Gafinilan gets VH1 Classic now

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

So here are two small fics... rather, one fic and one drabble. One full of mood whiplash, one pure fluff and joy. 
MY LOVE KNOWS NO BOUNDS. <3 And my brain never ceases coming up with ideas that seem brilliant at 3 AM. :D

Title: TGIF! (here, standing for, 'Truly, Gafinilan Is.. Eff'd.')
Author: Sylver. Lover of doomed minor characters.
Summary: Gafinilan would love his teaching job if it weren't for all these damn human kids - but at least he's got a friend in the back of his head. Until everything goes straight to hell...
Word count: 1787
Warnings: Lulzy 80's comedy movie shout-outs. :D Also, mood whiplash. Starts out fun, then... not so much...

“This will be on the final exam, so I would advise you to pay attention. Now. Anyone?” He stared holes in the young humans unfortunate enough to occupy the lecture room's front row. His attention turned to a trio who seemed to delight in testing his patience.

“Bueller?” he asked the first.

Wide-eyed, apologetic and innocent, the not-quite-adult male shook his head. Unsurprised, the man they knew as Professor McClellan (and other names he wasn't supposed to know about) turned his hard stare onto the next – who apparently shared the same surname.

“Bueller?” The same response. He turned to the last one. “Bueller?”

Stifled snickers flurried in the back of the room, and Gafinilan's eyes narrowed. Why did they always laugh when he addressed those students? Either his translator implant was malfunctioning, or there was some human subtlety he wasn't quite picking up on.

<I will never understand these aliens,> he muttered in thought-speak to the constant presence in the back of his mind. <I never know what will make them laugh.>

<I think I might know...> A little squiggle of amusement – now Mertil was laughing, and it did nothing to ease Gafinilan's irritation. Was everyone in on the joke except him?

<What? They all share the same name through extensive inbreeding? I wouldn't be surprised.>

<I'll tell you when you get home.> Mertil grinned through their link. <Then you'll get to see the looks on their faces when you tell them you're onto their fun. Just tell them you receive 'VH1 Classic' now.>

Gafinilan sighed mentally, and rubbed his human temples. Even morphs got tension headaches. <You've been watching the – what is it called? Televisor?>

<Television... it's primitive, of course, but extremely informative. And entertaining.We have to learn about this new culture, Gafinilan, if we're going to blend in. You especially...>

<I know, I know.> Gafinilan brought his attention back to the class – thanks to their heightened telepathy bond, the exchange with Mertil had taken just under a full second. He could generally carry on a normal conversation while never appearing to pause or falter.

“All right, let's try this one more time, slowly. Who can tell me how to find the derivative of a constant?”

He spoke mainly to avoid telling Mertil that he had about as much intention of watching the 'television' for entertainment as he did throwing himself off a cliff. And saying that he really did not want to relate to these creatures on any level. Mertil would just go into his 'Humans aren't the enemy, the Yeerks are' spiel, and Gafinilan would pray for a battlefield and something to hit with his tail. Anything was better than being stuck in a horribly confined room with thirty human adolescents five days a week. Caught in a box where he couldn't see the sky, enclosed by four walls and not nearly enough exits, kept away from the little fortress of relative safety he'd built in the house, away from his garden, away from Mertil...

“...This is day one material.” he said flatly – he didn't have the energy to get angry.

If any of these children – they were nothing more than that, he thought - showed so much as a flicker of interest, it wouldn't have been so bad. On the first day, Gafinilan had warmed easily to his subject and tried to engage them in earnest, even with enthusiasm – but the complexities of particle physics and experimental, hypothetical (of course, hypothetical to them) equations left every one of his pupils in the dust. He learned then to slow down... slow way, way down, and go back to the calculus equivalent of teaching a three-year-old its ABCs.

He got bored. And frustrated. And then, he got cranky. Crankier than usual, some of them might have said.

But then – wonder of wonders – a scruffy young male in the back row raised his hand. Gafinilan looked up in a slight degree of shock, and he could feel Mertil paying a bit closer attention too, clearly curious as well at what the human might say.

“Yes, you?” he let just a slight note of hope sneak into his voice.

