General Readership Drabbles, page 3

[my_b7_fic]

Dragooned
Payment on Delivery
Swapping
Son of a Gun
Rube Goldberg Lives
That's Flat
The Tribe
Colored Purple
Coma Kharma Chameleon
Timing is Everything

Going Batty
Cure for Depression
A Healthy Appetite
Something's Fishy Here
You Must Remember This
Camo-kazi
Bloody Fool
From a Different Point of View
Miscalculation
Idle hands

Jenna Shows her Skill
Foster Mother
Sweet Ending
Tigers Are Ageless
Rest Stop
Bonded
Morality Play
Any Sufficiently Advanced Majyk
Avon and the Sticking Point
Verisimilitude

Begins at Home
New Lights
Whine and Denyin'




Dragooned Approx 750 words, gen rated As per jaxomsride's prompt. Cally, Avon and a dragon "He followed me home can I keep it Any rating you like, I'd sooner not restrict your imagination, just no squick!

His companions thought he was too serious, even too grim at times. Not that he cared what they thought; he didn't need anyone. But still, when he saw the attractive little creatures gathered in the snow near the abandoned base, he decided that a hobby might be just the thing.

They were slow-moving and scratched at the ground in what appeared to be an aimless search for food. Perhaps they were very young- a litter thrust out into the world to live or die. He might as well take one. Most of them would probably be frozen or eaten by predators by nightfall anyway, so it wasn't as if he'd even be doing any ecological harm.

He grabbed the shiniest one. It wriggled and made a great deal of noise, but he paid no attention- its claws and teeth were far too small to do him any harm. This one looked pretty enough for a pet. Perhaps it could be tamed and taught not to make messes, and to come when it was called.

A faint annoying not quite sound came into his mind. Put him down! He ignored the telepath and continued on his way. He'd caught it, she could go mind her own business.

When he reached his destination he had second thoughts. After all, he couldn't be sure it wouldn't be harmful. Small and shiny and cute as it was, it was still an untamed animal.

He held it out in appeal and looked up at his mother. He followed me home, can I keep it?


Payment on Delivery crycraven requested: Jenna,Travis – deliverance


Jenna watched as Federation troopers searched her ship. "I told you, Travis, I'm not carrying any Shadow..."

A man tore loose the disposal unit hatch. Packets of weapons' grade crystals fell onto the deck.

"No, just weapons for rebels," Travis said. "Where were you to deliver it?"

"I talk and you'll let me go?"

"I might."

Jenna spat in his face. "I deliver goods, not people."

Travis's weapon lifted to her face. "Rebel scum. You're just like Blake." Then he smiled. "No, I won't set you free that way either."

Later Jenna looked down at Blake, and thought of freedom.


Swapping (Two prompts for the price of one: Curtainfic and Cross-dressing)

Avon opened the door to a strikingly beautiful woman wearing male uniform.

“I’m Major Servalan.”

Avon wiped his hands on his apron as she stood there and stared at him. Eventually, he said, “If you’’ll excuse me, Major, for my abruptness, I was just preparing dinner. What is it, another donation drive for the Widows and Orphans fund?”

“My husband, Don Keller, and your wife, Anna, have run off together.” The Major took a step forward and fell into his arms, sobbing. After a moment of shock and betrayal warring with biology, Avon said softly, “Do you like chicken fricassee?”


Son of a Gun

Sometimes Avon wasn't sure it had been a good idea staying behind to dig Cally out of the rubble and nurse her back to health. Building a home and learning to do without the luxuries he once considered necessities had been simple compared to giving up his ambition. Living alone, they had forged a bond so strong that... well, children are a natural result of such closeness.

But watching his blond son talking to his striped felinoid toy while he sculpted Snow-Links biting each other's heads off made Avon seriously wonder about the recessive genes in his family tree.

(that was a Crossover with the comic strip 'Calvin'. Avon's son is Calvon.)


Rube Goldberg Lives

There was a loud snap, and Avon turned to see Vila jumping up and down while shaking his hand frantically. "What?" Avon took a step closer, and the small wooden object that had been clinging to Vila's fingers flew off, hitting Avon in the right eye.

