Feb. 15th, 2010

velvetfiction: (plotbunny)
Fandom: Eddings (Belgariad/Mallorean)/PotC crossover
Characters: Silk & Jack

--

"It's all about the game, really," Silk said confidentially, taking another swig of rum.

"Ab-so-hic-lutely!" Jack agreed. "The game, the chase, the thrill of the hunt."

"Coins are just a way of keeping score. Back home, I have a lot of coins."

"Good on you, mate. I tend to keep score by how many ships I've sunk, but it amounts to the same thing, really. To victory!"

"To victory!" Silk echoed and they clanked their bottles together. He took another drink and tugged on his nose thoughtfully. "So if we're winners in this game of ours, how does that explain why we're stuck here on this little island with a stash of rum, while Liselle and 'lizabeth are off running around with your boat?"

"Ship," Jack corrected absently. "And it doesn't. You see, mate, women have a different set of rules. And they change them when you're not looking."

Silk nodded sagely. That made perfect sense of course. He always knew Liselle was cheating, and said as much.

"Lizzy too," Jack agreed. "Awfully good at what they do, though."

"I'll drink to that."

And so they did.
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: PotC/Bridge of Birds crossover
Characters: Jack, Master Li, Number Ten Ox
A/N: Number Ten Ox is narrating, of course
--

The adventure started, as they usually did, with a knock on the door. As Master Li was deeply into his sixth jug of wine for the evening, I rose and answered the door to our little house on the Street of Eyes.

You might think that years of working with Master Li would have inured me to whatever might be thrown at me in this world or the next. And you would largely be correct. But every now and then the August Personage of Jade likes to remind me that I can still be surprised.

The man on the other side of the door was foreign. There is no other possible way to describe him. The form and fabrics of his clothing, the shape of his face, even the smells that clung to him, were other.

Before I could say anything, he bowed to me, a proper bow of a supplicant seeking aid, and greeted me.

"My surname is Sparrow, my personal name is Jack, and I come most humbly to entreat the help of Master Li Kao."

At least, I think that is what he said. His seaman's dialect was as thick as Bao Ki's plum wine, and he might have said that his surname was "Bottom-wiper." I chose to believe my initial interpretation.

"My name is Lu and my personal name is Yu," I replied, "but you can call me Number Ten Ox. Please come in and I will fetch Master Li."

I turned to do as I had said, only to find Master Li standing behind me already, speculatively assessing the stranger.

"And just what is it you need my help with, salty dog?"

Sparrow grimaced. "I'm afraid, Master Li, that I have misplaced the Pearl, and all of China knows that you are unparalleled when it comes to finding the unfindable."

"Misplaced it, eh?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. I know precisely where she was when I left her. I suspect that Ching Shih stole her."

Master Li laughed heartily and slapped his thigh. Then he and the stranger switched to rapid conversation in a barbarian tongue, leaving me even more bewildered than before. Finally Master Li straightened up and switched back to a real language.

"My surname is Li and my personal name is Kao, and there is a slight flaw in my character," he said with a bow, "and I will help you find your Pearl." He then turned to me. "Come, Ox, we have some shopping to do."
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: Babylon 5/NCIS crossover
Characters: Marcus & Abby
--

"Can I-"

"No."

"But what if I-"

"No."

"Why not-"

"No."

"B-"

"No."

"Maaaarrrrrcuussssss," Abby whined and pouted so cutely that Marcus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Then her lower lip began to wobble, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Look," he said, giving in a little, "it's not that I doubt your ability to learn the controls. I'm sure you'd make a superb pilot with the proper training. But now isn't exactly the best time!" He paused and maneuvered their Mimbari Flyer a little lower into the atmosphere. A quick glance at one display told him that the Earth Alliance vessel was still on their tail.

"And beside," he continued, "it's blastedly hard to fly this thing without learning all three of the Mimbari languages."

"I guess," Abby replied, sounded defeated. Then she sighed. "I just hate feeling so useless."

A quick glance over at his companion told Marcus that she was fighting off tears by stubbornness alone, and he risked taking his hands off the controls to give her a quick hug. The girl had borne up remarkably well under all the pressure, but he could see she was nearing the ends of her reserves.

"You're not useless, Abs. Without you, we would be flying around completely blind. Now we at least have a fighting chance."

"Oh!" she exclaimed with a catch in her voice. "You called me 'Abs'. I didn't think anyone but G-Gibbs would call me that."

