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yuletide assignment, and after a moment's deliberation, began grinning madly at the idea of goin' woobie-whompin'. Whee!(InsaneClownPosse!shrift: "Who's goin' woobie-whompin'? I's goin' woobie-whompin'!" "Blood! Guts! Fingers and toes!")
And, if my Secret Santa is checking here, I'm fairly easy to please. I mean, my list of favorite characters goes from the woobie side to the psychotic mofo side. I especially like: banter, sex, humor, drama, angst, kissing, wackiness, hijinks, genderfuck, evilness, hurt/comfort (within reason), and... I'd go on, but the list, she would take awhile.
Gen, het, slash. Girls. Guys. Aliens. Cartoons. Anything goes, really. (See, fannish crackwhore. Also, see Polyamorous Recs for ideas of what I'll say I like in public. But then, there are also Guilty Pleasures. Which is a fine present, as well.)
Okay, of the not-liking-so-much: character assassinations, domestic discipline, hard-core BDSM, bestiality, men crying over spilled milk, Mary Sues, mpreg, and exceedingly purple prose.
But you know what? Anything new in the fandoms I've requested is both nifty and cool. I won't hate you, nor complain about you, no matter what you end up writing.
- Music:Fiona Apple, "Never Is a Promise"
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shrift- a heatwave in your pants
- shrift's fan fiction
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~~~~
John cannot bear to be out of touch with her. During trips to commerce planets, battles, flights in the Prowler, or just about anything, John holds Aeryn's hand. Or wrist. Or wraps his arm around her waist.
Just to be in contact with her. He's amazed at how far they come, how long it took. But now, here they are on Earth, living in a cream colored house in Omaha. There's a Buick parked in the driveway, a dog barking in the backyard, and beer in the fridge.
Aeryn's in the kitchen, apron about her waist, humming some old Diana Ross tune that's on the radio. She's baking cookies and tonight, says she'll bake pie too. She's the perfect wife, she is.
She does all this while pregnant with their child. A boy, John Aeryn Crichton Junior when it comes.
It's a dream come true.
He admires Aeryn's ankles, the way her bare feet move like the marble feet of some statue of a Greek goddess as she makes her way across the sparkling kitchen floor. Hand clamped to her slender, lithe, perfect, muscular-and-yet-maternal forearm, he follows her with dogged determination as she moves to get the sugar from the cute little pig-shaped canister under the rose-pink curtains. (OMG aren't they so adorable?!1!???)
His eyes brim with glistening, glittering tears at the sight of her raven-haired, unearthly beauty, and a single tear slides shimmeringly down his perfectly-chiselled cheek. Finally, he has everything he ever wanted.
What the hell did he ever see in DK, anyhow?
"I love you more than the air we breathe, the grass that grows, the sky that is blue."
Aeryn responds, "I love you more than chocolate ice cream. More than the water in the ocean and the seagulls in the air."
Their hands come together and its almost electric, the current that rockets between them.
"You complete me," John says.
"My life is yours," Aeryn replies.
John steps back, clears his throat and stars to sing.
Through the hourglass I saw you
In time you slipped away
When the mirror crashed I called you
And turned to hear you say
If only for today
I am unafraid
Take my breath away
Take my breath away .
Aeryn breaks down and sobs with love in John's arms. She doesn't know what she can say to that.
At that exact moment, the smell of perfectly-baked chocolate chip cookies wafts through the air, tickling their noses in a non-sneezing way, and Aeryn picks up the oven mitt she has left carefully on the counter right next to the stove, and retrieves the sheet of lightly-golden-brown-and-certainly-not-b
Aeryn pulls away slightly, still stroking the nape of his neck with one hand whilst flipping pancakes with the other. Perfectly circular, a dusky golden brown like a smoggy late afternoon. She begins to sing a lullaby, soft, gentle words that slip into his ears like molasses and pool within his ear canal like a particularly nasty case of swimmer's ear.
What ever would he do without his domestic goddess?
In the grand scheme of things, I don't think it really matters, considering that there's no goddamned plot anyhow....