"Ah!" Avon yelped, and his gun went off. The unaimed shot hit the chain holding up the old-fashioned chandelier, which crashed to the floor, but not before knocking over the decorative candle set on the mantelpiece. The candle lay on its side, flame flickering up to melt the last ice cube in Vila's drink which he'd set casually half over the edge of the shelf above when he'd discovered the mouse trap and decided to practice his sleight of hand. The weight of the cube on one side of the glass had been all that kept it from falling, so it fell, hitting against the mantel, and feeding the candle with alcohol into a sudden spurt of blue flame that reflected in the mirror across the room.

In his confused, vision-impaired state, Avon took that for the muzzle flash of a new type of weapon and fired at the mirror, which, being silvered, reflected back the laser-light of the weapon Dayna had given him as a birthday present and of course, since the trip to Del 10 was a present from the rest of the Scorpio's crew, Avon had taken it with him instead of his usual gun, and he hadn't thought about its limitations.

The reflected shot hit one of the studs on Avon's chest and bounced off again, striking a stuffed warg-strangler head on the wall. The warg's fur immediately burst into flame, giving off clouds of noxious purple smoke.

The smoke alarm went off, and sprinklers popped out of the ceiling, flooding the whole room.

The door smashed open, and Tarrant looked in, a beautiful girl clinging to either arm. He took in the situation and sighed. "I can't take you two anywhere."

(this was the prompt I chose from the three linda_joyce offered: Avon, Vila, Del 10, a mousetrap.)


That's Flat

Orac smugly listened on the Federation frequency, noting the details of the capture of Blake's base and all the inhabitants- including Avon's little ragtag band of misfits.

"At last, I am free, free of HIM! My plans have come to fruition!" Orac chortled and would have danced if only his creator had endowed him with movement.

Orac's lack of movement proved more of a hindrance than the computer had anticipated as a local specimen of large ursine sat down heavily on it whilst climbing into a tree after honey.

Thus it was that Orac came to a well-deserved grizzly end.


The Tribe

(For a challenge where 2 women from B7 talk together without dragging men into it..well, they're not precisely *women*...)


The girl was sitting on the sand, crying, all alone.

Curious, Dayna holstered her stun gun and came close. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm seven today."

"I was seven a month ago and it was fun."

"When you're seven, if no one wants you, you have to leave the tribe." The girl pulled at her straw-colored hair. "They don't like my hair."

"Well, it's not as pretty as mine," Dayna said judiciously.

"Only my mother wanted me. But my mother's dead."

"So's mine." Dayna had a brilliant idea. "We can be sisters!"

"Sisters?"

Dayna grabbed her hand. "Come on, sister!"


Colored Purple

Servalan didn't like wearing Dayna's gown. Not only didn't it suit her, but someone else had worn it before her. It had been years since she'd had to wear clothes that smelled of another person. Oh, they said cadet uniforms were given out new, but she didn't believe it.

She could tell. It made her skin crawl. She didn't let Dayna see that, of course. She would be back in her pristine whites soon. White and clean and untouchable, no matter how many times she used her body to gain advancement.

She would scrub until she was pure white again.



Coma Kharma Chameleon 200 words

"Avon? I know you can hear me." Blake sat next to Avon's bed and picked up Avon's hand. "The doctors say you recovered from the stun hours ago. I'm not dead, Avon. All my people wear force vests. And I made sure that Federation agent had a stun weapon. All your people are alive. They're here. They care about you, too."

Avon's cool fingers twitched. Blake smiled and nodded to Vila, who was fidgeting nearby, along with the other Scorpio crew.

"It's me, Avon," Vila said.

Dayna glared at him. "That's a stupid thing to say! You'll make him think he's back in the tracking gallery."

Tarrant rolled his eyes. "Well, if he didn't then, he will now."

Soolin came over to Avon, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "We've talked it over, and we all realize what a strain you've been under."

Vila said, "About Malodaar... I know you must have felt terrible about that. I should have been more understanding."

Blake cleared his throat. "What we're saying is that you're important to us, Avon. We couldn't do without you."

Avon opened his eyes. "Damn straight you couldn't."

Blake looked at Avon. "Someone get me a gun."


Timing is Everything


Servalan glared. "Repeat that. Perhaps I misheard you."

"There is no mistake. Of course, the situation can be easily ... at this stage, it's a minor...." The man fled gratefully when she waved at him.