“I know it has something to do with 'C,'” the lazy-eyed youth said. He wore a loopy sort of half-smile and gazed woozily down at his professor from beneath a grimy knit cap. Gafinilan could see the red in the whites of his eyes and smell something sweet and clinging all the way from here.

Illegal smoked substances, the young man reeked of them. Gafinilan might have reported it to the dean, if he actually gave a damn.

“Yes, it does.” he said slowly instead. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“I know it's 'C,' because I remembered it with that song – 'C is for cookie, that's good enough for meeee,' well C is also for finding derivatives and shit. And that's good enough for me!” The young man dissolved into a fit of high-pitched giggles.

'Professor McClellan' didn't actually have an answer for that, and wondered for the second time that day if his translator chip weren't on the fritz. Drug-addled moron or not, this student simply couldn't be singing about cookies in his class. He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, even to Mertil – who'd tactfully backed off a bit.

Gafinilan wanted to go home. In a lot of ways.

<At least it's your last class of the day... and a Friday.> Mertil said quietly after a moment. He opened their connection a little more, like taking in a deep breath, and Gafinilan knew where he was. Mertil sent him the feeling of fresh, rushing air and the heartbeat-thrum of hooves. He was running through the wooded area behind the house, stretching his legs and trying to forget for just a moment that he wasn't home, not really.

<Just let them out early and come home. Forget about all this for a while.>

Yes, so he could focus on the little things, like surviving.

<Believe me... I'd like nothing better.> Gafinilan sighed and let himself enjoy the heady sense of running with Mertil for a while, comforted by the echo of a beautiful wide space opening up around him. <But I've been invited by some of my coworkers to a business and social gathering, a... 'working lunch,' I believe they said. And I'm running out of excuses not to socialize.>

<Hmm, lunch. At least you'll enjoy the tastes.>

<Yes – something called Thai food, they said. A genre I've yet to experience. Apparently I'm in for quite the 'thrill ride.'>

<Well, have fun...> The words came with a breath of wistfulness. Mertil always caught the gist of the amazing sense of taste when Gafinilan enjoyed it, but even their joined telepathy couldn't share with him the wonders of taste. The miracle of an orange, an explosion of citrus on this new thing called a tongue, juicy and sweet and tangy.

Mertil wasn't even entirely sure what 'tangy' was. He didn't understand it any more than these simple-minded aliens understood the elegant equations on the blackboard.

<I'm sorry, Mertil.> Because now there was a new sense creeping in through their link – something beyond disappointment. Isolation. And the sadness of being driven slowly out of his head through day after day of hiding, finding some small vicarious joy in enduring a class full of idiots named Bueller with his absent Shorm, and desperately turning to the thing called 'television' for relief and companionship.

<I'll be home as soon as possible,> Gafinilan promised, sending a little wave of reassurance, closeness. <Maybe I'll even call in sick on Monday. I haven't used any of my vacation days so far.>

<Just escape when you can. Television is a poor substitute for...>

Mertil trailed off, and all Gafinilan could sense was vague unsettledness, worry. He frowned, jolted by the sudden change. <Mertil?>
He didn't get an answer right away. A cold shiver ran up and down his strange vertical human spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, stood on end.

<It's gone all quiet...> Mertil said slowly, giving the impression of turning around in a gradual circle, looking all around carefully. <The woods. I don't like this, Gafinilan, it's like there's something here->

Wham.

Gafinilan gasped out loud as pain and the white explosion of a dizzying impact slammed through their link, reverberating through his head, making the room spin. He nearly was knocked off his feet, and he was only experiencing this second-hand, what Mertil must be feeling -

<Mertil!> he shouted, feeling almost sick from the sudden flood of adrenaline through his veins. <What's happening, are you all->

It burned like fire, like a neurological shock weapon, but it paralyzed like poison, like a nerve agent or taser, Gafinilan felt the spasmodic, frenzied jerking of the four legs he didn't have, the wild, terrified darting of stalk eyes to see what hit him -

And then he felt the cold, heavy feeling of dread settle in his stomach, fill his limbs with a fear more paralyzing than any weapon, any poison.

