Charloween (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charloween) wrote2008-05-22 11:50 am
charloween) wrote2008-05-22 11:50 am
Entry tags:
Krissy's birthday fic, aka "I made a fic!"
Once upon a time, there were lj comment-drabbles: wee ficlets about the Serenity crew and knitting. And then came March and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
firstgold's birthday. I polished those drabbles and wrote this to sent it to her (which I did!). She was okay with me posting it, but then RL ate my life and I shamefully neglected my poor lj. Now that I'm back, some months later, is Krissy's birthday fic (that still needs a proper title).
In the spirit of sharing, I give you:
"That Firefly Fic I Wrote For Krissy's Birthday"
1500 words, no warnings, set around the time of "Objects In Space"
In which knitting invades Serenity and Mal is confused.
As far as Mal could say, it all started the day when Kaylee brought that first bit of string home. Mal had taken Zoe and Jayne on a job, leaving the others to resupply, see the sights and otherwise enjoy themselves without making a fuss.
In one of the meager shops, Kaylee had picked up the unexpectedly soft wool – Inara caught herself being surprised that there was such a product for sale on this world, expecting it to be coarse, she'd made a noise of astonishment when Kaylee had handed it to her – and told Inara how her grandmother had always knit beautiful thick sweaters and socks. But Kaylee was always her father's little greasemonkey, more interested in coaxing tired drives back to life than in her grandmother's crafts. So Kaylee used part of her share to buy the wool, and resolved that she'd find instructions somewhere on the cortex. Simon might have a sweater for a present...
Mal couldn't rightly see the value of wasting perfectly good money on string, but when pressed, couldn't deny that clothing was fairly necessary (in his line of work, Inara) and also knitting is a viable way of producing clothes, so he'd allow it.
By that point River and Kaylee were already in the middle of re-winding the string from one shape to another.
“What's the use of that? It was a perfectly good ball of string beforehand and....”
“And, Captain, it's going to be a better ball of string when it's done.”
“Y'all are talking about balls,” piped in Jayne.
That's one thing about Jayne, thought Mal. He's consistent.
x
Inara had got into the habit of bringing little gifts for the others on her trips to fancier parts of the outer planets, and on her next trip it was a ball of shiny string for Kaylee. Mal wondered where this was headed. The first ball of string, he could see, was still mostly a ball of string and hadn't yet migrated into a pair of socks as yet. And now there was another ball of string, this time purple and sparkly. Mal wasn't sure string should be sparkly. It wasn't natural. He wasn't sure if he approved.
Soon there were several balls of string each with its own half-scarf dangling off it, and Mal wasn't sure if their main business was smuggling or handicrafts. Jayne had taken to cleaning his guns with greater flourish than usual.
Free evenings were punctuated by the sound of needles clicking together, as Kaylee and Inara worked out how to change perfectly innocent string – yarn, Mal was informed – into endless piles of candy-coloured hats, scarves and mittens. Kaylee kept her engine room tidy enough, but seemed just as gifted in leaving finished projects around the ship as she was with getting machines to work. Mal dropped a few hints about socks, which had yet to appear.
Zoe had held out for a few weeks before producing a set of gorgeous rosewood needles.
“My great-grandmother's needles,” she explained. “Where do you think Wash got that sweater from, anyway?”
Only Jayne and Mal himself seemed immune to the current plague of needlecrafts. Book confessed he'd always made his own socks at the monastery and Simon admitted to whiling away on-call hours crocheting. He looked hurt when Jayne guffawed.
“No, it really did help me relax,” Simon protested. “I found it incredibly relaxing.”
Somehow, they'd managed to spend the next three hours working out how to do some complicated stitch that Zoe knew but the others didn't.
There had been some whispered discussion about whether or not to allow River near knitting needles, but when she ignored the needles altogether and started knitting with chopsticks the point was quietly declared moot.
In retaliation for all the knitting camaraderie oozing about the ship, Mal washed the dishes as loud as he could. It was his night for that chore, but that didn't mean the others could enjoy themselves while their captain was busy keeping their home in the air. Or clean dishes in the cupboard. He told them as much, and then dodged a purple something aimed at his head. He wasn't quick enough to dodge the something's mate.
