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crack_van2004-09-15 11:16 pm
simplystars.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-09-15 11:16 pm
Crosses and Naughts by Thea (Farscape/Firefly, NC-17)
Fandom: FARSCAPE/FIREFLY
Pairing: Aeryn Sun, Mal Reynolds
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thassalia
Author Website: none
Why this must be read:
My best friends are Browncoats. I, however, am not... at least, not yet. But if there is one thing that might lure me to the Serenity side, it would be this crossover fic by Thea, written for Multiverse 2004.
Thea's Mal is down on his luck but irrepressible, witty, decent and strong; her Aeryn is desperately controlled and determined, iron-willed but with an unextinguishable compassion despite dire circumstances. By the end of this fabulous fic--chock full of action, angst, reflection, humor, and hope--I'd fallen for a new 'ship.
"You were warned, Reynolds," Riis took a deep breath and bared tobacco stained teeth. "Consider this your second chance. Prepare to meet your maker."
He smiled, feral and ugly, and Mal looked up under his eyelashes, waiting for the order to fire, but instead, Riis just launched into another tirade on disrespect, and examples being made. As the grey-eyed mercenary coldly refused to strip down for him in his head, Mal sighed, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Oh, just put me outta my gorram misery, Riis, Or are you plannin' on boring me death?" he muttered.
He'd never been a man intent on hastening his own death, but this was intolerable. And then he heard the snort coming from the direction of the guards. It was a sort of… feminine… snort, and Mal's gaze shifted up to the side.
There was no trace of a smile on the woman's strong features, no hint of any sort of humor, but Mal knew what he'd heard. All right, he thought, least I'm gonna die with a smile on my face, if not with honor. But after Serenity Valley, he hadn't earmarked himself for that kind of death anyway.
"Any last words?" Riis drawled, fondling the butt of his gun, and Mal realized that the speech had finally drawn to a close.
"Some things are worse than death, Riis and at least I won't have to listen to you bellyache anymore," he said, practically relieved, knowing this was true, having seen and lived so many of those things. He smiled wide and ready.
"String him up boys!" Riis ordered, and the thugs, confused, tried to holster their weapons and simultaneously reach for Mal.
Farel Riis's neck exploded.
Mal rocked back as far as he could, the ropes rubbing his skin raw, fumbled for balance, sure he was seeing things, but the blood, bright and spraying, covered the floor like tempera paint. Riis choked and gurgled, mouth gaping, his big, beefy form flopping forward like an overgrown fish in a tiny pond. The dark haired woman had her gun down by her side before any one else moved. Then the room exploded into confusion.
Blood ran down Mal's forehead and he wriggled his arms back and forth working the ropes that held him, ducking, throat constricting at the hot smell of blood and death. He tried to arch back on his knees and a felt the sizzling zing of a bullet next to his cheek.
He heard a muttered, "Frell. Fuck," and angled to the side in time to see the woman nail another guard between the eyes with a shot. She elbowed the guard beside her in the temple with enough force to cause an audible crack, and gunfire sounded around them as Riis' court devolved into the brawling, scratching mob that they truly were. Didn't take more than a second for someone to see that the king was dead, long live the next son of a bitch who could claw his way to the top. The hangar was in chaos, bullets and light, the scent of blood glowing copper bright, shouts and screams as assassination paved the way for a new coronation.
One of the few guards to keep his cool spotted Mal in the midst of the commotion, and eyes narrowing, raised his gun arm. His head popped like a cherry and the guard toppled forward.
"Grab that," the woman yelled to him, kicking the downed guard's shotgun over to Mal, and ducking down as a bullet lanced her arm. She growled, and took out the shooter, dropping to one knee, then rolled over her back onto her feet through the swath of Riis's darkening blood. The black stickiness smearing across the metal floor somehow kicked Mal into gear.
"With what?" he bellowed back, "My teeth?"
She was behind him, breath hot in his ear, breasts soft against his back. A rip and a tug preceded bright pain as his shoulder slid to the edge of its socket, and then his hands were free.
"Not with your teeth," she said low and fierce, shooting over his head and hitting a guy in the corner two fisting a pair of stylized dueling pistols.
