Aliens made them
Apr. 8th, 2005 09:24 pmI'm very fond of "Aliens made them do it" stories. Considered as smut, they've got a lot going for them -- easy method of getting reluctant characters who think they're straight to go to bed together, nice insta-angst afterwards.
Sometimes, though, I can't stop myself from considering them not as smut but as stories.
And then I start thinking: Aliens only ever want slash characters to do four things: Be (or pose as) master and slave; ingest intoxicants; fight; or fuck.
Why not something really useful? Carry water, chop wood, build stuff?
Or something genuinely entertaining? Dance? Sing?
Or, for unfathomable alien reasons, crochet?
Sometimes, though, I can't stop myself from considering them not as smut but as stories.
And then I start thinking: Aliens only ever want slash characters to do four things: Be (or pose as) master and slave; ingest intoxicants; fight; or fuck.
Why not something really useful? Carry water, chop wood, build stuff?
Or something genuinely entertaining? Dance? Sing?
Or, for unfathomable alien reasons, crochet?
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Date: 4/9/05 02:36 am (UTC)"My apologies, gentlemen," Fraser replied. "I've just never made a sweater for a Remaran before, and it's been quite a while since I last held a crochet needle. My grandmother taught me during the winters up in Inuvik..."
"Shuuuuut uuuup, eeeaaarthliiiingg," the Remarans hissed, waving their alarmingly large guns at Fraser and Diefenbaker. "Crocheeeeet faaasssteeer, or thee wooolf geeets iiit."
(no subject)
Date: 4/9/05 02:49 am (UTC)"Better hurry, son. I don't like the look in his eye. That--that is an eye, isn't it?"
"Dad, if you don't mind. I'm trying to concentrate here. . ."
"It's an easy stitch son. The rabbit comes out of the hole, runs around the tree, goes back in the hole and. . . No, no, no, wait, wait, wait. . . It's not a rabbit. It's a squirrel that goes up the tree. . ."
Crazy girl.
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Date: 4/9/05 06:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 4/20/05 03:43 am (UTC)I loved this. Perfect characterization too. And that includes the aliens: if I was a small lizard, that is exactly what I'd get from those otherwise useless humans whose sole redeeming feature is their opposable thumb which allows them to crochet all manner of warm fuzzy things. Lizards are cold-blooded, aren't they? :D
The hopping was good too...
Not unfathomable at all, really. :)
(no subject)
Date: 4/9/05 02:37 am (UTC)Awww, now. That's not true.
Sometimes they want them to get married.
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Date: 4/9/05 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/9/05 02:54 am (UTC)Jack shoots him a look of pure venom. "Ooops, he says. Ooops. You, you're just working a crochet hook there, buddy. I'm the one knitting the Iramdi's fucking coronation robe over hear. And you keep talking and I keep dropping goddamn stitches."
"Be silent, both of you!" Teal'c's voice is a whipcrack of annoyance. "I fail to see why either of you complains. I was First Prime of Apophis. I have served as a warrior for over ninety of your years, and I am forced to do ... what is this again, Daniel Jackson?"
"Petty Point," Daniel said helpfully.
"It is unbecoming a warrior," Teal'c grumbled. "And I do not understand why Major Carter is elsewhere."
"Celebration of a thousand tongues," Jack said, and there was something wistful in his tone.
"hrm. Girls only, though," Daniel said, his own voice equally wistful.
"But a man can imagine," Jack said. And then, "Shit. Dropped three. Why couldn't the bastard just need new socks for this?"
B
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Date: 4/9/05 03:15 am (UTC)whoa.
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Date: 4/9/05 09:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/9/05 03:15 am (UTC)A seven-foot-long black tentacle coiled around Jack's throat. Cold, rather fishy-smelling slime oozed under his collar. The coil tightened for a few breath-stopping seconds, then loosened again. The tentacle retreated. Jack took a shaky breath and scrubbed at his neck with his coat sleeve. It didn't help. The stuff was in his hair now. He'd probably have to shave his head now, dammit, just as those dreadlocks in the back were finally starting to look right.
"All right. Fine. I get the idea. Hand over that ball of yarn, will you? The less slimy one, please."
"I told you it wouldn't work," Norrington muttered, not looking up from his embroidery hoop.
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Date: 4/9/05 03:29 am (UTC)::Ded, ded, ded from the giggles::
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Date: 4/9/05 03:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 4/9/05 10:16 am (UTC)Ooo, that icon!
From:totally off topic elephant squee
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Date: 4/9/05 03:59 am (UTC)But just for you:
Han glanced up in amazement. Jedi endurance. There was no other explanation for it. The kid had a fine singing voice, but no mere mortal could keep tap-dancing for four hours straight.