"We'll find him," he promised, patting her hand, "we'll get him back."
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: Lackey's Valdemar/Babylon 5 crossover
Characters: Kerowyn & Susan Ivanova
--

Kero tugged at the collar of her uniform in annoyance and tried once again to do something with her hair that both looked professional and kept it out of the way.

"Whatever man decided that these uniforms needed a highneck stiff collar obviously never had to brush the snarls out from the hair at the base of his neck," came a sardonic voice from the doorway.

Kero paused with her hands above her head and gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. "Commander."

"Captain."

"Is there something I can help you with, Susan?" Kero asked around a mouth full of hair pins.

"I just came to see if you needed any help getting ready. Delenn had to help me into this monstrosity, so I thought you might need some help yourself," Susan said with a distasteful look at her own elaborate uniform.

"Well, it's not quite as bad as some of the high court gear I've had to wear at times, but it was certainly a challenge. Did you manage to get anyone to explain to you why they're dressing us up like dolls for this. . . ceremony?" Kero asked, practically spitting out the last word.

Susan sighed and made a face. "Diplomatics. The Iffali are extraordinarily grateful for our assistance and wish to show it. Therefore it would be 'impolitic, impolite and a damned bad idea' not to let them show their gratitude."

"A direct quote from Captain Sheridan, I take it?"

"Of course." Then Susan gave a wicked grin, one of the few true smiles Kero had seen from the other woman. "But I think we get our revenge - if you think our uniforms are bad, you should see what they're making the men wear. Delenn said John was trying to figure out which end was up on his when she left. And -"

"And?"

"Part of the ceremony involves a mock sword-fight between the Captain and the Iffali leader."

Kero's eyes sparkled. Suddenly this ceremony didn't seem quite so bad.

"I think it's about time we showed the gentlemen what a proper entrance looks like, don't you?"
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: NCIS/Babylon 5 crossover
Characters: Susan Ivanova & Ziva David
--

"Well, I think that just about covers every possibility, don't you?" Sheridan asked, looking around the table.

"No." The response was oddly stereo, and it took him a minute to realize that it had come from the two women sitting on each side of him.

"Commander? Agent David? You have something to add?"

Ivanova shrugged. "We haven't even mentioned the possibility of telepathic spies, alien technology, spontaneous combustion - "

"Natural disasters, weapons malfunctions, bribery or misunderstand," David picked up right where Susan had left off.

"Did you two rehearse that or something?" Garibaldi asked, bemused.

Ziva David rolled her eyes. "It is merely common sense. I try to operate on the theory that if I can think of it, it could happen. That goes doubly for ways in which a plan could go wrong." Ivanova nodded in agreement.

"Are you two always this pessimistic?" Franklin asked.

Ivanova shrugged. "I am Russian, we don't do optimism," she replied, at the same time David said "I'm Israeli, we have a lot of experience with things going wrong."

Sheridan merely dropped his head into his hands and whimpered quietly.
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: Eddings (Belgariad/Mallorean)/Buffy crossover
Characters: Garion & Wesley
--

It was one of those conversations that could have only taken place after too little sleep and too much alcohol.

"If you could go back in time and tell yourself anything, what would it be?" Wesley asked as he slumped back on one of the beat up couches in the lounge. He was rumpled and beat up, a far cry from his usual immaculate presentation.

Garion gave him a sharp look, but Wes held up one hand. "No, no," he amended hastily, "I haven't found a way to actually do that. It was more in the nature of a hypothetical question."

"Oh, okay," Garion said, relaxing back into his own seat. "Don't scare me like that. Grandfather has forbidden me from mucking around with time until I'm at least 5000, and given how mad he got when I started playing with the weather, I don't even want to think about the lecture I would get if I didn't listen."

Both men shuddered at the thought. Being on the receiving end of one of Belgarath's blistering lectures was not something either one wanted to experience again.

"I think," Garion said slowly, taking another sip of his drink, "that I would tell myself not to be such a whiny little boy. That chosen family is more important than anything, that Aunt Pol and Grandfather will love me no matter what, and that most of all, Life. Is. Not. Fair." He punctuated each word with a tap on the chair, causing his drink to slosh. "And so I need to stop complaining about it and just deal with it."

Wesley chuckled. "Amen."

"What 'bout you?"

