, a smile which seemed to arise from actual amusement, rather than a detached form of malice. "I'd like to make a few things clearer to you, before telling you what service I wish."

Braca nodded briskly, hoping that whatever it was wouldn't take long.

"As you are no doubt aware, I am a Scarran/Sebacean hybrid. Because of my loyalty to the Sebacean species, the Purity codes do not strictly apply to me, and I have been allowed to enter the Peacekeepers and advance quite far within the ranks."

Braca nodded again. All of this was common knowledge.

"However, because of my," Scorpius pursed his lips, "unique situation, I have never in fact held the rank of captain." Scorpius sighed and finished off his calenth. He looked at his now empty glass with apparent surprise and reached for the cut glass container of calenth. "Would you like something to drink, Lieutenant? Something which will not lead to your inebriation."

Braca blinked a few times rapidly, then pointed at a plain looking pitcher in a corner of the wet bar. "I don't suppose that's nappa juice, sir?"

Scorpius quickly poured his subordinate a tall glass of green liquid and another of yellow for himself. "Captains have certain prerogatives, sexual prerogatives, over their subordinates, as I'm sure you're well aware. I do not have those prerogatives, but I do have those," he paused, and Braca could see him carefully considering the alternatives, "desires."

"Sir?" Braca was terrifically pleased that his voice hadn't cracked, but he was not as thrilled by the smirk on Scorpius' face.

"I realize that my body is unattractive to both Sebaceans and Scarrans, Lieutenant. But others have often found my power to be a sufficient aphrodisiac for competent sexual performance."

"Sir?" This time Braca's voice did crack. He was being propositioned by a terrifically ugly alien, who was also his commanding officer, who seemed to imply that he didn't have to accept the invitation. But what would happen to him if he refused Scorpius', uh, request? The average Peacekeeper project leader had unsatisfied subordinates transferred out of their unit, but those that disappointed Scorpius tended to end up deceased.

"If you find my proposition unacceptable, you will retain your life and your rank, Lieutenant Braca, but you will no longer be my second in command. To be honest, you were not my first choice, but a high percentage of my original project team perished in the Gammak base destruction. I suspect that capturing and extracting the information I require from John Crichton may be a long term project. I find that if I lack suitable ... companionship for an extended period, my moods become unpleasant and my destructive impulses arbitrary. This is. Unacceptable."

"Sir, I, Sir." Braca stammered to a halt at Scorpius' raised hand.

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to make an uninformed or hurried choice." He produced a data rod and handed it to Braca. "Report to me at this arn in two solar days. Observe that," he pointed at the rod, "before that time. Give me your answer then." He put his hand to the side of his head and shuddered. Then he downed his entire glass of calenth. "Drink your nappa and go to bed, Lieutenant Braca." He turned away from his subordinate, and picked up an anonymous stack of reports.

slash fanfiction bits