Don't worry -- less than 72 hours to go before it's over....
And this is more sick and wrong than anything I've done lately!
That... takes talent. Congrats. *g*
At the moment, this spam has nothing on the Scorpy/Jack porn we wrote during ScaperCon....
You're getting the schmoopy J/A. Hee!
It's the baby Jesus crying.
It's the baby Jesus crying.
Heh, I think he's just laughing so hard its turned to tears. And, still a long way to go....
"Aeryn, sunshine?"
"Yes, my love?" Aeryn calls out over her shoulder, arms deep inside the oven to baste the turkey she's making for dinner (even as their own lovechild comes to perfection in the oven of her womb).
He watches her rounded hips wiggle as she slides the turkey back in, the extra pregnancy pounds only making her more comfortable to hold, more delectable to baste with his own love drippings.
"I've got a surprise for you, sweetheart."
She turns, wiping the sweat from her glowing skin with the back of the hand that still holds the baster, golden drops of turkey juice spattering into her hair in a way that makes him hotter than a kitchen. "What?" She adds, "my love?"
"I know we haven't been able to make whoopie these long weeks, and I was hoping that instead, I could give you a different kind of gift to express my deep and sexually-charged love for you, the taker of my seed and the mother of my child."
She tosses the baster into the sink and shrugs. "Sure. What is it?"
"Aeryn, my raven-haired goddess," He reaches behind her and pulls the strings on her frilly pink apron, "I want to give you a pearl necklace."
"What, like that Gin Cleveland on the television?"
"That's June Cleaver, my lovely soulmate." He smiles and pushes on her shoulders so that she's kneeling before him. "And that's not exactly what I had in mind."
*laughs helplessly*
I'll get even. *shakes fist at you*
As soon as I stop giggling.
"My reason for living, you've confused me. And I've been studying up on all the vagaries of human culture. I don't know this...pearl necklace."
"My lover of loves, your intelligence astounds me and the rate you've picked up human culture is staggering. You truly are the perfect woman." Aeryn blushes, and preens her hands over her Jaclyn Smith maternity clothes.
"Oh, don't say that when I look like a hippo who ate a blimp." John only smiles, comes closer to her and pinches her cheeks like his great Aunt Louise used to do.
"You are perfect no matter how you look. I'd stay with you if you weighed 300 pounds with zits."
"And I'd stay with you forever...except if Sean Connery came by and asked me to marry him."
John smiles knowingly and takes his perfect wife into his oh so strong arms. He feels the happy bulge of their child and knows that he will be the perfect dad and that Aeryn will be the President of the PTA one day.
"John, what is this pearl necklace? I still don't know."
"Don't mind me," she draws her shoulders in and tiptoes exaggeratedly to the fridge. She snags half of a six pack and tiptoes back to the patio door.
"Hitting the beer rather hard, aren't you Skikkie?" John admonishes. His hand is still on Aeryn's shoulder, and since she can't get up she leans her tired head against her darling husband's winky.
Sikozu pops a beer open with a hiss (from the can, not the Kalish). "One is for me, one is for Scorpius, and one is for the bratwurst." She angles her head cheerfully, and John imagines she'll be a wonderful nanny, reciting counting rhymes to the little Crichton (the baby, not the penis).
She pauses before sliding the patio door shut. "Don't you two make a lovely picture?" She scampers off the deck and onto the back lawn, pulling her Daisy Duke cutoffs out of the crack of her pale orange ass.
John peers into the backyard, where Scorpius is increasing the efficiency of the propane grill. He murmurs to Aeryn, "Do you think he can see into the house from out there?"
She answers breathily, her love-filled heart and her swollen ankles filled to bursting. "Probably."
"Hmmm." He cups her cheek and presses her close to his burgeoning love knob. "Good."
"I don't think we have any blank tapes left. They're filled with all the other times we've done this."
"Really? Drats," she says, and inhales the musky, manly, sexy, sweaty, sweet, sour, dry, wet of her husband John. Her husband who gave her his last name. Of course, she never thought she'd be Aeryn Gertrude Sun Crichton. It's one of the many things that is perfect about her perfect life.