<Mertil, answer me!>

<It's... it's them, I... hit with something... can't move...>

<Hang on – just hang on, I'll be right there, I'll->

<Gafinilan... dark...>

“Hey... Professor Mc-C? You okay?”

Good Lord, the little stoner had actually noticed something besides cookies. He stared vapidly down at the gray-faced, trembling McClellan, who was gripping his podium to keep himself upright, his knees weak and shaking.

Gafinilan glanced back up at them – then felt another horrifying wave of panic. Every one of his students was staring at him with varying degrees of interest, concern, and suspicion. And a buried fear rose to the surface of his panicked brain, something he'd always been aware of in the back of his head but managed to control -

Control. Controller.

How many of these humans were really human? How many hid something sick and gruesome and evil within their skulls? How many were watching him right now?

He had to stay. He had to assume every single human in this room was a yeerk slave, watching him for any sign of weakness... He couldn't move, he had to -

<Help...> Mertil's thought-speak was sluggish, weak, growing faint and blurred at the edges. He was losing consciousness, fading from Gafinilan's mental presence. <Need you...>

He had to get out of there.

“That's – that's all for today – class dismissed!”

Looking stricken, Henry McClellan tore out the door. Nobody followed or even moved, but Mertil's fading cries chased him every step of the way.


And to make the sads better... have some fluff.
Yes, it's Gafinilan/Mertil FLUFF. And HAPPINESS. Can you freaking believe it!? I can't!

Title: Perennial
Word count: 513
Summary: Gafinilan loves all the green, living things in his garden. But there's one that's special...
Warnings: Terrible wordplay. And excessive sweetness.
Notes: OH GOD, I DID IT, I GAVE THEM A FULLY FLUFFY STORY. I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW. :D

Mertil took a deep breath of the warm, heavily scented air, nostrils tingling slightly at the many strong, pleasant smells that drifted around him. He lay completely at ease on his side in a puddle of warm, bright sunlight through the greenhouse's transparent roof, flowers swaying above his head and at his fingertips.

Nearby, Gafinilan fiddled with a plant that was bursting with colorful blossoms. Calm and relaxed as Mertil had ever seen him in their entire time on this strange planet. Finally, a moment of peace and quiet where they didn't have to focus all their energy on bare survival, but could enjoy simply existing, simply being together.

Mertil propped himself up on one elbow to see better. He loved watching Gafinilan work, seeing the huge, powerful hands move so lightly, so gently. Though the name he'd made for himself on the battlefield and in the fighter pilot's cockpit was still known widely, his greatest happiness, his greatest art was here, with the small lives he coaxed out from under his callused fingertips.

<Which one of these earth plants is your favorite?>

Gafinilan smiled down at the magnificently unfolding orange rose in his large, rough hand; it was a soft-fleshed explosion of color and life. He gently turned the flower's face to better catch the sun, running a finger over the beautifully interlocking, intricate petals.

<I've never seen such an incredible variety – they might as well all be from different worlds. And they're all fascinating in their own ways...> He didn't look up from the rose bed, although his stalk eyes gravitated back toward his Shorm.

<Though there is one species I am particularly fond of...>

He didn't finish the thought – and Mertil detected something rare through their link. A little flurry of – what, trepidation? Excitement? Almost sheepishness? A little of all that rolled into one. And if Mertil hadn't known better, and thought the brave Gafinilan incapable of it, he would have thought that his thoughtspeak sounded almost... shy.

He waited.

But Gafinilan didn't reply, seemed wholly absorbed in another flower bed next to the roses, a plain plant that looked small and shabby beside the brilliant flowers. An unassuming shrub that grew close to the ground, sprouting a few delicate pinkish buds. It wasn't the most impressive or beautiful specimen in the garden, but Gafinilan touched it so tenderly, almost reverently, with a respect and fondness he hadn't had for the roses, glorious as they were.

<Is that it?> Mertil prodded gently. <The one you love most of all?>

<Yes, it is - Lagerstroemia.> Gafinilan gently plucked a sprig of the shrub, then looked back up at his Shorm with all his eyes, all of them smiling. A strong, comforting warmth saturated their link, flowed between them like the heady scents of the greenhouse life in the air. <But I prefer its informal name.>

<And what's that?>

<'Myrtle.'>

Comments

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! <3 I'm happy ye liked it.