He glared at the innocent-looking trio at the table. Zoe waved a needle aimlessly. “Sorry sir. Just slipped, I guess.”
Mal looked down at the somethings and realized with horror that it was a pair of purple socks. Hideously purple socks.
xxx
From that day on, Mal put a moratorium on bobbles, pom-poms and all those other frilly bits of frippery. Jayne did fine with just the one puff on top of that candy-corn hat of his, but there was no plain-thinking reason why the entire gorram ship needed to be yarned to within an inch of her poor existence. The sickest part of it was that he'd started expecting to see new cushion covers every time he walked by the couches.
He tried hinting that sweaters would be nice, plain socks and other practical things, but River and Kaylee seemed to be engaged in a pom-off, trying to see who could create the most lurid fluff ball. Thanks to Inara's trips to the finer sides of their ports of call, the 'verse had never seen such fancy socks.
However. After Mal found another gorram scarf where the tea should be, Inara (ever the perceptive one) stopped bringing back the most outrageous yarns she could find. Instead, she started finding premium wool, real fancy stuff, shorn from hand-fed sheep, hand-spun by nekkid maidens, and dyed in angel tears so far as he could tell. The stuff had to be enchanted for string, yarn, whatever, to cost as much as a whole bushel of peaches.
After one stop, River stared at the pile of stringy bundles spilling out of Inara's bag for a full minute before grabbing a fistful and rushing off to her room. Simon started after her, but she called back something indecipherable about borrowing a blue shoe on Thursday to be the proper wife on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes you're safer not to ask.
Mal did wonder if she sometimes used her crazy like he used his bullets, shooting one off into the air when faced with hostile forces and strategically retreating while the enemy worked out whether or not they'd been shot.
At any rate, that night when they tried to call her to dinner they were met with a snarl and a furious clicking sound. "It might be best to leave her," said Simon, and the rest of the crew agreed.
Three days later, they landed on some dusty moon that looked near enough the last dusty moon to cause Jayne to question Wash's aptitude as navigator. Since the Great Knitting Invasion, Kaylee and River had begun setting up a small table with their scarves and such for sale just outside the cargo bay while the others resupplied. Everyone on the crew had more than enough knitwear to last them until eternity. Let the rest of the 'verse have a little bit of brightness, was Kaylee's explanation.
Mal couldn't rightly argue with that.
Around mid-day, a young woman about Kaylee's age wandered over, drawn like a patron at a freak show to what Mal'd privately termed the Purple Socks of Hideousity.
“They'll never sell,” he explained. “No one wants exploded grapes on their feet.”
Kaylee's customer turned over a few of the articles, but she looked more like someone who needed a hug and a cup of tea than someone who was going to buy a shawl or toque. Particularly because this moon seemed to be in late spring.
Just then, River emerged from the ship clutching a confusion of knots. River thrust the white tangle at the startled girl, who shook it out to reveal the most delicate lace veil Kaylee'd ever seen.
"Something new", said River. "The design proved initially problematic, but significant obstacles were overcome to procure the last of the four symbols needed for matrimonial ceremonies conducted under archaic superstitions. Ask Lissa for the shoes, she's been hiding them in the back shed." Both River and the girl blinked. River cocked her head, still staring at the poor confused dirtsider. "I wish you the best on your day of bliss."
The girl sputtered out how she couldn't afford something so fine, but Kaylee just shrugged. "Don't worry about that. She must've found the banns on the Cortex and made it for you." After a few minutes the girl was convinced River didn't mean any harm, and both veil and girl vanished into the dusty town.
Hours later, Mal and the others returned. River greeted the case of dried foodstuffs with a grave nod, and disappeared into the ship to "help the new protein get acquainted with the ship." As Kaylee handed over Zoe's cut of the knit money, the others observed that River had finally left her room. "Turns out there was a bad fire hereabouts and River'd made up an exact copy some girl's great-grandmother's veil she'd been fixing on wearing at her own wedding come Sunday."
River's voice floated out of the cargo bay, humming a wedding march.
“She left these for you, Captain.” Kaylee handed over a small wrapped bundle.
Inside were the plainest, most simple pair of socks Mal had ever seen. Mal clapped Simon on the shoulder. “Sometimes,” he said, “Sometimes that sister of yours ain't that bad.”