"We don't have to tape record. We can just give them a show. I mean, the turkey's got a while to cook and that maternity shirt turns me on," John whispers into Aeryn's raven, black, dark, brown, wavy, curly, straight, sweet hair.
"But, love of my life, my reason for living, what if ChiChi should come back with our dog Bracaton? She'd be appalled." John runs a hand across Aeryn's silky, creamy, smooth, pale, milky, tight, rough, soft skin and sighs.
So perfect.
"Well, its not like she's not seen it before," John says and pushes more insistently with his blood filled, throbbing, massive, cream cannon. Aeryn shivers.
"Quite right," she says and looks up into John's blue, happy, sad, dead, empty, gorgeous, sexy, clear eyes. "Let's get it on."
John pushes his pants of hips and says, "You've been listening to too much Marvin Gaye."
He peers into the dimness of the house, trying to make out what's happening in the kitchen. Sikozu comes up to him with a cool pitcher of blue raspberry kool-aid. "Would you like a refill, pumpkin?"
Scorpius gasps in delight, "Yes, please."
She presses the button just above his ear and his rod spirals out into the sweltering summer heat.
ChiChi, the pretend Albino skips along happily with their dog Bracaton in tow. Bracaton is a sniffer, and wants to hump every leg of every male he sees. Especially if that male has on leather.
But, today, ChiChi and Bracaton are happy because they're headed for home to the perfect house with John and Aeryn the perfect couple. ChiChi just hopes they aren't having sex again because she hates cleaning up the mess.
There are some things a Bounty paper towel can't get up. The stains on the walls are the only thing not perfect about their perfect life. John has potent cream inside and says he does it on purpose.
ChiChi is stopped by a sudden tug on the leash. She looks around and see Bracaton sniffing at the leg of a leather clad motorcylcist. He's happily humping away, his little legs moving quickly, tongue sticking out.
ChiChi only smiles because if Bracaton makes little babies, it'll give John and Aeryn's baby someone to play with.
ChiChi smiles again because everything is so perfect in their perfect world.
ChiChi responds to Bracaton's comment with a rough yank on the choke collar of the leash. "I've had enough of your smart mouth, Miklo. Good doggies don't have smart mouths, they have mouths that are eager to please."
Bracaton heaves a weary sigh and lowers his head. "Yes, Mistress ChiChi."
"That's better." ChiChi tugs on the leash and Bracaton heels behind her at a respectful distance all the way home, up the walkway and into the house.
From the kitchen there comes the sounds of grunts and moans, cries of sexual ecstasy and the barking squeak of a kitchen table scooting across the floor under the power of the beast with two backs.
ChiChi unclips the leash from her pet Bracaton and smiles down at him. "Guess who gets to re-wax the kitchen floor?"
Bracaton thanks his Mistress and is dismissed from her presence. Surpressing a wave of mortification, he opens the lid of the trashcan and empties the filled sandwich bag from his uniform pocket, cursing the local pooper-scooper law.
The doggy stares fixedly at Crichton's coyly exposed calf that gleams pinkly under the kitchen light. He licks his lips and quivers. Why is that hairy expanse so tempting? His back legs start to wobble dangerously.
Aeryn turns her face to John. The doe-eyed softness of her eyes, the warm pink coral of her mouth, her nose that twitches like a rampant bilby. "John! You've taken me to the moon and beyond. I've touched the stars–"
He lifts her hand and places it over his heart. "Touch me, baby," he murmurs.
"You've made me whole. Until you... I was nothing..." Tears fill her eyes and spill down her face. She blows her nose noisily on the back of her sleeve.
"I know, hon. But then you'd never met a real man before. I've made allowances..."
She smiles at him bravely, while wringing out their mingled juices from her raven blue-black hair. "Would you like to try my buns?" she asks in excessive innocence.
John starts to judder in excitement. "What the frell...?" he spits out and glances down at his calf. "Bracaton! Stop that... at once!"
