Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2009-04-25 12:54 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2009-04-25 12:54 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Being For the Benefit of Phantom Limb; The Sovereign/Phantom Limb; PG-13
And...more fic! I don't know what's gotten into me, but my creative juices are flowing. A pity I have to go to my nephew's birthday party today, I think I could make some serious headway on my fic backlist!
Anyway, this was born out of two parts. Last night, as I was enjoying my Friday night pain relief, I ended up listening to a lot of David Bowie. (Which prompted other writing adventures, but I'm afraid those can't be shared.) Anyway, his cover of 'Across the Universe' came on. To my ears at that point, it sounded like bad karaoke. I mentioned this to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nijawial while we were cleaning the porch, and made a joke about David Bowie getting drunk and performing bad karaoke, and she demanded a fic. It...turned out a lot different than I'd intended.
Title: Being For the Benefit of Phantom Limb
Author:theladyfeylene
Pairing: The Sovereign/Phantom Limb
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 2 and 3 spoilers
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1059
Summary: Sometimes, Phantom Limb needed to rethink his philosophy of doing anything to ensure his place at the Sovereign's right hand.
Oh bugger.
Phantom Limb sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be One of Those Nights. The council was more than halfway to drunk, there were bubbles in the pool, and the Sovereign had taken over the karaoke machine. Hadn’t these people any respect for private property?
Of course not.
“Use a coaster!” Phantom Limb yelled at no one in particular, eyes narrowing at a nearly-empty glass left on his Edwardian coffee table. Why did he insist on throwing these parties?
Ah yes, because he wanted to be sure he was next in line to head the Guild when the Sovereign finally did himself in with booze and drugs and wild sex and high risk calamitous behavior. One needed to maintain ones connections and influence, after all.
“Why is it always the Beatles?” he asked himself, shaking his head. A rather tinny and unpleasant rendition of some poor slaughtered classic or another was quickly filling the mansion. One would think that a world renowned musical super-star would be able to carry a tune after a few drinks, but time and time again the Sovereign had proved Phantom Limb wrong.
There was a crash from somewhere outside and Phantom Limb felt his headache double. He’d be paying out the ears to get this place cleaned up tomorrow. He spared a glance out the window. Ah, one of the Sovereign’s men had found the pool - the German freak, it looked like.
Now well past midnight, Phantom Limb decided that it was time for damage control. Or at the very least, time to drag the Sovereign away from the karaoke machine.
He timed it just right. Timing was a large part of efficiency, and Phantom Limb was nothing if not efficient. He moved across the room slowly, casually, smiling despite his throbbing headache and disgust with the actions of his guests. There was glass on the floor. He was rather certain he’d heard someone mentioning hiring escorts. These were the most refined, dangerous men in the entire world…and they behaved like a bunch of Rolling Stone rejects.
The things one did for one’s future.
“My liege,” he began, as one song ended. “Perhaps you’d prefer a bit of fresh air?”
The Sovereign blinked down at Phantom Limb before nodding. He was still dressed for one of his public appearances. It had to be terribly tiring, juggling two such demanding lives. He couldn’t keep it up forever, and after all, he had bee going at it for three decades already.
“Yes, that sounds about right,” he said, nodding again. “Does a body good, and all that.”
“Indeed.” Without asking if it was needed, Phantom Limb offered his arm. He doubted the man could cross to the couch on his own, let alone manage to get himself outside. The scent of drink and marijuana were heavy on him.
Ah well, at least he’d finally abandoned that disastrous cocaine habit of his. Those had been unpleasant years in the Guild, to say the least.
“You throw a hell of a party, Hamilton.”
Only the Sovereign was allowed such leniency as to refer to Phantom Limb by his birth name. The super villain simply smiled as his arm was taken. He led his liege carefully to the balcony outside, where it was blissfully quiet. The council was inside, the others god-knew-where. No longer in the pool, at any rate.
“I’m honored you grace me with your repeated company, my liege,” Phantom Limb finally said, diplomatically. Kissing up had taken him this far, and he imagined it would take him the rest of the way. Really now, how long did this man have to live? It was a wonder that he could manage the entire guild, what with his rock and roll lifestyle.