"To get over myself, get the pole out of my arse, and open my eyes. That life cannot be lived in books and reality is far more exciting than any historical chronicle. Oh, and never, ever to get romantically involved with a demon."

Whatever Garion might have replied was cut off by a siren sounding through the room. Both men groaned.

"Can't it be someone else's turn to save the multi-verse?" Garion muttered.

"You'd think they'd give us a few moment's peace. Not fair," Wesley agreed.

"Duty calls," Garion sighed and placed a hand on each of their foreheads. A brief surge of Will, and the two men were sobered up.

Wesley suddenly grinned as he reholstered his weapons. "But I don't waaaaaannnnnaaaaa," he whined.

"It's not faaaaiiiiiirrrrrrr," Garion whined back as he shouldered Irongrip's sword.

"Do we haaavvveee to?" they asked in unison as they went to meet up with the rest of the team.
velvetfiction: (chocolate&magic)
Fandom: Lackey's Valdemar/X-Men crossover
Characters: Tarma, Keth, Warrl & Logan
--

The creature lay unmoving in the small clearing in the stand of trees. It was fortunate it was not winter, or Tarma would have worried about it (him?) freezing to death. But as it was late spring, predators - four legged and two - were the biggest concern.

"Changechild?" she quietly asked her partner.

"Hmm," Kethry replied, a frown marring her normally cheerful face. "I would say yes - there is something decidedly animalistic about this one - but there is no trace of magic at all."

"None at all? Strange, this close to the Peligars."

:None, Mindmate,: Warrl confirmed. :It is as if he has never been exposed to magic. At least not as we know it.:

The creature moaned, cutting off further discussion. With silent hand signals, Tarma sent Kethry and Warrl out of sight. Tarma leaned against a tree and waited for the creature to awaken.

The creature groaned again and half propped himself up on his elbows. "Ugh, did anyone catch the number of the truck that just ran me over?" he asked, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

Tarma was mildly surprised that she could understand him, but replied in the same common trade tongue. "I know not of what you speak, stranger, but if you are in need of assistance, I shall provide what I can."

Faster than Tarma could believe, she found herself pinned against the tree by three wicked-looking daggers, one on either side of her neck, one just barely touching her throat. She blinked once, her only sign of surprise. Then in another heartbeat, Tarma's own dagger was at the stranger's throat.

"See, I can do that too," she said coldly. "Although mine are not attached. Tell me, do you find it to be a great advantage, having your daggers embedded into your hand?"

With a snort that Tarma suspected was a sign of amusement, the stranger stepped back, and she watched in fascination as the blades retreated into his hand and the cuts rapidly healed.

"Occasionally," he replied. "Sure beats having them out of reach when I need them. Does make them tough to throw, though."

The corner of Tarma's mouth twitched. "Shall we try introductions again, this time without the edged weaponry? I am Tarma shena Tale'sedrin, Swordsworn of the Warrior. Not that I expect that to mean anything to you."

"Huh. Name's Logan. And you're right, it doesn't mean anything to me. Why don't you ask the other two to come out here so we can all be properly introduced."

"I'm impressed, Mr. Logan," Kethry said, stepping back into the clearing. "Most people would not have detected our presence. I am called Kethry."

"'m not most people," Logan replied with a shrug, eying the mage with faint curiosity.

:No, you are not, warrior,: Warrl said, appearing at Tarma's side. :I am known as Warrl.:

To his credit, Logan seemed to be barely phased by the kyree. He merely gave Warrl a hard look and then muttered "Great, another damned telepath," mostly under his breath.

"I am impressed, sir," Tarma said with a chuckle. "Most people react to our strange little group much more than you have."

Logan gave her another long, considering stare. "One of my fr- someone I know is 6 feet tall, weighs 400 pounds and is covered in bright blue fur. Another can shoot lasers out of his eyes," he finally said in an off-hand manner. "My definition of 'weird' ain't what most peoples is." He paused and looked around. "So you wanna tell me where the hell 'here' is and how I got here?"

After a quick glance at Keth and a brief mind-touch with Warrl, Tarma smiled. "If you will come back to our camp with us, we will see about answering all of your questions. I suspect that for every one we answer, it will generate three more."

"Isn't that how it always works?" Logan asked sourly. "Lead on, then, warrior."
velvetfiction: (Default)
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS/TOS)/Buffy crossover
Characters: McCoy & Giles
--

"She's a what?"