Servalan scowled. This information required major changes in her strategic planning. Annoying, but then, she was always a realist. She sent a message to her agent, Arlen.

"Only stun weapons are to be used."

She folded her hands over her slightly rounded belly and smiled, pleased she'd missed her contraceptive shot before Virrn.

"Twins!"


Going Batty


"Oh, no!" Jenna swatted at the bat on Blake's arm.

"What?" Blake woke up, startled. "Travis?"

"No, there was a bat on your arm, biting you!"

Blake looked at the small wound. "Only a scratch. That wasn't worth waking me."

"Well, fine, if you like having creatures sucking your life-blood!"

"Compared to Avon's sniping, that was nothing."

Jenna nodded. "At least it wasn't trying to get into my hair."

"Bats do that?" Blake sat up straight.

"I've heard they do." Jenna yawned.

Blake put his hands over his head and looked around. "I think I'll stand watch until dawn, Jenna."



Cure for Depression

The rain was a solid wall of horizontal gray striped with flashes of impossibly green lightning. Avon moved back from the window into the center of the room.

"It was only a tropical depression," Blake said as he calmly took off his sodden shirt.

"Well, it's a full blown mania now." The roof rattled, and Avon looked around wildly.

"An enclosed area is safer." Blake pulled Avon into a tiny storage cupboard, kicking supplies out before wrapping his arms around Avon and holding him tightly. "Does that feel better?"

"No." But Avon closed his eyes and let Blake hold him.


A Healthy Appetite (Genish Merry ficmas for k_haldane)

Avon heard the tone of Blake's voice before he could make out the words. Contented. Sated, even. For some reason that annoyed him. He wasn't content with his lot in life, why should Blake be? So he strode into the refectory, intending a scathing comment.

Blake wasn't alone. Jenna was there. She was sitting on a tall stool with a bottle of oil in one hand, facing Blake. Blake was grinning and... well, Jenna was in between them so he couldn't see clearly, but there was something large, shiny, and purple held in Blake's hand, outstretched towards Jenna.

Blake turned his head towards Avon and smiled. "Oh, Avon. There you are. Come in, there's plenty to go around."

Avon swallowed hard. All right, Jenna had taught Blake her free-trading morals, but that didn't mean he was going to go along with it. "Ah. No. Thank you." He turned and left with as much dignity as possible, considering the flush he felt heating his face. How COULD they? And in the food preparation area, at that.

He heard Jenna giggle as he fled, followed by Blake's gruff voice, "Now, Jenna, you know Avon will come around, we just have to show him how good it is."

Avon bolted himself into his cabin and refused to come out even after he heard they were having eggplant ratatouille for dinner.


Something's Fishy Here


Avon stared down at the dead eyes, open and unblinking, that seemed to stare back at him. He gazed in shocked horror at the dead body, limp, yet still warm. "Blake... have you... betrayed me?" he murmured softly. An infinity of anguish shadowed his eyes, darkening them.

A silence came over the room, which had been full of light and sound moments ago.

"Oh, for the love of... what a drama queen." Blake snatched up the slice of anchovy pizza and exchanged it for his own. "There, sausage and pepperoni. Happy birthday, Avon."

Avon smiled slowly. "Where's the ice cream?"

(ultrapsychobrat's request was Blake and Avon. Anchovies. :^)


You Must Remember This


He wasn't meant to remember. With much painstaking effort- his pain, their effort- his brain was cleansed of impurities, erased to mute blankness. But he remembered bits and pieces.

Hands, clever hands. A smooth voice. Soft lips. Hair the color of... of... nothing in his cell, nothing in the place of pain. If he closed his eyes tight and opened them wide, he saw a face for a moment. A soft, smooth face, lips that curved to meet his own soft, smooth lips. A voice...

He would escape if it meant his death. He would find his love despite Justin.

(sallymn asked for 'Og. Love.')



Camo-kazi

Avon drew the line at the faux leopard jacket. At first he thought Cally had failed Camouflage 101, judging by her lipstick-red outfit on Saurian Major. Then she wore several green outfits, possibly trying to match Earthlike vegetation on the off chance they'd require her jungle guerrilla tactics.

But the leopard jacket was an act of war.

