August 21st, 2006

glee sue sylvester

Random fic snippet

Found this on the hard drive. No idea where I was going with it: something to do with Wesley, I think.

Nigel Hammond had frequently had mixed feelings about this whole Watcher business. It had struck him, from time to time, that it was potentially rather a risky occupation. This opinion had been validated, a little more completely than he would have wished for, when the Watchers’ Council blew up. A risky occupation indeed. Fortunately for Nigel himself, he had been in Prague, consulting with the National Library about a couple of rather obscure old scrolls, and had thus managed to avoid such an ignominious end.

Now, several months later, the Council was being reborn, led by the legendary Rupert Giles, Maverick Watcher (the ‘Maverick’ went with the name; no-one at the old Watchers’ Council had ever omitted it; it was something of a trial for those remaining to remember *not* to say it). They had makeshift offices in south London (cheaper rent than where they had been, and that did, for the first time, matter), and were slowly building up their library. The old guard, Quentin Travers’ cronies, had refused to have anything to do with the proceedings, and had gone off by themselves. Those who didn’t mind the change in management had remained.

Nigel didn’t much mind one way or the other.
glee sue sylvester

Random fic snippet #2

This was apparently intended as a Jossverse/CS crossover.

Felicity Richardson was in the process of scoring a much-needed hockey goal for the First XI when she felt it. One second, there she was, just normal old Felicity, rather enjoying the hockey game, despite it generally being rather tragic results-wise, as the Lycée Niçoise team was beating the pants off them, and the next, she had hit the hockey ball right through the back of the net and made a sizeable dent in the board beyond it. But the change was in her. She felt different. She felt stronger, faster, more alive.

For the rest of the game, Felicity half-suspected that Miss Benton, the PE mistress, had slipped something strictly verboten into the half-time oranges, but in the changing room later, nobody else seemed to be feeling the same. Most of them were in fact lying about on benches, looking extremely dejected, declaring that they’d rather die than play hockey ever again, and wondering what sort of mug had invented the game in the first place. All in all, just about what you’d expect from losing a rather crucial hockey match by 6 goals to 14.

But the feeling didn’t go away, and Felicity really couldn’t account for it. Plus, she had managed to somehow chuck her plumeau completely out of the window, rather than just airing it, and this, on top of accidentally pulling the door handle off one of the practice room doors, and breaking the drop down white screen when she went to pull the little toggle, had made her rather persona non grata with the staff of the Chalet School.

“You’re a bit of a disaster area at the moment,” pointed out her best friend, Emily. Felicity just groaned, and fell into a chair in the common room. Emily patted her on the shoulder. “That’s OK, let it out. How wild was Matey?”

“Steaming. Possibly literally. Something’s happened, Em.” Emily looked interested.

“Really? What? Don’t tell me whatshername whatshername in Lower IVA has been excluded? I thought she was a shoo-in for it when she set fire to…”

“Not in the school, you idiot! I meant to me. I’ve Changed.” Felicity’s tones were full of foreboding.
glee sue sylvester

Isabel Jones & Curabel Lee, by David McCord

Isabel Jones & Curabel Lee
Lived on butter and bread and tea,
And as to that they would both agree:
Isabel, Curabel, Jones & Lee.

Isabel said: While prunes have stones
They aren't a promising food for Jones.
Curabel said: Well, as for me,
Tripe is a terrible thing for Lee.

There's not a dish or fowl or fish
For which we wish, said I. & C.
And that is why until we die
We'll eat no pie, nor beg nor buy
But butter and bread and a trace of tea.
(Signed) Isabel Jones & Curabel Lee.