"A vampire slayer."

"This little china doll? You're kidding, right? And wait, that means vampires exist?"

Giles sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, doctor, you've been to many different worlds, correct? And you've seen anatomies that most people couldn't comprehend? Your ship's own first officer has green blood, does he not?"

"So you're saying I should - "

"Just think of vampires as a humanoid race who's metabolism has been modified to take nutrients from blood rather than food, yes."

McCoy sighed. "Fine, but that still doesn't explain what they're doing on earth."

Giles smiled slightly. "Think of the Hellmouth as an intergalactic portal, allowing beings from many different planets to arrive here. It may even be true for all we know."

"Fine. I'm a doctor, not a priest. I don't try to understand where these demons come from. But what does all that have to do with her?" the doctor asked, indicating the small form stretched out on the couch in front of them.

"Buffy is, as I said, a vampire slayer. She's been gifted with skills above and beyond what a human would normally possess - increased strength, quickened reflexes, accelerated healing, the usual things. She was in a fight two days ago and was hit with a beam of - something. Her own healing does not seem to be enough in this case. It is my hope that your advanced medicine will be - or can at least tell us what is wrong with her." Giles looked at the other man beseechingly. "Please, doctor, we need her more than you could possibly know. And right now she needs you."

McCoy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Alright, let's see what we can find," he agreed, and knelt beside the prone girl.

Giles let out a sigh of relief. Now, at least, there was a chance.
velvetfiction: (chocolate&magic)
Fandom: Eddings's Belgariad/Tamuli crossover
Characters: Danae & Eriond
--

"He's being so stubborn about it," Danae complained. "It's not as though he doesn't know who I am. He's known that since before the wedding. And yet he refuses to let me fix this."

Eriond smiled and lay his hand on the shoulder of the frustrated princess. Danae's features softened briefly, but then she scowled and pulled away.

"Don't do that, Eriond. I taught you that trick, remember?"

"And yet it still works on you," he replied in amusement.

"Don't change the subject," she replied tartly. "You're supposed to be telling me how to get through to my oh-so-stubborn husband, remember?"

"Have you tried asking your father? I imagine Sparhawk would be more of an authority on this subject than I am."

"I tried. He just tells me that I chose to take a form that would require I grow up, and that this is part of being an adult and a princess," Danae grumped, throwing herself down on one of the many benches that lined the courtyard.

Eriond frowned. "He's right you know. And princesses don't flop, Danae. Nor do goddesses," he reprimanded her.

Danae stuck her tongue out. "You've spent too much time with Polgara. And I should have known you'd take father's side in this."

"Because you know we're both right. Look," he asked as he sat down next to her, "have you tried asking Talen why he objects so much? You can't hope to convince him if you don't know why he's objecting in the first place."

"No. . ." Danae replied sheepishly. "I guess I should do that, shouldn't I?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Thank you, dear brother, I'll go try that." With a quick kiss on Eriond's cheek, Danae trotted off. Eriond shook his head in amusement. Even he wasn't immune to her kisses. Talen didn't stand a chance.
velvetfiction: (Default)
Written for the prompt "McGonagall, Sprout, and Hooch on tea break in the teachers' lounge, complaining about: a. Dumbledore; b. students; c. another teacher."

--

Pomona Sprout collapsed into a chair with an un-graceful thump.

"Remind me again why I ever thought becoming a teacher would be a good idea?"

"Because the alternative was to marry whatshisname and you had too much sense to do that?" a voice above her replied. Pomona opened her eyes to find a cup of tea levitating in front of her.

"Oh bless you, Rolanda," she replied and grasped the tea cup, letting the warmth soak into her aching hands. "On days like this I wonder if becoming Mrs. George Whitterby might not have been the safer choice."

"What happened?" Minerva asked, looking up from the pile of parchment she was grading.

"Miss Jessie Laband happened. I love that girl dearly, but Hufflepuff or not, I will be thrilled when she no longer has to take Herbology."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "That bad?"

Pomona closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory of chasing down three dozen leaping toadstools. "That bad. The girl is as bad at Herbology as Longbottom is good."

"Don't let Severus hear you say that," Rolanda comment with a chuckle. "I've already been treated to three rants this week about the incompetence of Longbottom and the idiocy of Potter."

"That man," Minerva spat, "wouldn't acknowledge talent in a Gryffindor if his life depended on it."