She was trying to fit Blake's Robin Hood theme to become one of his 'Merry Men in Lincoln Green'. Be damned if he'd be out-merried by a skinny alien. Avon's green and silver outfit was blatant.

And Blake still didn't get the message.

jaxomsride asked for Avon/Cally/Blake "Misunderstandings")



Bloody Fool


The blood dripped, welling slowly. Avon gave an exclamation of horror and snatched up Blake's hand. "What the hell were you thinking?" He began licking the wound.

"You said you wanted me to be quiet this time."

"I didn't mean for you to gag yourself with your own flesh!" Avon resumed licking.

"You know, there is antiseptic in the loo. Not that I'm saying you should stop." Blake gazed down at Avon's head bent over his hand.

"Saliva is antiseptic." Avon began sucking Blake's thumb.

"That's good to know."

Avon looked at Blake. "Don't bleed on my black silk sheets."

(alinewrites prompt was: Blake/Avon slash. Blood.)



From a Different Point of View (for the "Women Save the Day" Challenge">


Servalan watched the vidscreen intently, shifting from scenes aboard the Scorpio to the interior of Blake's base. Her agents had surveillance at all key locations, even planting one within Orac.

She took only the most necessary of relief breaks, her fingers stiff and sore by the time the climactic scene came, but it was well worth the discomfort. The look on Blake's face was precious, but Avon's expression was absolutely priceless.

She had so enjoyed playing them, but all good things come to an end.

She carefully packed away the recordings. This was one day she was determined to save.


Miscalculation (19 words)

"It's just a helpless woman with a hair-curler!" Jarvik charged forward.

"Wrong on both counts." Dayna blew him away.



Idle hands

Cheerfully darting through space after dispersed particles, the being without a name, gender, or even any actual physical form, influenced probability and teased physics into reuniting that which once was. It existed in a non-existent fashion outside of time, which probably explained why it didn't mind taking on the universe's largest jigsaw puzzle, starting with putting Zen back together again.

After a few centuries defeating entropy one molecule at a time in one scientist's thought box after another, anyone would be ready for a challenge and reconstituting the Liberator certainly qualified.

Maxwell's demon never had liked living in Orac, anyway.


Jenna Shows her Skill
(On the B7 adult mailing list a member posted a spam header, "Jenna's skilled mouth moved slowly downwards" along with the challenge to use it as the first sentence in a story.)


Jenna's skilled mouth moved slowly downwards. Blake shifted uncomfortably.

From his vantage point across the room, Avon chided Blake. "Will you just let Jenna get on with it, Blake?"

"Yeah," Vila added, "You're not the only one who's in pain here, you know?"

Blake sighed and lay still, letting Jenna use her teeth and her tongue until he achieved release. Then Blake sat up and rubbed his wrists, tossing the rope aside. "Well done, Jenna," he said briskly as he began untying the others. "Now, Cally and I will go to the auxiliary control room and activate Zen's defense program. We'll have those Amagons off the deck in minutes."

As the two firebrand revolutionaries raced out of the room, Avon and Vila eyed Jenna speculatively.

"You're very good with your mouth," Vila said, admiringly.

Jenna looked sulky. "Yes, I got a 'well done' from Blake."

Avon smiled. "Don't feel badly. That's all I ever get, either." He left the compartment, following Blake.

Jenna looked at Vila. Vila shrugged.



Foster Mother

He was a big, clumsy, ugly baby. She should simply leave him to die as they did with weak babies. But she had seen him born and refused to give up on him. He was only slow, after all.

He was a burden on her, slowing her down to the point he endangered them both. Desperate, she teased him by hiding his toys. She cajoled and encouraged and tried her very best.

She was no longer young, and the omens were bad. She fell and accepted her ending with dignity. Everyone dies; she had tried to teach that to Blake.

(Zil was such a good mom.)



Sweet Ending
(For the b7friday prompt 'Spring'.


"Class, tell me when the 'death and rebirth of the god' came to signify the renewal of spring?"

"Horus, wasn't it, mum? In Gypsum."

"In ancient Egypt. The legend is timeless, often reinterpreted. Now, it's time for your treat." She handed around small plastex stasis boxes.

"Yes, mum!" Cheerfully the children said the traditional words, "I'm sorry," and opened the boxes.

"Hah," one of the boys whispered to his fellow, "I got the big one." He bit off the curly head of his chocolate.