At that very moment, John and Aeryn's bestest friends in the whole world came over. Chiana and D'Argo entered arm in arm, beaming.
Chiana squealed, "John, Aeryn, you'll never guess! You were such an inspiration to us that D'Argo and I have decided to also have a child. I'm pregant!"
There was then much hugging and crying until Sikozu and Scorpius stepped forth.
"I feel silly now to basically repeat what Chiana said, but due to your shining example of how amazing a relationship can be... Sikozu shall now be the mother of my children."
More hugging and crying.
Braca then sheepishly stepped forward. "Scorpius I didn't want to tell you until later, but now that I am in the presence of John and Aeryn the wonder-couple, I feel I can share anything with you. I too am having your man baby."
Noranti then died before she could procreate, but there was still much hugging and crying.
Aeryn looked up at John with tears in her eyes, "Snookerdoodle, it's all just so beautiful. I wish this moment could last forever. Just like our true love for each other, which is so pure."
John steps over to D'Argo and claps him on the shoulder.
"Congratulations, my friend." D'Argo doesn't answer immediately, too busy trying to remove some of John's secretions from the sole of his shoe.
"Thank you my best friend in the whole world. You are the reason why Chiana and I can express our love now."
John leans in, whispers with D'Argo. "You are waiting for the wedding night right?" D'Argo nods his head vigorously.
"Oh yes John. Chiana and I are not going to sleep together until the wedding night because we're pure and we want the light of the heavens to shine down above us while we experience the warmth of loving."
"But, how're pregnant?" No one wonders what Aeryn's doing because she's decided to clean the gutters of the house because she's just perfect and so her husband can watch football.
"It was just sponataneous John. I think we were so overwhelmed with the love of you and Aeryn and she just became pregnant."
John smiles and his blue eyes that never seem to change light up.
John glances at her and cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, your ultimate radiance?"
"I've finished the gutters," she gushes shyly. She thrusts out two fluffy pink puffballs. "And I've found your slippers."
John's ogles her in amazement. "My slippers? I've been looking..." his voice trails off and his wormhole blue eyes fill with unshed tears. "Where...?"
"Bracaton had them."
John sniffs them gingerly. "You can say that again."
"Bracaton had them."
"Aeryn, I love you and your simple Peacekeeper ways. Promise me you'll never change."
"But my clothes will get dirty and sweaty..."
"No, I mean..." he sighs and draws her closer. Tilts back her head, runs a thumb along her trembling lip. "Am I your daddy?"
"Always..." she whispers through her happy smile.
John is wearing "Best Husband" shirt and Aeryn is wearing her "Best Wife" shirt and they are looking at each other like they're high on drugs. They have on matching polyester paints with their named monogramed on them so everyone knows who they are.
Once their singing is done, they all sit down and Aeryn presents a dinner of turkey, beans, cheese, cookies, crowned rack of lamb, french fries, peas, corn, ducks feet, and a lemon pie she made all in two hours in her George Foreman grill.
"You are a better cook than Emeril Lagasse ever was," John says with glowing admiration of his beautifully pregnant wife.
"My husband, my dream was to cook for you everyday and watch soap operas. By the way, did you see Guiding Light last week," she says, gesturing to Chiana.
John and D'Argo share a laugh over the things women do and Bracaton starts to hump John's pink slippers.
They all sang Happy birthday in four part harmony with full orchestration, thanks to the roving children's orchestra who stopped by to drop off the candy bars that they had purchased. After giving the children cookies and sending them on their way, Scorpy blew out the candles, then cut the cake, giving each person an equally sliced portion.
His brilliant white smile, for earth has some of the best orthodontists in the universe, gleamed in the darkening light. Scorpy carefully opened each gift, not ripping the paper and folding them up to be used later when he decoupages the cigar boxes for purses. His favorite gift was from John, a t-shirt with "I'm with stupid." and an arrow on it.
Notcing that is was nearly 9pm, John and Aeryn sent everyone home so they could get ready for bed. After their nightly ritual of flossing and brushing and doing each other's nails they crawled into bed. Bracaton laid curled up in his Laura Ashley dog bed, knawing and humping the pink bunny slippers.
