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Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Slackbot, Sep 27, 2011.
What a cute story! I love the image of Boober clamping Red's mouth shut, hahaha. Thanks for posting.
Aahh! I love Red and Boober!! I'm really glad you wrote this. A very Red thing to do, tease him like that almost a little meanly, but meaning well You represented their dynamic really nicely.
"Red was impressed. He was putting up more of a fight than she expected. It was easy to forget that all the scrubbing he did had given him some upper body strength. Not enough to throw her off, however."
"She had plenty of vulnerabilities too, but it would never occur to Boober to exchange his futile defense for an offense. He just didn't think that way."
These are AWESOME! They represent the interesting level of understanding that Boober and Red have for each other's personalities, as well as give insight as to how Red thinks on a competitive level. I was impressed that you could pull off a rather fast-paced story but squeeze in these little asides without it seeming awkward.
Thanks, guys! Boober only clamped Red's mouth because he didn't have a pillow handy to shove into it.
I'm glad that you like the Red-Bober dynamic! I like to think that over the years they've found ways to deal with each other without having to change or pussyfoot around. Red accepts that Boober is "a potato" and doesn't really try to change him, and he accepts a certain amount of teasing from her, as long as she'll stop it when he tells her to.
The "safe word" is a real thing, used to call a halt to, er, rough play when it leaves the comfort zone of one of the players. "Artichoke" was actually used by a friend, and I couldn't resist using that here.
P.S. One of the most common safe words is..."red." As in, red light, stop. Obviously that wouldn't work here.
A little something I wrote while thinking of Playing Till it Hurts.
Benchedby Kim McFarland
Stiff-bristled brooms made from brushlike bundles of needles dropped by trees around the Gorgs' garden whisked over the flat rock floor. This was a special part of the Great Hall, where the ground was worn smooth by generations of Fraggle feet. Now Fraggles were preparing it, sweeping every bit of loose dirt and grit away.
Red walked out on the clean rock, looking for stray pebbles and other imperfections. The center was clean. She restrained herself from commenting on the edges of the rink. The sweepers had started in the center and were working their way outward. It wouldn't be fair to criticize work that they hadn't yet finished. The sweepers, knowing Red was watching closely, took extra care to render the rink perfectly smooth.
When they finished Gobo, wearing a hooded sweater, walked into the rink. "Does it pass inspection, Red?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said.
"Good. Go sit with the rest of the team."
Feenie, Tosh, Lou, and Mokey were sitting on a bench at the edge of the rink, wearing their rock hockey uniforms. Each had already tied a pair of greaseberry leaves to their feet. Red grunted as she sat heavily down by Mokey.
Gobo said, "Rock hockey season begins tomorrow, and Gobo's Gorgbusters have to be at our best. We're up against Rumple's Roustabouts, and they play a good game. So let's get out there and practice!"
Red thought that she could have given a more inspiring speech. However, the other players cheered and skated onto the field, sliding on the greasy leaves. At first they just skidded around, getting their skating legs back. Then, at Gobo's instruction, they got their sticks and began hitting rock hockey pillows around.
Red called, "Mokey, your grip is all wrong! Hold the stick to the paddle faces forward! The way you're holding it now, the pillow'll go to the side."
"Oh?" Mokey took a swing, and the pillow flew off at a tangent. "So it will," she said, and turned the stick in her hands.
Gobo let the team mess around. Red, however, was frustrated. "Tosh, relax! You can skate faster if you lean into your strokes instead of Doozerfooting around. Look, I'll show you."
She reached for the leaves. Gobo had expected this. He stepped between her and the pile of practice leaves and said, "No, Red. You're benched."
"For crying out loud, I'm just going to give her some skating pointers! What do you think I'm going to do, clobber myself skating across the cave?"
"No, you're not, because you're not going to skate at all."
"Give me a break!"
"No, Red. We agreed. You're co-coach this season, but you won't play."
"This is only practice!" she whined.
He folded his arms and said firmly, "Red."
She gritted her teeth and glared at him. He looked calmly back at her. "Fine," she snapped.
"Good. And keep helping us with technique, eh? Without you on the field we need your advice more than ever."
Red waited until Gobo was back on the rink before muttering "That's for sure." Most of the team was good, she admitted to herself. Not quite her caliber, but then who was besides Gobo on his best day? But now she couldn't do anything. No climbing, no high diving, nothing that might conceivably give her even the tiniest bruise or scrape. And they were all in on it, everyone in Fraggle Rock. Even Mokey. It was a conspiracy! If it wasn't for swimming, she'd go completely out of her mind!
