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Discussion in 'Fan Fiction and Fan Art' started by Slackbot, Sep 27, 2011.
Yay! More Fraggle fic. I really like the descriptions of the Piping Cave. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks. Heh, it's probably obvious who Jago is, or will be.
I haven't written many of these little fragments lately. But now that I've gotten the big fics out of my system, I can put down some of the incidental bits.
This is a bit of naughty ush-gush that takes place before the birth of the Fraggle Five Family's first child. It might explain a few things. This is actually the bowdlerized version of the story. It's probably obvious where the cut is and what was removed.
Snackby Kim McFarland
She turned around. "Yes?"
Wembley was standing in the entrance of Mokey and Red's cave, looking self-conscious. "Boober wanted me to ask you what you wanted him to pack."
That has been the last thing on her mind. "Oh, hmm.."
"In the picnic basket. Though, well, it's not just a picnic, and he said he'll have to pack two baskets. You know Boober, he doesn't want anyone to go hungry, and—"
She interrupted, "Wembley! Are you nervous?"
He clasped his hands together and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah."
"Oh, Wembley." She held out her arms to him.
He came over to her, and they hugged. He breathed in her scent. For several days every year she had a special scent. It was delicious and fascinating, better even than the smell of fresh radishes. Breathing it in made him feel a little dizzy, as if the blood was rushing away from his head for another destination.
Mokey felt lightheaded as well. She had just come into season, as she did every midsummer. Normally she drank yellowflower tea, a small cup a day, beginning when the flowers bloomed and until her season ended. The tea was a medicine of sorts, and female Fraggles who drank it did not become fertile. This year the family—all Fraggle Five—had made special plans. Mokey had not drunk the tea, and as a result the season was affecting her much more strongly than it had in the past.
Tonight she would join with Gobo, Wembley, and Boober in the Midsummer Ritual to start a baby. It was unusual for groups to participate, but she could not choose one over the other to sire their child. Since it would be raised by them all, it was only fair that everyone have a chance. And, she thought as she hugged Wembley, she felt eager enough to tire out all three. She touched her nose to Wembley's cheek and, when he looked up, kissed him. It began as an affectionate gesture, but intensified quickly.
Soon she felt the evidence that Wembley was as worked up as she was. She smiled down at him. Blushing, he said, "You know what it's like when Boober's planned a great feast, and he's spent days cooking and getting everything just right, and it's nearly time to serve it, everything's ready and you can smell it and your stomach's growling and your mouth's watering, but you still have to wait until the muffins are done?"
"That's how I feel right now."
Though embarrassed by his loss of control, he hadn't pulled away—and she didn't want him to. Softly she said, "I feel the same way. So…how about a little snack?"
"Can we do that?" he asked, surprised.
She laughed softly and kissed him again. Then she let go of him and went to the stone shelf on which she made her bed. At one side it was just high enough off the floor that she could sit on the edge and lean back against a few pillows...
A little while later Wembley returned to Boober's kitchen. Boober was engrossed in the task of mixing the dough that would become the crust of a radish quiche. Wembley tapped his shoulder. Boober yelped and startled. As Wembley wiped a spray of flour off his face and shirt Boober said, "Where have you been?"
"I went and saw Mokey, just like you asked me to," Wembley answered.
Boober, fussing with the dough, did not notice Wembley's peculiar smile. "What did she say?"
"You remember, I sent you to go ask her if she had any requests for what I should make for the ritual tonight!"
Boober turned and looked at Wembley. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Wembley, Wembley. You'd forget your own tail if it wasn't sewn on."
Fraggle Rockand all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (firstname.lastname@example.org). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
First of all, it's a delight to find another of these snapshots from your particular ficverse.
Secondly... When holds her hands out for to come in for a hug...
Posted by Bot of Slacks: He came over to him, and they hugged."
*Shakes head, another fic author who got their gender pronouns mixed-up. I've seen this in other stories at fanfiction.net as well.
Posted by Slack of Bots: "It was delicious and fascinating, better even than then smell of fresh radishes."
Yes! And then I said I than then!
Uh-oh, sounds like Zoot's skipped a groove again. *Raspy laugh.
There's a reason I liked Mokey. Leaving Wembley with a goofy smile like that. Thank you for posting.
Typos? *edit edit* What typos? There are no typos such as what you pointed out!
Heh, the goofy grin was almost inevitable. The bit you didn't see involved Wembley's little sound effects, and it's hard not to laugh, y'know?
Wery sneaky of you. *Chuckles with the sound effects mention. Still, I likes this interlude, please post when you get inspired.