He swore softly as he dropped the loop again. The tiny print on the chart blurred under his eyes and he traced out the row again. Three filled blocks, two mesh, one filled--oh no. Time to rip again. He let the errant loop stay off the hook and unraveled his last 10 stitches.
Luke had launched into a round of "Syle Ghranadie" and Han caught his loop again.
Stupid alien overlords. Stupid psy-droids and their stupid notiotions of rehabilitation. He hadn't handled a hook since he'd finished that last blanket along with a 90 day stretch in the local lock-up.
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Date: 4/9/05 06:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/9/05 09:22 am (UTC)"Look, I don't think it gets any stiffer," Daniel protested. "And besides, my wrists are killing me. Surely it's hard enough now?"
Jack cast a hopeful glance over at the blue-green beastie who was orchestrating this little scene, and then scowled as it shook its head. "Daniel, it's hard enough when the nice alien says it's hard enough."
"This is very embarrassing."
"You're telling me," muttered Jack, his own fingers flying.
"I haven't done this since high school, and having to get it right in front of someone else who can wipe out the entire earth if he isn't happy with my work...well, it's not exactly helping me to concentrate, Jack."
Jack glanced over his shoulder and glared at Daniel, his own fingers a blur of speed. "Daniel, if the nice alien tells you to make him a meringue, you're going to damned well make him a meringue. And I'm going to crochet him a new blankie. And then he's going to go about his business like a nice intergalactic Evil Overlord, and leave our planet alone. You remember our planet? Nice trees, good fishing, delicious steaks? Lots of people? Well, if this is what it takes, Daniel, then this is what we're going to do."
(no subject)
Date: 4/9/05 02:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/9/05 11:11 am (UTC)I definitely think they'd make them do stuff like that, entertain them as the two green guys in The Simpsons and Futurama did.
It would be intelligent to have them demand things we consider boring and they get all titillated and aroused ... hmmm!
(no subject)
Date: 4/9/05 06:39 pm (UTC)And I like the idea of boring stuff. Cut their toenails! File things in alphabetical order! "Er, Ray ... they're starting to drool." "Shut up and keep whittling!"
Wacha mean? Keep whittling what, Ray?!
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Date: 4/10/05 01:13 am (UTC)This is going in the memories.
(You know, you should issue a massive fic challenge. This could rival the zombie challenge and the inappropriate elf challenge. If you do it, I'll help anyway that I can.)
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Date: 4/11/05 09:00 pm (UTC)I've never issued a fic challenge, though, and if I were going to expend whatever fandom cred I might possess on such a thing, it would definitely be sexier ...
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Date: 4/10/05 03:10 pm (UTC)Think of the pretty crocheted place mats for their spaceship tables, so functional and sterile otherwise...
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Date: 4/11/05 08:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/16/05 01:24 am (UTC)"Geez, Malfoy, there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. It's not like anyone would believe me if I went up to them and explained that the Dark Forrest has it's repuatation as Dark because of the extraterestrial activity there."
"Merlin," Draco said, "My hands ache."
Harry snickered. "I'm not sure why the needed a human male to do the knitting for the birthing ritual, but at least they chose the prettier of us to do it."
Draco blinked. "You think I'm pretty? What happened to manly? Or sexy?"
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Date: 4/18/05 07:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 4/16/05 01:34 am (UTC)Duncan pricked a finger with the needle. He stuck it in his mouth hurriedly, lest it drop blood on the tea towel he was embroidering, in a pattern of Scottish thistles and Tudor roses.
"Get over it, MacLeod. Your Scottish masculinity will survive a little crewelwork." Methos snapped. "I, on the other hand, may actually be in trouble here."
"Wha' d'y' mean, Methos? I've never embroidered a thing in my life! You've actually done some of what th' aliens want." Duncan cautiously began stitching again.
Methos drew himself up to his full height and glared. His clothes were covered in white clay chips and bits of paint. "I may be five thousand years old, but I had better things to do with my time -- than Victorian china painting."
Duncan's eyes slid sidewise, toward the small personage in the very large pseudo-Greek helmet who aimed an evil-looking ray gun at them. The Martian, as he'd said he wanted to be called, had declared Methos's last three teacups to be inadequate and had smashed them. He'd sniffed at the tea towel but allowed Duncan's work on it to continue, provided he did no more embroidery outside the lines.
"The thing is," Duncan whispered, "if he's so exacting about the stupid tea towels and cups, what's he going to expect from sex?"
Methos's mouth set firmly. "Precisely. I for one have no desire to be killed pernamently because I did something at a geometrically imprecise angle. Pass me that sugarbowl; I've an idea for something in cabbage roses that I think he'll find fascinating.
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Date: 4/16/05 10:52 am (UTC)*ded*
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Date: 6/6/07 06:25 pm (UTC):-D