The Gorgbusters spent several hours on the rink. Red was pleased that the rest of the team soon got their skating legs back. Their muscles remembered how it went. And they listened to her directions, and most of the time they were able to follow them. Red stopped short of telling Mokey not to get distracted by passing spiderflies, or rock daisies, or pretty reflections of sunlight on the cave ceiling; that was just Mokey being Mokey. Instead, she did her best to get her good and interested in the game so she would stay focused. Would it work? Who knew?
Finally Gobo called out, "All right, let's not overwork it on the first day. Great practice, everyone!"
While everyone skated off the rink and went to an adjacent cave to put away their gear, Gobo walked over to Red. "What'ja think?" He held out his hand.
She took it, and he helped her stand up. Not that she needed help, but she wouldn't refuse it either. "There's hope."
"That's good. Y'know, Red, the team isn't the same without you."
She sighed. "I know, I know. But I'll be back next year!"
"Yeah. 'Til then-" He laid a hand on her very round belly and said softly, "Mama's taking good care of you."
She rolled her eyes, then said, "Kick him for me, would you, kid?"
Gobo chucked. "C'mon, let's go for a swim."
"Now you're talking! Race you to the Fraggle Pond!"
"Okay," he said, and took her hand.
Fraggle Rock and 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.
That's a cute li'l oneshot. Glad that is only sitting out due to her pending birthing of Poncle. Thanks for sharing this with us.
What a nice story, it's good to see that Red is using some restraint from the bench. I'd imagine she has to use all her self-control to keep from jumping out there herself, lol.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks. I've had it in the back of my mind that Red would not want to let pregnancy slow her down. Oh, she wouldn't do anything super-risky...but she's pretty close to full term, and her balance is way off. If she tried to skate she'd fall over, and Gobo knows it. Red's used to taking pratfalls, but there's no sense in taking any risks now, is there? That Red puts up with these restrictions shows that she agrees. Grudgingly.
Based on Mokey's experiences, Red expects to be up and playing rock hockey in a week or two. After all, she's strong and she heals fast; If Mokey's back in action after only a few days, this ought to be a piece of cake for Red! Right?
Out of curiosity, at what point in the story did it become obvious that Red is pregnant? I wasn't trying to be obvious, but I wasn't exactly concealing it either.
For me, it wasn't obvious until Gobo grabbed Red and it was siad that she had a baby belly bump towards the end of the oneshot.
Almost immediately. If Red was benched for behavior, there's no way Gobo would have rubbed salt in the wound by asking her to help, and since you didn't mention a cast or a sling....
(Did everything I wanted up until about 71/2 months with my first, including work out daily, then had to quit because of heart rate issues. Also gave up caffeine--which was pretty awful going, especially since I tended to fall asleep if I sat down. Work was interesting, to say the least....)
It makes more sense that a woman who's had a child would catch on quickly. Red's not injured, she's not sick, she's just big and off-balance and they aren't going to let her play rough sports. Not that she would really take stupid risks now, but she's known for pushing herself too hard and getting herself clobbered.
Pregnant Fraggles generally do what they feel like doing, which is usually what they were doing before. In my little world Fraggles are pretty well attuned to their bodies. Eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're sleepy, and when you have a lot of extra energy run around or fling yourself in a swimming hole. Mokey kept up with her job, gathering radishes from the Gorgs' garden, until she reached the waddling stage, at which point the others started covering for her. Red, on the other hand, was on the job until she went into labor! But then, her job is swimming and splashing around to keep the Fraggle pond in the Great Hall clean.
Another thingy I doodled out. Tee hee, I are a naughty person.
InspirationBy Kim McFarland
It was a warm summer day in Fraggle Rock. The weather was not remarkable, as there was no weather to speak of in caves, but if there had been it would have been mild and sunny. It was the kind of day when one could swim, play, run around, frolic, eat, and nap at random and have a great time.
That was just what Red Fraggle had been doing. Her job was to splash around in the swimming hole in the Great Hall to keep the water circulating, and occasionally to clean out plants when they started clogging the water flow. Today she had been running around, playing games, and cannonballing into the water hard enough to splash everyone nearby. As Fraggles did not mind being wet, this was considered amusing rather than antisocial.
Gobo and Boober were another matter. Boober had spent all day washing and scrubbing everyone else's laundry. He was an odd guy; he considered such drudgery fun. Well, to each his own, Red thought, and refrained from splashing too much when he was crossing the hall. He took pride in delivering clean laundry, and getting it wet would only rile him. Gobo was spending quality time with his maps, probably planning another exploration. She'd hear all about it soon enough.