“You’re indispensable to the Guild, Phantom,” the Sovereign said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.“ A rare moment of clarity this late in the night, and Phantom Limb preened. The Sovereign looked out across the quiet countryside for a moment before speaking again. “Mick Jagger’s arse in the sack, did I ever tell you that?”
“Yes, Sovereign, I believe you’ve mentioned it a number of times.” And all was back to normal.
“Bloody terrible, really. Do you know who you remind me of?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess, my liege.”
“I’ve forgotten. Funny, isn’t it? But it wasn’t really all that important, was it?”
“I suppose not.” The man’s eyes always bothered Phantom Limb. The left one, always skewed and widened and looking as though it belonged to a madman. Well, he supposed they were all mad, in a way. He was mad for allowing this sort of thing to go on, for prostrating himself to a drug-addled rock star in hopes of gaining the glory he so deserved. And they were mad in the way that some wealthy, powerful men simply turned to madness.
Life truly wasn’t fair sometimes.
But that was alright. He could bend and bow and lick shoes for a few more years. It would be worth it in the end, when the Guild was his and his alone. He would control the council and the strangers. He would be Sovereign. And things would be a great deal different. He’d bide his time and do what he had to in order to keep himself close to the Sovereign. Indispensable.
Bowie was still speaking to him. Phantom Limb realized he’d stopped paying attention and nodded vaguely, aware that he had been asked some sort of question. Catching only the last bit, he assumed he’d been asked to do something. It hardly mattered; whatever it was, Bowie would forget by morning.
“Really now?” was the rather surprised - but pleased - response.
Oh bother, what on earth had he just agreed with? The Sovereign was leaning towards him, lean body angled almost menacingly. In moments like these, even through the haze of liquor and drugs, Phantom Limb could see the calculating, brilliant man that had risen to the top of the Guild of Calamitous Intent. The man that kept Phantom Limb from doing anything foolish to force his dreams to fruition early. The man that Phantom Limb was willing to do anything to appease.
“The bedroom or right here?” was asked quietly, almost silkily.
And then that man’s tongue was in his ear.
Oh bugger.
Anyway, this was born out of two parts. Last night, as I was enjoying my Friday night pain relief, I ended up listening to a lot of David Bowie. (Which prompted other writing adventures, but I'm afraid those can't be shared.) Anyway, his cover of 'Across the Universe' came on. To my ears at that point, it sounded like bad karaoke. I mentioned this to
nijawial while we were cleaning the porch, and made a joke about David Bowie getting drunk and performing bad karaoke, and she demanded a fic. It...turned out a lot different than I'd intended.Title: Being For the Benefit of Phantom Limb
Author:
theladyfeylenePairing: The Sovereign/Phantom Limb
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 2 and 3 spoilers
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1059
Summary: Sometimes, Phantom Limb needed to rethink his philosophy of doing anything to ensure his place at the Sovereign's right hand.
Oh bugger.
Phantom Limb sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be One of Those Nights. The council was more than halfway to drunk, there were bubbles in the pool, and the Sovereign had taken over the karaoke machine. Hadn’t these people any respect for private property?
Of course not.
“Use a coaster!” Phantom Limb yelled at no one in particular, eyes narrowing at a nearly-empty glass left on his Edwardian coffee table. Why did he insist on throwing these parties?
Ah yes, because he wanted to be sure he was next in line to head the Guild when the Sovereign finally did himself in with booze and drugs and wild sex and high risk calamitous behavior. One needed to maintain ones connections and influence, after all.
“Why is it always the Beatles?” he asked himself, shaking his head. A rather tinny and unpleasant rendition of some poor slaughtered classic or another was quickly filling the mansion. One would think that a world renowned musical super-star would be able to carry a tune after a few drinks, but time and time again the Sovereign had proved Phantom Limb wrong.
There was a crash from somewhere outside and Phantom Limb felt his headache double. He’d be paying out the ears to get this place cleaned up tomorrow. He spared a glance out the window. Ah, one of the Sovereign’s men had found the pool - the German freak, it looked like.