Awww! Very cute, thanks for posting!
Aw, Wembley! Heh heh...
...And now you know how Janken got his schnoz.
Uh... I forgot what a schnoz is?
Schnoz means nose.
Oh yeah, his nose does look kind of similar to Wembley's. (laughs softly!)
Yup. If Boober had run his own errands that day, Janken might have looked very different.
I'm writing another story which I hope to post in the next few days. It involves domesticity, secrecy, and jewelry.
Here's another shortie. It takes place sometime after Brothers and Sisters, and continues a thread from Masks and Growing Together.
Ring of Truthby Kim McFarland
It was a lazy Tuesday morning. Fridays through Sundays, the Muppets put on their shows at the theater, and on Mondays they filmed the backstage segments and any other footage that would be needed for the corresponding television episodes. Tuesdays through Thursdays were for rehearsal, costume and scenery work, and damage control. Unless Scooter was cast in a skit and thus needed for rehearsals, he took a day or two off.
He was still lying in his pajamas on the couch that served as a bed. He usually stayed here, in Janken's apartment, on non-show nights. He had been iffy about that at first, but Janken had gently persuaded him to take time off from his work on the show, which always bled over into the boarding house. Scooter had agreed, reluctantly at first, but now he enjoyed the break. The troupe could function without him for a few days, knowing that if the travel plans for the guest star glitched he was only a phone call away. Of course, he stayed at the boarding house on show nights—and, more often than not, so did Janken. It was an arrangement that suited them both.
It might have suited them a little better if Janken was not such an early riser, Scooter thought. The Fraggle popped out of bed at the crack of dawn. Literally; sunlight woke him up. This wasn't a problem in winter, but during summer it could be downright exasperating. At least he had quickly learned to let Scooter sleep in. Or, as he was doing today, awaken him with something pleasant, like the smell of coffee and breakfast.
Scooter sat up and stretched. Janken, hearing the movement, looked over and smiled. He was still in his pajamas. Scooter got up and went to the bathroom, where he brushed him teeth and otherwise prepared himself for the rigors of consciousness. Then he returned to the living room, which was the only other room of the basement apartment. Janken was turning a vegetable and mushroom omelet out of an electric wok onto a plate.
Sitting on the couch again, this time in its capacity as a couch, Scooter said, "Good timing."
Janken handed him a cup of coffee. "You trained me well."
Scooter sipped the drink. It had just the right amount of cream and sugar. Janken couldn't stand coffee; he was a tea drinker. Thank heavens for instant coffee. He supposed that one could say that he had trained Janken to wake him up with coffee and breakfast, or one could say that Janken had trained him to wake up without complaint at the smell of food and caffeine. Whichever it was, it worked.
Janken divided the omelet, set out some biscuits, and served two bowls of fruit salad with yogurt and granola. To Scooter, who had been acclimated to cereal and waffles and bacon, this had originally seemed weird, but once he got used to it, it was really good. One thing you could say about Fraggles; even though they were vegetarians they ate well. Afterward Scooter washed the dishes. That was the usual division of labor, as Janken enjoyed cooking and, if it was left to Scooter, they would have been eating a lot of PBJ sandwiches.
They hadn't discussed that; it had just happened. A lot of things just worked themselves out these days. They knew each other that well, and if there were any sticky points, they were comfortable talking about them, so tension didn't build.
Janken said, "Do you have anything planned today?"
"No. How about you?"
"Just the usual." When Janken had time on his hands he did volunteer work for the TMI. That organization had helped him adjust to life on the surface after he had gotten trapped out here by a rockslide, and he had remained good friends with the staff of this city's office. So he often went in and helped them out, sometimes by working with some of the Monsters they were assisting, sometimes by doing office work or just answering the phones. It was, he felt, a way to give back to those who had helped him in his time of need, not because he felt he owed them, but because they were his friends, and friends helped each other.
Scooter said, "I was thinking, maybe we could get rings."
"Rings?" From the way Scooter said that, it had been on his mind for a while. Janken sat next to him.
"Yeah. People who are couples often wear rings," Scooter explained.
"Wedding rings," Janken said uncomfortably. The idea of pairing off with someone was fine, but Janken found the social and legal structure surrounding marriage appalling. Love was too personal a thing to be treated like a contract.
Scooter said, "I know Fraggles don't marry. Don't worry. I just thought, well, I'd like to wear a ring, and I'd like to give you one too."
Janken asked, "What would it mean?"
"Just that I love you."