[kat-nic.livejournal.com]

*sniff* Oh, it's beautiful. Poor Mertil...at least we know that one ends more or less happily.

FINALLY FLUFF!!! D'AWWW. I LOVE CORNY WORDPLAY. AND THE HOUSE I GREW UP IN HAD MYRTLES IN THE FRONT YARD. /COOL STORY No, seriously, I love quiet little snippets where nothing much happens, and you get a chance to really know characters.

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

THANK YOU DEAR. I am so happy that ye like this, honestly. xD Oh gosh. YEAH, THEY REALLY, REALLY NEEDED SOME HAPPYFLUFF. And oh, Gaffy. We know you're a sweetie underneath it all. You have a soft spot for Mertil like a GIANT MARSHMALLOW.

Yes cool story! :3 I think it's neat, anyway.

And yeah... sometimes you just need a quiet scene. You can reveal more that way sometimes than through a buttload of action.

... I might have moar ficdrabbles. One crack, one OHGODANGSTNOOO. And... I'll post this too, but this might be relevant to yer interests. I made it last night. And it seemed like a good idea at the time. xD

http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn55/SylverLining/YOGAFINILANcopy.jpg?t=1284534887

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

I mean, DAMN. xD The ghostwriter for 40 just wasn't being subtle about ANYTHING.

WHY WOULD THEY NAME A GARDEN-LOVER'S BEST SPECIAL SOUL-BONDED FRIEND AFTER A PLANT? xD WHAT POSSIBLE REASON, WHAT COULD WE EVER BE SUPPOSED TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS?

I JUST HAVE NO IDEA.

[lisacharly.livejournal.com]

Aww, the second one is fluff in the best of all possible ways. Very cute and yet I can totally see them doing that.

I'm a bit confused about the first, though I like it - is Gafinilan narrating everything that's happening to Mertil, or just Mertil just knows those students' alleged names?

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. <3 Ohohohohoh jeez. That second one might be one of my Happy Thoughts. For pixie dust flying and whatnot. SUNNY GREENHOUSE AND FLOWERS AND PEACEFUL!GAFFY AND "MYRTLE". Oh my yes. :3

And yeah, for the first one, I kind of... stretched their mind-link. x3 Like I don't know HOW STRONG IT IS really, but the fact that they can hear one another unless they're on other freaking planets leads me to believe it's pretty damn strong. So the "OOH THIS WOULD BE NEAT!" dork in me thought it'd be... NEAT... if they could sort of send feelings or sensations back and forth, and Gafinilan would be sharing what's going on with Mertil - and vice-versa.

Not exactly canon, but I thought it'd add a really cool dimension.

[riona-daidouji.livejournal.com]

OMG I SQUEED OUT LOUD AT THE END OF THE SECOND ONE.

Seriously. Not being good with plants, I of course had no idea what plant he was talking about until he said it's informal name, and then MUCH SQUEEING.

[sylverlining.livejournal.com]

:D AWESOOOOME. Homfg I'm so glad ye liked it.

I... aghdhhg. <3 Ye know how people have Happy Thoughts, or like, Happy Places? And in Peter Pan how they would lift you up with pixie dust?

Gafinilan and Mertil in their sunny greenhouse, alive and together and happy, is one of my happy thoughts. I don't give a crap how stupid that sounds, or weird it is that two one-shot characters in a children's book series affects me so much, but. They do. They're special to me, and they MATTER. And when they're warm and happy, so am I.

... Gawd I'm a dork. xD

And yeah - book 40 is just NOT AT ALL SUBTLE. They named Gafinilan's (an awesome gardener) shorm, his super-special BFF with whom he shares a freaking SOUL BOND MADE OF LOVES... after a plant. A PLANT. xD THEY NAMED - IT'S LIKE HOW IN THE LORD OF THE RINGS, Sam - a gardener hobbit - marries someone named what? ROSIE.

It's like. Yeah. Good job, KA/Ghostwriter, I see what you did there. x3