"Go," she growled again. He went.
Crosses and Naughts
Pairing: Aeryn Sun, Mal Reynolds
Author on LJ:
thassaliaAuthor Website: none
Why this must be read:
My best friends are Browncoats. I, however, am not... at least, not yet. But if there is one thing that might lure me to the Serenity side, it would be this crossover fic by Thea, written for Multiverse 2004.
Thea's Mal is down on his luck but irrepressible, witty, decent and strong; her Aeryn is desperately controlled and determined, iron-willed but with an unextinguishable compassion despite dire circumstances. By the end of this fabulous fic--chock full of action, angst, reflection, humor, and hope--I'd fallen for a new 'ship.
"You were warned, Reynolds," Riis took a deep breath and bared tobacco stained teeth. "Consider this your second chance. Prepare to meet your maker."
He smiled, feral and ugly, and Mal looked up under his eyelashes, waiting for the order to fire, but instead, Riis just launched into another tirade on disrespect, and examples being made. As the grey-eyed mercenary coldly refused to strip down for him in his head, Mal sighed, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Oh, just put me outta my gorram misery, Riis, Or are you plannin' on boring me death?" he muttered.
He'd never been a man intent on hastening his own death, but this was intolerable. And then he heard the snort coming from the direction of the guards. It was a sort of… feminine… snort, and Mal's gaze shifted up to the side.
There was no trace of a smile on the woman's strong features, no hint of any sort of humor, but Mal knew what he'd heard. All right, he thought, least I'm gonna die with a smile on my face, if not with honor. But after Serenity Valley, he hadn't earmarked himself for that kind of death anyway.
"Any last words?" Riis drawled, fondling the butt of his gun, and Mal realized that the speech had finally drawn to a close.
"Some things are worse than death, Riis and at least I won't have to listen to you bellyache anymore," he said, practically relieved, knowing this was true, having seen and lived so many of those things. He smiled wide and ready.
"String him up boys!" Riis ordered, and the thugs, confused, tried to holster their weapons and simultaneously reach for Mal.
Farel Riis's neck exploded.
Mal rocked back as far as he could, the ropes rubbing his skin raw, fumbled for balance, sure he was seeing things, but the blood, bright and spraying, covered the floor like tempera paint. Riis choked and gurgled, mouth gaping, his big, beefy form flopping forward like an overgrown fish in a tiny pond. The dark haired woman had her gun down by her side before any one else moved. Then the room exploded into confusion.
Blood ran down Mal's forehead and he wriggled his arms back and forth working the ropes that held him, ducking, throat constricting at the hot smell of blood and death. He tried to arch back on his knees and a felt the sizzling zing of a bullet next to his cheek.
He heard a muttered, "Frell. Fuck," and angled to the side in time to see the woman nail another guard between the eyes with a shot. She elbowed the guard beside her in the temple with enough force to cause an audible crack, and gunfire sounded around them as Riis' court devolved into the brawling, scratching mob that they truly were. Didn't take more than a second for someone to see that the king was dead, long live the next son of a bitch who could claw his way to the top. The hangar was in chaos, bullets and light, the scent of blood glowing copper bright, shouts and screams as assassination paved the way for a new coronation.
One of the few guards to keep his cool spotted Mal in the midst of the commotion, and eyes narrowing, raised his gun arm. His head popped like a cherry and the guard toppled forward.
"Grab that," the woman yelled to him, kicking the downed guard's shotgun over to Mal, and ducking down as a bullet lanced her arm. She growled, and took out the shooter, dropping to one knee, then rolled over her back onto her feet through the swath of Riis's darkening blood. The black stickiness smearing across the metal floor somehow kicked Mal into gear.
"With what?" he bellowed back, "My teeth?"
She was behind him, breath hot in his ear, breasts soft against his back. A rip and a tug preceded bright pain as his shoulder slid to the edge of its socket, and then his hands were free.
"Not with your teeth," she said low and fierce, shooting over his head and hitting a guy in the corner two fisting a pair of stylized dueling pistols.
"Go," she growled again. He went.
Crosses and Naughts