Aeryn watched for a time, prettily nibbling on her lip with the feeling that something was missing. As John was her husband and knew so much more than she ever could she turned to him and pouted.
John feeling the not-perfect vibes coming off his otherwise perfect wife, cupped her flawless bone china skin and asked as gently as possibly because she was only a woman and he had to speak slowly for her to understand.
"What is it Aeryn, love of my life, recepticle of my seed? I see that a frown is marring your perfectly formed, yet not classically beautiful face."
"It's Bracaton. He seems lonely and he shouldn't be, he needs someone too and not just your pink fluffy bunny slippers."
John smiled the smile of a man who has the perfect life, content, happy, sexually statisfying and emotionally stable. "Then we shall get him someone too. And I know just the bitch."
"Well with the baby coming, I'm not looking to have a lot of puppies running around, if you know what I mean."
Harvey sips his YooHoo and waggles his eyebrows. "I know exactly what you mean, which is why I've had Grayzie spayed and all her less-than-perfect glands removed. It's much healthier for her and it keeps the house smelling much fresher than before."
"That's just perfect." John smiles and drains his bottle of YooHoo.
John and Aeryn met Harvey at the real walnutwood door of their palatial manse. Before Harvey could even ring the buzzer and hear the 'Farscape' theme music, the door was flung open and Aeryn wailed, "We can't find Bracaton!"
"And he's taken my puff-ball slippers," John intoned sadly. "They were a gift from my father."
"Grayzie'll find him!" Harvey replied blithely. "Here, let Grayzie sniff your feet..."
John peeled off an argyle sock, and Grayzie licked the sole of his foot. "That feels good!" John beamed happily.
Grayzie barked and waddled off towards the garage, her pendulous breasts hoeing trenches in the manicured lawn, while the rest followed behind.
"There he is!" Aeryn beamed happily.
Cocooned in a box of John's perfect clothes that they were going to give to charity, Bracaton stared at them dismally. Then he stared at Grayzie and the doube row of pink juddering breasts that hung pendulously from her undercarriage. He gasped and went into convulsions.
"Besides my breath of fresh air Aeryn, Grayzie is the prettiest woman he's seen and he doesn't know how to handle that." Harvey nods in a nodding way as John pulls Bracaton out of the box.
"We have a special room for this," John says and leads Harvey and Grayzie down the hall. John opens the door to a vast guest room with a four poster bed and silk sheets.
"This is mine and wonderful as her bodily gases smell, we haven't used it. Let's let Bracaton and Grayzie use it," John says and Harvey agrees. The two dogs stand awkwardly in the room.
John goes over to his five tier entertainment system that Aeryn bought him just because she loved him so much and put on Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing." John claps Harvey on the back and leads him out of the "Love Room."
"Let's leave those two alone for a while." John and Harvey return to the living room where Aeryn is painting a nude mural of John on the ceiling.
"Honey? Lover of mine, keeper of my seed, purveyor of the sweet smelling flatulence?" Aeryn turns from the levy she's rigged up on and smiles.
"Yes, giver of the seed?"
"Shouldn't I be bigger in that portrait?" he asks, pointing to his slammin hammer. Aeryn smiles mischievously.
"That's only a 1/10 scale model."
John smiles his most charming smile at his thoughtful, beautiful and now with pregnancy busty wife. Realizing that there were distinct advanges to keeping a bun in the oven, John gently runs a soft yet stong hand along her engorged mammary glands. "Sunlight? Dancing Photon of my heart? Heat of my loins?"
Leaning into her handsome and kind husband, Aeryn breathily whispers,"Yes Trunk of my fruit, lightning rod of desire?"
"We need napkins."
Embarassed and blushing furiously, yet in a delicate pink way that causes a rose glow to fall about the room, she rises and rushes off into the kitchen.
Just then the sounds of barking, growling, yipping and a howl of repressed fury come from the love room.