The end!
...and if you can come up with a proper title for this, I'm open to suggestions. :D
firstgold's birthday. I polished those drabbles and wrote this to sent it to her (which I did!). She was okay with me posting it, but then RL ate my life and I shamefully neglected my poor lj. Now that I'm back, some months later, is Krissy's birthday fic (that still needs a proper title).In the spirit of sharing, I give you:
"That Firefly Fic I Wrote For Krissy's Birthday"
1500 words, no warnings, set around the time of "Objects In Space"
In which knitting invades Serenity and Mal is confused.
As far as Mal could say, it all started the day when Kaylee brought that first bit of string home. Mal had taken Zoe and Jayne on a job, leaving the others to resupply, see the sights and otherwise enjoy themselves without making a fuss.
In one of the meager shops, Kaylee had picked up the unexpectedly soft wool – Inara caught herself being surprised that there was such a product for sale on this world, expecting it to be coarse, she'd made a noise of astonishment when Kaylee had handed it to her – and told Inara how her grandmother had always knit beautiful thick sweaters and socks. But Kaylee was always her father's little greasemonkey, more interested in coaxing tired drives back to life than in her grandmother's crafts. So Kaylee used part of her share to buy the wool, and resolved that she'd find instructions somewhere on the cortex. Simon might have a sweater for a present...
Mal couldn't rightly see the value of wasting perfectly good money on string, but when pressed, couldn't deny that clothing was fairly necessary (in his line of work, Inara) and also knitting is a viable way of producing clothes, so he'd allow it.
By that point River and Kaylee were already in the middle of re-winding the string from one shape to another.
“What's the use of that? It was a perfectly good ball of string beforehand and....”
“And, Captain, it's going to be a better ball of string when it's done.”
“Y'all are talking about balls,” piped in Jayne.
That's one thing about Jayne, thought Mal. He's consistent.
x
Inara had got into the habit of bringing little gifts for the others on her trips to fancier parts of the outer planets, and on her next trip it was a ball of shiny string for Kaylee. Mal wondered where this was headed. The first ball of string, he could see, was still mostly a ball of string and hadn't yet migrated into a pair of socks as yet. And now there was another ball of string, this time purple and sparkly. Mal wasn't sure string should be sparkly. It wasn't natural. He wasn't sure if he approved.
Soon there were several balls of string each with its own half-scarf dangling off it, and Mal wasn't sure if their main business was smuggling or handicrafts. Jayne had taken to cleaning his guns with greater flourish than usual.
Free evenings were punctuated by the sound of needles clicking together, as Kaylee and Inara worked out how to change perfectly innocent string – yarn, Mal was informed – into endless piles of candy-coloured hats, scarves and mittens. Kaylee kept her engine room tidy enough, but seemed just as gifted in leaving finished projects around the ship as she was with getting machines to work. Mal dropped a few hints about socks, which had yet to appear.
Zoe had held out for a few weeks before producing a set of gorgeous rosewood needles.
“My great-grandmother's needles,” she explained. “Where do you think Wash got that sweater from, anyway?”
Only Jayne and Mal himself seemed immune to the current plague of needlecrafts. Book confessed he'd always made his own socks at the monastery and Simon admitted to whiling away on-call hours crocheting. He looked hurt when Jayne guffawed.
“No, it really did help me relax,” Simon protested. “I found it incredibly relaxing.”
Somehow, they'd managed to spend the next three hours working out how to do some complicated stitch that Zoe knew but the others didn't.
There had been some whispered discussion about whether or not to allow River near knitting needles, but when she ignored the needles altogether and started knitting with chopsticks the point was quietly declared moot.
In retaliation for all the knitting camaraderie oozing about the ship, Mal washed the dishes as loud as he could. It was his night for that chore, but that didn't mean the others could enjoy themselves while their captain was busy keeping their home in the air. Or clean dishes in the cupboard. He told them as much, and then dodged a purple something aimed at his head. He wasn't quick enough to dodge the something's mate.
He glared at the innocent-looking trio at the table. Zoe waved a needle aimlessly. “Sorry sir. Just slipped, I guess.”