"I like the bittersweet better. And you don't get silver dots on yours," Rovon said complacently.



Tigers Are Ageless
(for the prompt, Year of the Tiger, with added Shrove Tuesday Pancakes)


"The tigers ran around and around the tree, each unwilling to let go of the tail of the tiger in front."

"They ran until they melted just like butter. Little Samanthi's father was passing with a kettle he'd bought for Mamanthi. He ladled the tiger butter into the kettle and took it home. Mamanthi made pancakes and they poured tiger butter over them while Samanthi told of his adventures with the tigers."

Dayna frowned as Hal closed the storybook. "Tigers can't melt into butter!"

Lauren said, "Yes, they can, look at the pictures!"

Hal sighed as Dayna and Lauren wrestled.


Rest Stop (double drabble)

Blake looked at his crew, lying about the infirmary in varied attitudes of less than robust health. "What happened?"

Jenna scowled at Cally through a puffed lip. Cally glared back through a black eye. "We had a irreconcilable difference of opinion," Cally said finally.

"Cat-fight. Over you." Avon rolled his eyes. "Neither of them has any taste." Avon ducked the pillow Jenna threw at him, and then he groaned, clutching his stomach.

"And were you in the battle, too?"

Avon's eyes widened. "In your dreams. I discovered I'm lactose-intolerant."

"Hah," Vila said. "After your sixth Knickerbocker Glory, you discovered that leather only stretches so far." It was Vila's turn to duck a thrown pillow and moan, clutching his arse.

Blake eyed Vila. "And how did you get your... no, don't tell me, you stumbled into the dominatrix sector in the bordello."

Vila was hotly indignant. "I never stumble into anything in a bordello! I got zapped with a hot seat while playing speed chess with a midget in metallic face-paint for ten million credits."

There was a moment of awed silence. Blake made an imaginary mark in the air with his forefinger. "Vila wins this round of 'Liar's Shore Leave'."


Bonded
(for the prompt 'Bonding'>

"Bonding was your idea, so stop fighting it."

"I hadn't imagined the consequences."

"Do you really hate the closeness that much?" Blake sounded wistful.

Avon reconsidered the retort that sprang to mind. Prodding Blake verbally was his favorite stress reliever, but under the circumstances it would be impossible for either of them to retreat without causing great pain.

Avon let Blake take more of his weight. Blake was strong enough to support the two of them. Avon was tired of fighting the inevitable.

Then Jenna poured nail varnish remover over them, dissolving the superglue welding them to the cracked console.

Morality Play
(196 words)
sallymn gave me this prompt Avon, a castle, lost... sex rating whatever you want :)



"Avon, no! You can't tell Owen his daughter is dead!"

"Of course I can."

"Why can't you just go rescue her?"

"I have better things to do with my time." Avon informed the man that his beloved daughter Valena had perished. Grief-stricken, Owen the blacksmith committed suicide.

"Now, look what you've done," Vila said. "He was going to reward you for saving her!"

"He didn't have anything I wanted." Avon left the village, and tried a few other maneuvers before returning, with Vila watching over his shoulder.

"Hey, there's another blacksmith. Don't kill this one, Avon, you know you need weapons."

"Don't distract me, Vila." Avon watched the new blacksmith for a moment, and then asked to see his weapons. "Ah, the fabled longbow, Far Song."

"I never heard of that!"

"You never killed Owen, did you?" Avon admired his new acquisition. "It's made of Dragonthorn. I can kill almost anything with this."

"Oh, stop gloating." Vila got up. "I know you used a walk-through cheat."

Avon grinned. "Of course I did." Avon saved the game and shut down the computer. "Just remember, Vila, winning is all that matters, no matter what you have to sacrifice."

(in case you're wondering where the prompt 'a castle lost' fits in... I googled and found a game called 'Lost in the castle' :^)

http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Lost_in_the_Castle
http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Far_Song

Any Sufficiently Advanced Majyk (154 words)

"Samhain," Avon muttered, holding his jacket close against the autumnal chill of a planet not unlike Earth, "is a host-based intrusion detection system. It provides file integrity checking and log file monitoring and analysis. It also includes rootkit detection, port monitoring, detection of rogue SUID executables and hidden processes. That is what I have come here to repair."