Whatever Pomona might have replied was cut off by the wall calendar chiming loudly.

"Oh what now?" Rolanda groaned and went to check the calendar. "Merlin save us," she swore. "Albus has called another staff meeting. That's the fifth one in the last two weeks!"

She and Pomona turned to the Deputy Headmistress.

Minerva held up her hands in frustration. "Don't look at me, ladies. I'm finding out about these when you are." She gathered her papers with a sigh. "I suppose we should be off and find out what nonsense Albus is inflicting on us this time."

"Fine," Pomona replied, heaving herself to her feet. "But I give you fair warning now, Minerva - if he tries to make us do any more of those 'team building' exercises, I shall walk out the door and lock myself in greenhouse two until the spring!"
velvetfiction: (Default)
Written for the prompt "Remus/Tonks early in their aquaintance, prior to the whole, 'too old, too poor' stuff. Just hangin' at Grimmauld Place."

--

"Oh I don't know, Padfoot, I think it gives me a distinguished air."

"Distinguished is not the word I would have chosen, Moony. Tell him, Dora."

Tonks looked up from her magazine at the sound of her cousin's voice. When Moody had told her he had some people he wanted her to meet earlier in the summer, being reintroduced to her supposedly mass-murdering cousin was not what she had expected. But after all the shouting and explanations had finished, she was thrilled to reconnect with Sirius. She had vague memories of him visiting when she was younger, always having time or a sweet for her.

"Tell who what, Siri?"

"Tell this idiot," he gestured to Remus who had followed him into the room, "that the - the - thing - on his upper lip cannot be considered a mustache and certainly doesn't make him look distinguished!"

Tonks giggled and unabashedly studied Remus, who colored slightly under her frank gaze. "I think it's kind of cute," she replied.

"Bah!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Betrayed! Betrayed by my own kin, I tell you!" he cried, and threw himself in an armchair in a way that would have made his mother scream like a banshee.

"Thank you, Tonks. I always knew you had better taste than the mutt," Remus replied politely as sat down next to her in a far more controlled manner.

"Hey, now! I'm not sure that can be considered a compliment!" she complained with a sparkle in her eyes.

"True. It doesn't take much to achieve that, does it?"

"Oi! You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here you know!" Sirius pouted.

"Oh go chase your tail, Siri!" Tonks admonished. Practically before she finished speaking, she found herself being mercilessly attacked by a very wet dog's tongue while Remus slid to the floor in helpless laughter.
velvetfiction: (Default)
Written for the prompt "Somehow... whether in the Afterlife or via a portrait, etc... Snape and Dumbledore talking about Neville after the Final Battle, when Snape learns more about Neville's bravery."

--

"So what do we think of the new professors?"

It was a traditional question, one asked by Headmaster Everard Litcomb every year after the first staff meeting. As the oldest surviving portrait, it was his right and privilege to begin the discussion.

"Hmph," sniffed Headmistress Charity Appleblossom. "Too young by far. In my day - "

"In your day witches and wizards were required to serve ten year apprenticeships before anyone would even consider letting them teach anything," Headmaster Phineas Black interrupted wearily. "As we've told you every year, Charity, times have changed. We can't judge today's staff by our own."

"Well I for one am delighted to see Miss Patil and Mr. Longbottom joining the staff," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore proclaimed. "They were both fine students and - " He was interrupted by an indignant snort that came from his left.

"Do you have something to add, Headmaster Snape?" Headmaster Litcomb asked pointedly. Few of the Headmasters believed Snape deserved his place on the wall along side them, but Hogwarts's magic refused to let his painting be removed, and so he remained.

"Patil might have been a passable student, but Longbottom always was and every will be an incompetent idiot. How he got sorted into Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff I'll never understand."

"He survived seven years in the same castle with you," Black pointed out over the indignant squawks of the former Hufflepuffs. "That certainly shows a certain amount of courage."

"Bah. Cowardice, you mean. Never once did I see him stand up for himself," Snape retorted.

"I'd hardly call defying Tom to his face and killing Nagini an act of cowardice, Severus," Dumbledore chided gently.

"He - what?"

"Did you truly never know? He was the one - not Harry - who slew the snake that killed you."

"Drew Gryffindor's own sword, to do it too!" crowed Headmaster Dexter Fortescue.

Snape opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. "Hmmh," he finally said. "Perhaps the boy isn't useless after all."

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