"Well, I think Bracaton is taking things in hand." Harvey smiles his evil yet harmless clown smile. John just chuckles, thinking that he will finally be able to wear his pink chenille lined slippers, well after Aeryn disinfects them. A warm glow of contentment fills him and overflows into the room. His beautiful soon to pop wife is in the kitchen, his best friend yet wacky neighbor is sitting next to him, Bracaton has a new friend and the pizza is still hot. Life is good.
"Ha ha," laughs Crais with an evil smirk. "You thought I was dead, but Talyn and I have survived, due to his enhanced defense screen which he grew two arns before we starburst into infinity. Now, we have healed, although the energy conversion process was such that Talyn shrank a bit. But not where it counts!"
"Huh?" says Crichton, staring in awe at Talyn's still really big cannon. "Oh, um-hum."
Aeryn came running in from the kitchen, napkins in one hand, pulse pistol in the other. She shoved John behind her and stared up with tears filling her grey-blue-green-variable colored eyes, and her lips parted in rapture.
"Talyn! My non-godson (because Sebaceans have only goddess, and she took off a while ago)!"
Talyn warbled, and half the windows in the neighborhood burst. Crais stared back at Aeryn, dark eyes soft and hard at once with love and determination.
"We've come back for you, Officer Sun."
John leaps forward. Scorpius grabs him by the arm. "Don't interfere! If you truly love something, set it free, and it will return of its own volition if it shares that soft emotion."
John nods and smiles at his best friend's wisdom. "Aeryn, honey, doll, sweetie, mother of the Year, you do what's right for you. I'm not gonna push ya."
Aeryn, pregnant and barefoot, raven-dusky-pitch black locks fluttering in the breeze flowing through the open roof, glows with this proof of her magnificent, godlike alien husband's perfect love.
She looks up at mini-Talyn, bites her luscious lip in that sexy way of hers, and prepares to speak.
"And that's why I had this place carpeted," Scorpius murmurs with a smug smirk as ChiChi groans and holds her head. "Foresight and preparation always pays off in the end."
Crichton spins and casts an imploring look at his beaming beacon, his Aeryn, whose luscious lips are now open in shock. "Go on. Tell us. Tell us what you want, my sweet."
She places her hands on her belly over the proof of her hubby's virility, and her eyes fill with so many feelings and tears that the salty water is soon leaking down her cheeks because there just isn't room. "Oh, John, you really want to know, don't you?" she cries.
"Hey!" Crais pounds on Talyn's mini-windshield for attention. "I can harm anyone who tries to prevent you from speaking, too! Come on! Someone else charge in here so I can prove my worth!"
"Aeryn, completer of my life, Playmate of the Year(which she really was because she'd posed in the "Alien Ahoy" Special), tell us what you want?" Aeryn turns her tear filled eyes to John's storm on the seas at high tide blue eyes and gets lost in them. So lost that she doesn't know where he is and has to pull out a map to find her way back out.
"I want..."
"Yes..." everyone says on cue.
"I wanna be a cowgirl," she says with feeling and does the little giddy up dance that turns John on. John smiles and turns to Crais. He gives him the bird, actually its the raven that's always in Aeryn hair.
"Go back to where you came from tightwad!" He turns to Aeryn and says, "C'mon, we're going to bed and have beautful, mind blowing sex." He drags her to the Love Room.
"But John, I still have those raging hemmorhoids."
"Don't worry, I have protection."
*wanders off to study more and poetry!spam less*
Enjoy LA!
Oh, I shall. I have even managed to get a friend to pick me up from LAX and take me to the con hotel. Which means he shall HAVE to stay a little while so
Okay, so there's probably some mental scarring from that damned Easter Bunny, but still--evil?
Naaaahh.
I should make more. Hmm. *goes Googling*
moisture rubbing tentacles
moisture rubbing flesh
hardness on her stomach
hardness on her inner thigh
hardness in her mouth
staring at the ceiling
staring at the floor
staring at her breasts
breathing sharply outwards
breathing quickly in
breathing heavily
gasping at the final stroke
gasping at the final thrust
both relaxing, spent.
This badfic is ... wow.
SO glad I didn't see this before the con panel. *g*