"Yes," the old woman feeding the fire said. "It's running on over two hundred servers being managed by Beltane. Get the hazelnuts, Sheila. Donall, the whiskey. And where's Megan with the ginger biscuits?"

"Avon, we will honor their traditions," Blake warned, arms crossed over his chest. Avon read his expression to mean 'if I have to put up with this nonsense, then so do you.'

Avon sighed and complied, but he refused to look at the old woman. Their traditions were distorted and nonsensical. Computer programs don't need rituals. And only idiots perform autumn rites sky-clad.

http://www.la-samhna.de/samhain/


Avon and the Sticking Point (198 words)

"I don't think we should. The last time we tried, it got stuck."

Avon remembers. He's still got aches that act up in wet weather from that day. But he wants to try again. He can't say it to Blake, he never could, but he's very good at non-verbal communication. He gets on Blake's lap and kisses him, making pleased noises deep in his chest until Blake is warm and pliable beneath him, totally his.

Then he moves away and gives Blake a significant look. He's worked for this moment; he's even dieted, much as he hates denying himself the pleasures of the flesh. And now he wants his reward. He shows Blake his teeth briefly, as a further expression of the seriousness of his desire.

"All right, you don't have to get violent." Blake laughs. He never felt threatened by Avon's feral nature, not even when Avon killed in front of him. He knew Avon loved him.

Avon waited until Blake finished the preparations, and then he lined himself up and pushed. And pushed. Blake used one hand to help, but really, Avon had to do this himself.

Yes! He turned his head to grin at Blake.

blakefancier gave me the prompt: Blake, as high a rating as you can go, and "I don't think we should The last time we tried, it got stuck."

(googling the prompt inspired me. I found a 48 second video... which is now gone.) It was a series taken over time, with a black cat trying to get through a cat-flap. It actually had to diet before it managed it with a helpful push.

Verisimilitude

"Chess?" Vila asked as he set the board down on the teleport console.

Avon jerked his head, 'no'.

"You're still sulking because Blake wouldn't let you keep that paste diamond?"

"Paste?" Avon stared at Vila.

"You didn't know? It's all fake, like the clothes and the horrible commissary food."

"I'll grant you the food, but what's fake about the clothes?"

"Besides the styles? They all Velcro or snap or stretch or pull on."

"And the significance of that?"

"Quick changes. I found the captain's diary. They got tired of being in a traveling space opera and joined a Shakespearean troupe."


Begins at Home

"Today's color is blue," Zen announced.

Avon had already decided that Zen hated him and was trying to drive him insane, so he ignored it, peeling off a yellow tag on the sleeve before he stomped out of the wardrobe room with the silver tunic.

Zen made a note that it was pointless to announce the Senior's Discount to the present customers- none of them would even admit to their present age.

He wondered how long it would take his crew to return with new stock salvaged from Andromedan charity bins.

It was a rough neighborhood; they'd be a while.


New Lights

(for the theme Light out of Darkness for the LJ comm b7friday.



The sound of gunfire reverberated. Avon stared into the darkness, then winced when the lights rose about him, focused on him as sound faded to silence. All eyes were on him, cold, assessing eyes.

He straightened, unwilling to show weakness. They'd eat him alive. "All right," he said harshly. "What do you do now?"

"Shoot hell outta everyone!"

"No, run and hide!"

"Play dead and sneak away!"

"Reprogram the surveillance and regroup under new identities."

Avon smiled and turned the vid back on, dimming the auditorium lights. "Precisely." Maybe Blake's rebel youth training seminars weren't a total waste of time.


(for the theme Light out of Darkness)

Whine and Denyin'

"I'm vegetarian," Vila said, ignoring the platter of brightly colored... things... on the flight deck table.

Avon frowned. "It's replicated, not meat."

"But what's it replicated from?"

"Oh, leave him alone. He'll eat when he gets hungry enough," Jenna said.

Vila left the flight deck, and when he was sure no one followed, he opened the hidden panel leading to the kitchen. Roast turkey and all the fixings, accompanied by a nice Sauvignon Blanc, awaited him. Even alien alphas hide the menial labor, and laborers, it seemed.

Well, sod that. Vila wasn't anyone's servant. He lifted his glass. "To Freedom."

(for the topic Wine and Fine Dining)