Now well past midnight, Phantom Limb decided that it was time for damage control. Or at the very least, time to drag the Sovereign away from the karaoke machine.
He timed it just right. Timing was a large part of efficiency, and Phantom Limb was nothing if not efficient. He moved across the room slowly, casually, smiling despite his throbbing headache and disgust with the actions of his guests. There was glass on the floor. He was rather certain he’d heard someone mentioning hiring escorts. These were the most refined, dangerous men in the entire world…and they behaved like a bunch of Rolling Stone rejects.
The things one did for one’s future.
“My liege,” he began, as one song ended. “Perhaps you’d prefer a bit of fresh air?”
The Sovereign blinked down at Phantom Limb before nodding. He was still dressed for one of his public appearances. It had to be terribly tiring, juggling two such demanding lives. He couldn’t keep it up forever, and after all, he had bee going at it for three decades already.
“Yes, that sounds about right,” he said, nodding again. “Does a body good, and all that.”
“Indeed.” Without asking if it was needed, Phantom Limb offered his arm. He doubted the man could cross to the couch on his own, let alone manage to get himself outside. The scent of drink and marijuana were heavy on him.
Ah well, at least he’d finally abandoned that disastrous cocaine habit of his. Those had been unpleasant years in the Guild, to say the least.
“You throw a hell of a party, Hamilton.”
Only the Sovereign was allowed such leniency as to refer to Phantom Limb by his birth name. The super villain simply smiled as his arm was taken. He led his liege carefully to the balcony outside, where it was blissfully quiet. The council was inside, the others god-knew-where. No longer in the pool, at any rate.
“I’m honored you grace me with your repeated company, my liege,” Phantom Limb finally said, diplomatically. Kissing up had taken him this far, and he imagined it would take him the rest of the way. Really now, how long did this man have to live? It was a wonder that he could manage the entire guild, what with his rock and roll lifestyle.
“You’re indispensable to the Guild, Phantom,” the Sovereign said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.“ A rare moment of clarity this late in the night, and Phantom Limb preened. The Sovereign looked out across the quiet countryside for a moment before speaking again. “Mick Jagger’s arse in the sack, did I ever tell you that?”
“Yes, Sovereign, I believe you’ve mentioned it a number of times.” And all was back to normal.
“Bloody terrible, really. Do you know who you remind me of?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess, my liege.”
“I’ve forgotten. Funny, isn’t it? But it wasn’t really all that important, was it?”
“I suppose not.” The man’s eyes always bothered Phantom Limb. The left one, always skewed and widened and looking as though it belonged to a madman. Well, he supposed they were all mad, in a way. He was mad for allowing this sort of thing to go on, for prostrating himself to a drug-addled rock star in hopes of gaining the glory he so deserved. And they were mad in the way that some wealthy, powerful men simply turned to madness.
Life truly wasn’t fair sometimes.
But that was alright. He could bend and bow and lick shoes for a few more years. It would be worth it in the end, when the Guild was his and his alone. He would control the council and the strangers. He would be Sovereign. And things would be a great deal different. He’d bide his time and do what he had to in order to keep himself close to the Sovereign. Indispensable.
Bowie was still speaking to him. Phantom Limb realized he’d stopped paying attention and nodded vaguely, aware that he had been asked some sort of question. Catching only the last bit, he assumed he’d been asked to do something. It hardly mattered; whatever it was, Bowie would forget by morning.
“Really now?” was the rather surprised - but pleased - response.
Oh bother, what on earth had he just agreed with? The Sovereign was leaning towards him, lean body angled almost menacingly. In moments like these, even through the haze of liquor and drugs, Phantom Limb could see the calculating, brilliant man that had risen to the top of the Guild of Calamitous Intent. The man that kept Phantom Limb from doing anything foolish to force his dreams to fruition early. The man that Phantom Limb was willing to do anything to appease.
“The bedroom or right here?” was asked quietly, almost silkily.
And then that man’s tongue was in his ear.
Oh bugger.