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Plot Weasel: 101
Disclaimer: Not mine. Subreality as a concept was started long ago by venerable people in comicbook fandom. The Plot Weasel room has been filled to the brim, but rarely written about.
This is not a crossover.
Plot Weasels: Zen and the Art of Fighting Amongst Yourselves... Not
by ALC
In a small room off to the side of the large taproom of an unremarkable Cafe situated in a slowly dwindling, yet no less useful town, three women sat around a table and sipped their drinks. (in a corner of this room, there slumped a de-throned and pale-skinned vampire, but he's being prissy and sleepy, and so he has no presence in this moment in time. Really.)
"Fight? Why would we fight?" The chestnut-haired girl snorted and took a long pull at her drink.
"Maybe in the beginning," the blonde decided, glancing at the brunette. "Y'know, before I let you blow up a sun."
The strong-featured woman smirked, "Perhaps it was simply my pulse pistol you were jealous of."
"Nope. I hate guns." Smiling sweetly as the other two rolled their eyes, the chestnut continued, "Besides, I can hack my way around BOTH of you, and not even break a sweat."
"Y'know," the blonde said conversationally, "I hate smart aleck little girls."
"Look, old lady --"
"Sam. Kitty." The brunette eyed them, "While it's vaguely amusing, the beer is better."
"Right. Good point, Aeryn." Kitty shrugged, then tossed back more of her drink and glanced at Sam Carter. "So, you blew up a sun."
"Seemed the thing to do at the time," the blonde replied with her own shrug.
Across the room (further away than they looked, since they actually couldn't HEAR the conversation), three men were sitting at their own table.
"Oh, this is not good," announced John Crichton, eyeing the three women with something approaching worry.
"What ain't?" Pete Wisdom demanded before leering at Kitty and trying to light a cigarette. Failing miserably at the latter until he stopped the former (non-plused, since she didn't appear to notice him).
"Our girlfriends. Talking."
"Hey!" The older man, also known as Jack O'Neill waved a hand. "Carter's not my girlfriend. She's my --"
"Right." John and Pete exchanged a look, rolling their eyes.
"Second in command."
"Uh-huh."
"And what's so bad about her spending some quality time with some other women?"
"Well, fer starters," Wisdom paused to puff on his cigarette happily, "Pryde likes to blow things up."
"You obviously weren't here the night Aeryn, Domino and Jean Grey decided they should paint the town red," Crichton muttered. "I don't think they got everything back to normal for over a month."
"Well, Domino ain't here," noted Jack before he took a swig of his beer. "So I don't see a problem."
"Speak of the devil and she appears," Wisdom muttered as another brunette strode into the room and made a bee-line for the other table, accepting the drink Pryde held out to her.
"Hey, I'll thank you not to call my partner a devil, Wisdom. I still know how to make Pryde do bad things to you." An older man, slightly grizzled around the edges, settled into a chair with care.
"I speak only the truth, Cable."
All three of the other men snickered into their next beer.
Time passed.
Arguments occurred. John finally decided he was going to prove his point about the bad idea that was their girlfriends (and O'Neill was too far gone to object to the nomenclature, whilst Wisdom smirked and Cable snorted) plotting together.
"Guys, guys, look, I'll prove it." With a cranky mumble, John dragged himself out of his chair and went across the room to the other table. "Ladies," he said as he approached, "You're not planning on blowing up the world are you?"
"That," said Pryde dryly, "would be boring."
"We were thinking of playing pool with planets," Carter looked a little smug, "With the correct application of gravity and a minimal amount of slippage, we could knock the Aschen homeworld into a black hole."
"And then the scarrans," said Aeryn.
"Right."
John made his careful way back to the other table and sat. "We're gonna need another round."
"Good plan," Wisdom slurred.
Jack waved a hand, "He always this cheap a date?"
"He probably drank his breakfast," Cable replied.
-f-
This is not a crossover.
Plot Weasels: Zen and the Art of Fighting Amongst Yourselves... Not
by ALC
In a small room off to the side of the large taproom of an unremarkable Cafe situated in a slowly dwindling, yet no less useful town, three women sat around a table and sipped their drinks. (in a corner of this room, there slumped a de-throned and pale-skinned vampire, but he's being prissy and sleepy, and so he has no presence in this moment in time. Really.)
"Fight? Why would we fight?" The chestnut-haired girl snorted and took a long pull at her drink.
"Maybe in the beginning," the blonde decided, glancing at the brunette. "Y'know, before I let you blow up a sun."
The strong-featured woman smirked, "Perhaps it was simply my pulse pistol you were jealous of."
"Nope. I hate guns." Smiling sweetly as the other two rolled their eyes, the chestnut continued, "Besides, I can hack my way around BOTH of you, and not even break a sweat."
"Y'know," the blonde said conversationally, "I hate smart aleck little girls."
"Look, old lady --"
"Sam. Kitty." The brunette eyed them, "While it's vaguely amusing, the beer is better."
"Right. Good point, Aeryn." Kitty shrugged, then tossed back more of her drink and glanced at Sam Carter. "So, you blew up a sun."
"Seemed the thing to do at the time," the blonde replied with her own shrug.
Across the room (further away than they looked, since they actually couldn't HEAR the conversation), three men were sitting at their own table.
"Oh, this is not good," announced John Crichton, eyeing the three women with something approaching worry.
"What ain't?" Pete Wisdom demanded before leering at Kitty and trying to light a cigarette. Failing miserably at the latter until he stopped the former (non-plused, since she didn't appear to notice him).
"Our girlfriends. Talking."
"Hey!" The older man, also known as Jack O'Neill waved a hand. "Carter's not my girlfriend. She's my --"
"Right." John and Pete exchanged a look, rolling their eyes.
"Second in command."
"Uh-huh."
"And what's so bad about her spending some quality time with some other women?"
"Well, fer starters," Wisdom paused to puff on his cigarette happily, "Pryde likes to blow things up."
"You obviously weren't here the night Aeryn, Domino and Jean Grey decided they should paint the town red," Crichton muttered. "I don't think they got everything back to normal for over a month."
"Well, Domino ain't here," noted Jack before he took a swig of his beer. "So I don't see a problem."
"Speak of the devil and she appears," Wisdom muttered as another brunette strode into the room and made a bee-line for the other table, accepting the drink Pryde held out to her.
"Hey, I'll thank you not to call my partner a devil, Wisdom. I still know how to make Pryde do bad things to you." An older man, slightly grizzled around the edges, settled into a chair with care.
"I speak only the truth, Cable."
All three of the other men snickered into their next beer.
Time passed.
Arguments occurred. John finally decided he was going to prove his point about the bad idea that was their girlfriends (and O'Neill was too far gone to object to the nomenclature, whilst Wisdom smirked and Cable snorted) plotting together.
"Guys, guys, look, I'll prove it." With a cranky mumble, John dragged himself out of his chair and went across the room to the other table. "Ladies," he said as he approached, "You're not planning on blowing up the world are you?"
"That," said Pryde dryly, "would be boring."
"We were thinking of playing pool with planets," Carter looked a little smug, "With the correct application of gravity and a minimal amount of slippage, we could knock the Aschen homeworld into a black hole."
"And then the scarrans," said Aeryn.
"Right."
John made his careful way back to the other table and sat. "We're gonna need another round."
"Good plan," Wisdom slurred.
Jack waved a hand, "He always this cheap a date?"
"He probably drank his breakfast," Cable replied.
-f-
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bah. hrm.
*falls asleep on the couch*
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