Mokey had gone off to search for artistic inspiration, and Wembley had gone to help her look. Wembley did not share Mokey's talents, but he was always an appreciative audience. If Mokey needed a sounding board, Wembley was the Fraggle for the job.
Red finished her underwater inspection of the pool, counting the time she stayed underwater—twelve rockbeetles!—and swam to the side. Mokey was there, notebook in hand. Wembley was with her. Red said as she climbed out, "Hi, Mokey! Did you find your inspiration?"
"Oh, yes," Mokey gushed. "I wrote a new poem."
"Let's hear it! Lemme get Gobo and Boober," Red said. They hadn't been gone that long, so she couldn't have penned one of her epic poems, the ones that only Boober would actually ask to hear a second time. Mokey's short poems, on the other hand, were really good. She hustled first to Gobo and Wembley's room, then to Boober's cave. When she came back Mokey was perched on a rock arch, notebook pen in her lap, ready for her recitation. Wembley was sitting beside her, reading what she had written, his lips moving silently.
Gobo said, "What's your poem about, Mokey?"
"It's not too exciting, is it?" Boober asked uneasily.
"It's nothing you can't handle, Boober," Mokey said with a smile. "I call it The Rush."
Red wondered if it was about a race. That would be great! "Go on, Mokey."
Mokey cleared her throat and sat up straight. "The Rush, by Mokey Fraggle.
"Through the cave we walk,Together, hands touching,
Water wetting our feet.
The stream deepens, calls to us, carries us with it."
Ah, a philosophical poem, Boober thought, listening raptly.
"We run with the water,Together, hands touching.
We flow with the water,As it deepens and speeds,Splashing and eddying, wetting our hands."
Gobo thought, Ah, they must have gone swimming.
"We swim in the water,The current carrying us, buoying us, tumbling us,Together, hands touching.We reach the waterfall and fly over the edge into space,Together, hands touching,Into the air, floating for a shining moment."
Red grinned. This sounded like one of her dives!
"We plunge into the water,Surrounding us, warm and cool,Soothing and exhilarating, life giving.The water cradles us as we floatTogether, hands touching."
She finished and looked around with a smile, clearly pleased with herself. Red said, "That was great, Mokey!"
Wembley said, "Yeah, it was. She wrote that all at once, too."
"It just came to me," Mokey said, and giggled. Wembley giggled too.
"Sounds like you had a great swim," Gobo said.
Mokey smiled and said, "I'm going to go get a snack. All that poetry worked up an appetite."
"Yeah, me too."
Mokey put her notebook in the pocket of her robelike sweater and went off toward the pantry. Red said, "Wow, I can't believe that Mokey finally wrote a poem about swimming!"
"Did she?" Boober asked.
Gobo said, "What do you mean? Weren't you paying attention?"
Boober lifted his laundry basket. "Did you notice that they're both dry?" he said with a hint of amusement.
Fraggle Rock and all characters therein is copyright © The Jim Henson Company, and is used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (email@example.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
For someone who doesn't have visible eyes, Boober's very observant, hahaha. Thanks for sharing!
Hee hee. You saw what I did there, eh?
Janken Meets the Wish-Granting Creature
Dear Mamas, Papas, and sisters,
Today I met the Wish-Granting Creature that Uncle Matt wrote about so long ago. He asked what I wanted, and then asked if I had been naughty or nice. I was impressed with his wisdom. I believe that he is like the Trash Heap because he made me think about what I was asking rather than giving me the answers. Now I know why so many Silly Creatures go to consult with him.
P.S. I was kind of stuck for an answer as to what I wanted, because I already have all I need. I told him that it gets cold in the caves in winter, so a pair of thick socks would be nice.
Huh, I wonder if he remembered to bring his mittens.
Awww! What a cute picture! I hope Janken gets his socks for Christmas.
The Count: If who brought his mittens?
Charlietheowl: I think Janken's safe in that department. Certainly Scooter is aware that Jan (like any Fraggle) likes socks. And if Scooter doesn't get the message, I'm sure Boober wouldn't let his son go around with cold tootsies.
Hee. Twas a reference to how Gobo forgot his mittens when he went in search of the Great Bell of Fraggle Rock. And then Cantus commented how he should have brought his own mittens when he went after Gobo. So I was asking if Jan forgot his mittens as well in like manner when he went trekking through the harsh cold to see Santa.
*Makes hot chocolate for the weary Christmas travelers.
Ah, OK. I knew the bit about Gobo and Cantus forgetting their mittens. (And they weren't mittens, they were fingerless gloves, which would be useless against cold weather.) And Janken didn't wear his mittens or hat, as the "harsh cold" was sixty-four degrees.
Separate names with a comma.