Mal looked down at the somethings and realized with horror that it was a pair of purple socks. Hideously purple socks.
xxx
From that day on, Mal put a moratorium on bobbles, pom-poms and all those other frilly bits of frippery. Jayne did fine with just the one puff on top of that candy-corn hat of his, but there was no plain-thinking reason why the entire gorram ship needed to be yarned to within an inch of her poor existence. The sickest part of it was that he'd started expecting to see new cushion covers every time he walked by the couches.
He tried hinting that sweaters would be nice, plain socks and other practical things, but River and Kaylee seemed to be engaged in a pom-off, trying to see who could create the most lurid fluff ball. Thanks to Inara's trips to the finer sides of their ports of call, the 'verse had never seen such fancy socks.
However. After Mal found another gorram scarf where the tea should be, Inara (ever the perceptive one) stopped bringing back the most outrageous yarns she could find. Instead, she started finding premium wool, real fancy stuff, shorn from hand-fed sheep, hand-spun by nekkid maidens, and dyed in angel tears so far as he could tell. The stuff had to be enchanted for string, yarn, whatever, to cost as much as a whole bushel of peaches.
After one stop, River stared at the pile of stringy bundles spilling out of Inara's bag for a full minute before grabbing a fistful and rushing off to her room. Simon started after her, but she called back something indecipherable about borrowing a blue shoe on Thursday to be the proper wife on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes you're safer not to ask.
Mal did wonder if she sometimes used her crazy like he used his bullets, shooting one off into the air when faced with hostile forces and strategically retreating while the enemy worked out whether or not they'd been shot.
At any rate, that night when they tried to call her to dinner they were met with a snarl and a furious clicking sound. "It might be best to leave her," said Simon, and the rest of the crew agreed.
Three days later, they landed on some dusty moon that looked near enough the last dusty moon to cause Jayne to question Wash's aptitude as navigator. Since the Great Knitting Invasion, Kaylee and River had begun setting up a small table with their scarves and such for sale just outside the cargo bay while the others resupplied. Everyone on the crew had more than enough knitwear to last them until eternity. Let the rest of the 'verse have a little bit of brightness, was Kaylee's explanation.
Mal couldn't rightly argue with that.
Around mid-day, a young woman about Kaylee's age wandered over, drawn like a patron at a freak show to what Mal'd privately termed the Purple Socks of Hideousity.
“They'll never sell,” he explained. “No one wants exploded grapes on their feet.”
Kaylee's customer turned over a few of the articles, but she looked more like someone who needed a hug and a cup of tea than someone who was going to buy a shawl or toque. Particularly because this moon seemed to be in late spring.
Just then, River emerged from the ship clutching a confusion of knots. River thrust the white tangle at the startled girl, who shook it out to reveal the most delicate lace veil Kaylee'd ever seen.
"Something new", said River. "The design proved initially problematic, but significant obstacles were overcome to procure the last of the four symbols needed for matrimonial ceremonies conducted under archaic superstitions. Ask Lissa for the shoes, she's been hiding them in the back shed." Both River and the girl blinked. River cocked her head, still staring at the poor confused dirtsider. "I wish you the best on your day of bliss."
The girl sputtered out how she couldn't afford something so fine, but Kaylee just shrugged. "Don't worry about that. She must've found the banns on the Cortex and made it for you." After a few minutes the girl was convinced River didn't mean any harm, and both veil and girl vanished into the dusty town.
Hours later, Mal and the others returned. River greeted the case of dried foodstuffs with a grave nod, and disappeared into the ship to "help the new protein get acquainted with the ship." As Kaylee handed over Zoe's cut of the knit money, the others observed that River had finally left her room. "Turns out there was a bad fire hereabouts and River'd made up an exact copy some girl's great-grandmother's veil she'd been fixing on wearing at her own wedding come Sunday."
River's voice floated out of the cargo bay, humming a wedding march.
“She left these for you, Captain.” Kaylee handed over a small wrapped bundle.
Inside were the plainest, most simple pair of socks Mal had ever seen. Mal clapped Simon on the shoulder. “Sometimes,” he said, “Sometimes that sister of yours ain't that bad.”
The end!
...and if you can come up with a proper title for this, I'm open to suggestions. :D