Janken looked at his hand. After a long moment he looked back up at Scooter and said with a smile, "Yes, I'll wear a ring that means I love you."
Scooter grinned and hugged Janken. "Great!"
Janken laughed a little. Then he asked, "What kind of ring?"
"Men's rings are usually pretty simple. I was thinking a band of some kind. Couples usually get matching rings."
"I like simple. I don't think I could manage rocks like Miss Piggy and Dr. Teeth wear."
"I don't know how Teeth pulls his sleeves over those things."
Janken picked Scooter's tablet up from the coffee table and turned it on. Scooter said, "Hmm?"
Janken said, "I don't know much about rings. I'd like to see what they look like."
"Um, if it turns out that I can't wear it on my hand, could I wear it around my neck?"
"Wouldn't that be kind of a pinch?"
Janken nudged him with an elbow. "I mean, on a chain or something."
"Sure, that'd be fine. I wouldn't want it to be uncomfortable."
"Thanks." The browser was now up. Janken asked, "Is there a site I should go to?"
"Just Google around."
Janken did, and selected a likely looking link. A few more clicks brought them to a long page of men's rings. They came in a wide variety, from simple, unadorned bands to glittery gauds. Scooter let Janken scroll around for a while, looking at the styles.
Janken turned to Scooter. "I don't know what I like. I don't know what it'll look and feel like on my hand."
"We'll buy from a place in town, not online. We can try 'em on," Scooter assured him. "I like the simple ones, myself." He pointed to several bands that were either plain or had simple engraved designs.
"Yeah," Janken nodded. Then he said, "Um, if we buy them from a store here, someone might see us."
"Yeah, and someone's sure to notice if we start wearing matching rings during the show."
They both knew from their time spent on several Muppet message boards that fans were notorious about noticing little details like that. Janken said, "We won't wear 'em on camera, right?"
"I'll keep mine on."
"Then I should take mine off?" Janken asked, puzzled.
Scooter said quietly, "I mean, let 'em notice. And if they put two and two together, well, okay."
"You want people to find out we're gay?" Janken had never been self-conscious about that—among Fraggles, sexual orientation was no big deal—but Scooter had wanted to keep it a secret. So, in public and on camera they were just friends. Outside of Fraggle Rock, only the other Muppets and Scooter's sister Skeeter knew the truth. Janken hadn't expected Scooter ever to drop the mask.
Scooter explained, "Well... I just don't feel the way I used to about it. Even with everybody telling me I'm okay, there's nothing wrong with me, still, it's hard letting go of that baggage. If I'd known someone else like me who was like me—does that make sense?" Janken nodded encouragingly "If I'd known, maybe I wouldn't have felt so weird, been afraid of what I am. Now, well, I feel silly about that."
Janken put an arm around Scooter. "You shouldn't," he said.
"I guess it boils down to, I don't want to hide any more. I don't want to pretend. I don't want to make a big deal about it either, though, because it isn't. This way, I can let 'em figure it out for themselves without making a production out of it, 'hey, look at me, I'm gay,' ugh. If word gets out, well, let it. And maybe there's someone else out there who feels like I used to, and maybe it'll help 'em to know there someone else out there like them."
"Boy, did that need a script editor," Scooter stage whispered. Then he said, "But this isn't about getting noticed, Jan. I love you, and I want to wear a ring that means that. That's all. Um…what do you think about this? Letting people figure it out?"
Janken smiled and took his hand. "Scooter, I'd wear your ring even if I had to pierce my tail to do it."
Several minutes later the conversation switched back to verbal mode. Scooter said, "Want to go to shopping today?"
"Why wait?" Janken answered.
Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC, and is used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (email@example.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
Awww! I really like how Scooter is ready to put himself out there without worrying too much about whatever whispers may result. It's a lot like Janken volunteering with the TMI; doing little things to help out people who are going through the same things.
Thanks. I don't have another long story planned for these characters, so I just wanted to show them at a later point in time. Scooter's finally gotten over it to the point that he actually wants the other shoe to drop, but he doesn't want the matter to alter his established persona. (He's no George Takei.) So, it's not going to become a plotline in a Muppet Show episode, just an easter egg, and he'll trust Fleet Scribbler to do the press releases.
I got the idea for this when I read about people's reactions to Kevin Keller, a new, openly gay character in the Archie comics. A lot of people thanked them, saying that seeing a character "like them" made a big difference. Scooter is thinking that maybe he could make a difference too, but he'd feel really pretentious coming out and saying that.
La la-la la-la,La la la-la la-la.La la la la-la la-la.....*****Mushrooms and Melodiesby Kim McFarland
It was cold. Icicles hung from the ceiling in the Great Hall like crystal stalactites. Doozers built around them or cut them down if they got in the way or threatened their constructions. That rarely happened, though. During winter Fraggles were more active than ever because they kept warm by running around and playing and doing whatever else Fraggles did. They expended a lot of energy, which meant that the life expectancy of a finished Doozer tower was very short.
Fraggles ran about in the Great Hall, puffing out little clouds of breath, bundled up against the cold. Normally Fraggles only wore clothing as adornment; they had no nudity taboo. There was no need for it, as their bodies were covered with fur. But in winter they wore sweaters, leggings, hats, scarves, earmuffs, tail warmers, et cetera. And, of course, socks. Stone was very cold against bare feet, even feet as tough as a Fraggle's.
There were bells everywhere. Yesterday had been the winter solstice, the day when the rock stood still, and the Fraggles rang their bells to reawaken the Great Bell and begin another year. The mood in the colony was euphoric. Even though it was still cold, they knew that the thaw was on its way. Every so often a Fraggle would grab the nearest bell and ring it good and loud for the joyous sound it made. The Festival of the Bells was over, but the party would go on as long as there were Fraggles with enough energy to sing and frolic.
At the moment Boober was at one of the many fire bowls placed around the great hall. The bowls were wider than a Fraggle was tall, as high as a Fraggle's chest, and full of fire and hot stones. Boober often used them for cooking. He set large clay jars in the fire and hot rocks to roast, boil, steam, and otherwise cook the food that kept the colony lively and healthy.
He was attending to a large bowl of thickly bubbling goo, adding in spices and tasting it, when Gobo and his Uncle Matt returned, each carrying a large sack. Wembley trailed behind them with a bundle of bare, straight sticks. Gobo said, "We got the mushrooms you asked for, Boober."
"Good!" Boober opened the sacks they brought him and took out some of the mushrooms. Radishes didn't grow that well in winter. In fact, hardly anything did, which put a severe dent in their diet. But these mushrooms grew even when water turned to ice, so the Fraggles had some fresh produce to supplement their diet of scrounged and preserved food.
The mushrooms weren't beautiful. Their caps were spongy and mottled gray-brown. They also didn't smell like food. They were known to be edible, even nutritious, but you'd have to be really hungry to eat one. But, as Boober had recently discovered, their flavor changed when you cooked them. This was, for him, a challenge and an opportunity.
A song broke out across the Great Hall. They glanced over. A handful of Fraggles—and one who wasn't a Fraggle—was singing a raucous round of Muck and Goo. Wembley had to laugh. One of the Fraggles singing was Cantus. He always led the Festival of the Bells, and stayed until it was safe to travel again. There was something wonderful about seeing the wise, enigmatic Minstrel singing a goofy nonsense song.
Boober said, "I have enough mushrooms now." He nodded to the other sacks that Janken, Sage, and Mokey had brought him earlier that day. He took one of Wembley's sticks, selected a fist-sized mushroom, and after examining it critically, spitted it on the stick. He held it low over the fire, turning it slowly to roast it. As its skin darkened the mildly unpleasant odor changed, became more appealing. Then he dipped it in the goop he had been making. He lifted it out again and waited for the excess to dribble off, then blew on it for a moment and took a bite.
He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then offered it to Gobo. "What do you think?"
Gobo sampled it, then said in surprise, "Hey, that's good!" He passed it to Matt.
Boober watched anxiously as Matt took a bite, then said "Why, that's not bad at all."
Wembley was next. He said, "Wow, I like this! Who knew that those stinky mushrooms could taste this nice?"
Pleased, Boober said, "In that case—" he raised his voice and shouted, "Hey, everybody! Fondue party over here!"
In a moment the fire bowl was surrounded by Fraggles. Boober passed around the sticks, and directed the Fraggles to take a mushroom each. "Stick it firmly on the end so it doesn't fall off in the dip. Now hold it low over the flames and turn it slowly until the color of the cap starts to darken."
The crew around the bowl was a varied one. Their heights varied widely, from Boober, one of the smallest adult Fraggles in the Rock, to Cantus, who stood a head taller than anyone else. One of them wasn't even a Fraggle. Janken had brought his friend Scooter down for the Festival, and though Silly Creatures were tender compared to Fraggles, he was coping with the cold well enough. In fact, bundled up in Fraggle clothes, he could be mistaken for a skinny Fraggle until you looked at his eyes or noticed he had no tail.
"Dip your mushroom in, rolling to cover it completely. Now pull it out and blow on it because it's hot!" Boober demonstrated, and the others followed suit. Boober listened with pleasure to the yummy-noises they made as they ate.
Scooter commented to Janken, "This tastes like shiitake."
Boober heard. "What's shiitake?"
Scooter explained, "It's a kind of mushroom. They're chewy like these, and they taste kind of the same, but they're smaller and shaped differently." And Scooter hoped that Boober wouldn't have more questions about the mushrooms, as that was all Scooter knew about them.
Other Fraggles approached the bowl, now that it was established that this experiment of Boober's had been a success. The Fraggles who had eaten stepped away from the bowl to give the newcomers room, and gave them their sticks. Soon Boober was instructing a second group in the art of mushroom fondue.
Janken had been hanging around Cantus since the festival. He had once had a dire crush on the Minstrel. He still found him handsome and fascinating, but now that he had Scooter in his life, he was able to appreciate Cantus without getting all discombobulated. Thank goodness, Janken thought. It was much easier when hormones weren't continually tripping him up.
Though Janken had traveled briefly with the Minstrels, he had never had the courage to join their music, except as part of a crowd. He had wanted to, but he had been irrationally afraid, in case he embarrassed himself in front of his idol. Now, he realized, that no longer worried him.
Scooter saw Janken looking at Cantus. He knew about Janken's past crush, and suspected that Jan had never gotten over it completely. But that was all right. Scooter still got the shivers when he remembered Sylvester Stallone's boxing demonstration.
Janken gathered his nerve, approached the Minstrel, and said, "Cantus, there's a song I learned in Outer Space I'd like to sing for you."
Cantus looked mildly surprised. "I would like to hear this song."
Now others were watching. Janken looked around. An audience. Oh no. No, he told himself, these were just Fraggles. He knew all of them. He wasn't going to flake out this time. As he was thinking this he felt a hand pat his shoulder. He glanced over. It was Scooter. Scooter whispered, "Knock 'em dead."
Janken grinned and began,
"Sing, sing a song.Sing out loud, sing out strong."Scooter knew this song. He began singing with Janken.
"Sing of good things, not bad.Sing of happy, not sad.Sing, sing a song.Make it simple to last your whole life long.Don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear,Sing, sing a song."
Janken played the bridge on his ocarina. When he began the second part of the song, which was the same as the first, the rest of the Fraggles—Cantus included—joined in.
"Sing, sing a song.Sing out loud, sing out strong.Sing of good things, not bad.Sing of happy, not sad.Sing, sing a song.Make it simple to last your whole life long.Don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear,Just sing, sing a song."
Janken played the outro on his ocarina. After a moment of quiet, Cantus said, "There is much wisdom in that song. Thank you for singing it to me."
"You're welcome," Janken said, flushing slightly. "But…how is it wise? It's just a song about singing."
"What does it mean?" Cantus asked.
Nonplussed, Janken glanced at Scooter. Scooter shook his head slightly; he didn't know what Cantus was getting at. Janken said to Cantus, "Um, sing just for the fun of it?"
Cantus replied, "Can you think of a better reason?"
Cantus picked up a bell and rang it. "Any song sung in joy is worth singing. And worth listening to. So never be afraid to sing."
Janken said, "Yeah. I guess you're right."
"I hope I am," Cantus said with a slight smile.
All characters except Scooter and Janken Fraggle are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. Sing is copyright © Sesame Workshop. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (firstname.lastname@example.org). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
Now thas what I like from your fics. It gives us a wealth of all senses. So I have a hidden potential gourmand, I should from all the food shows I watch and have watched. Mom makes the best garlic shrooms. And yeah, blow on those skewered veggies, I found out the hard way about a year ago the danger of biting into something gooish when it's too hot. Then we segway to Scooter and Janken's appearance choosing a sweet song to sing for their friends at the festival. The Carpenters did a beautiful version as well.
Janken: "Maybe you're right."
Cantus: "I hope I am."
That made me smile, knowing what you posted on the minstrel's hopes at others following his philosophy in The Minstrel's Path.
Hey Chef, we still got some brownies?
*looks in the fridge, ya!
Oh good. *Leaves some for Kim.
I'm glad that Janken is confident enough to sing for Cantus now, knowing that before he was more reluctant to sing in front of anyone. Plus, the message of "Sing" is extremely Fragglish; sing because you want to and because you enjoy it. Thanks for sharing!
Aww, that was so sweet!
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