Loveathon! Make me write stuff!
Feb. 7th, 2012 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lb_leeI am cold, cranky, and my brain is hitching in that special way that tells me I probably shouldn't be at work right now. (Don't tell me to go home. Mornings are always the hardest, and at this point, it'd be HARDER for me to drag my ass the hour commute home than it would be to wait it out.)
Last year, I did pornathon. Y'all remember that. Well, it was so much fun, and with V-Day coming up, I decided to do a similar thing this year, only instead of porn, it's love.
So, gimme a prompt to write love for, and I'll do it. (Better than Laurell K. Hamilton, even!) In the spirit of the thing, I highly encourage you to give me prompts for love that our traditional Valentine's Day ignores: poly, ace, what have you. I will do fanfic if you request it, but keep in mind that it'll have to be a fandom we know. (Primarily: Justice League International and Unlimited, Empowered... my brain isn't working so hot right now, so just ask if we know it and I'll let you know. Superheroes, animated movies, and random books are your best bets.)
I can't promise speed, due to lack of Internet, but I'm hoping to have 'em done by Valentine's Day, after which I'm headed to New Orleans and out of range.
So! Loveathon! Make me write something gooshy, y'all!
--Rogan
Last year, I did pornathon. Y'all remember that. Well, it was so much fun, and with V-Day coming up, I decided to do a similar thing this year, only instead of porn, it's love.
So, gimme a prompt to write love for, and I'll do it. (Better than Laurell K. Hamilton, even!) In the spirit of the thing, I highly encourage you to give me prompts for love that our traditional Valentine's Day ignores: poly, ace, what have you. I will do fanfic if you request it, but keep in mind that it'll have to be a fandom we know. (Primarily: Justice League International and Unlimited, Empowered... my brain isn't working so hot right now, so just ask if we know it and I'll let you know. Superheroes, animated movies, and random books are your best bets.)
I can't promise speed, due to lack of Internet, but I'm hoping to have 'em done by Valentine's Day, after which I'm headed to New Orleans and out of range.
So! Loveathon! Make me write something gooshy, y'all!
--Rogan
Prompts
Date: 2012-02-07 05:58 pm (UTC)Ace: An aromantic-asexual person who isn't interested in personal engagements but adores watching people in love, and who therefore works as a florist specializing in romantic arrangements.
Platonic: Love between partners who trust their lives to each other, such as Army buddies or police partners. (This one can be Justice League fanfic if you wish.)
Familial: In which family is necessary for everyday life and happiness, but the birth family is toxic, so a transplant is required.
Re: Prompts
Date: 2012-02-07 06:26 pm (UTC)Eee! I love this one! We'll have such fun with it.
--Sneak
Coming out to the family Rodriguez (part 1)
Date: 2012-02-25 12:45 am (UTC)“You’re going to tell your family?” Raige’s eyes are wide. “Wow…”
“Yup.”
“Jeez, Thomas, I mean, good luck, I can’t imagine telling mine…”
M.D. doesn’t say anything, but her crossed arms and curled upper lip communicate exactly how she feels.
“You know, there is such a thing as a decent family,” Thomas says to her, a little nettled. “Just because y’all’s families are freaking insane—”
“My dad isn’t—” Raige starts.
“Yes he is,” M.D. and Thomas say in unison, and Raige subsides with a wince and hunched shoulders.
“So what’s brought this on?” M.D. asks as she touches Raige’s arm.
“What do you mean, what’s brought it on?” Thomas asks. “It’s driving me nuts not flirting or touching either of y’all at home—I mean, I guess I could flirt with you, babe, but that’d just be—”
She shudders. “I’m really not the flirting type.”
“Yeah, plus I’m dating Raige more than you. Anyway, I’d planned to tell them from day one. Didn’t you?”
Raige only hunches his shoulders even more and gives an apologetic (and panicking) grin. “I… was kind of hoping to let it slide until maybe I’m out of the house…”
Thomas waves a hand. “Not you, man, your dad is crazy, I’d keep my mouth shut too. But kid, you?”
M.D. looks wry. “I don’t think Number One would approve, and as for my brother…”
“You know what I mean. Your real family. Bobby and… uh…” He can’t think of anyone else. “Come on, you gotta have somebody.”
“Biff?” Raige supplies helpfully.
“No, don’t tell Biff. I don’t know who he’d try to kill first, you or me.”
“Probably me,” Raige says. “I live the closest.”
M.D. rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell eventually, I just hadn’t thought about it. It doesn’t exactly come up in casual conversation, you know: ‘so how’s it going? Have I mentioned I’m dating two people today?’ Anyway, why are you asking our permission? They’re your family; you get the power to decide what to tell them.”
“My folks’re great, but…” Thomas shrugs. “Having a back-up never killed anyone, you know?”
Raige bites his lip and tugs at his forelock. “Hey, you know, if there’s any problem…”
“There won’t be, there won’t be,” Thomas says quickly. “They know y’all, they like y’all. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
They sit in stiff silence for a moment. Then Thomas grimaces and says, “Just in case it is a problem, kid, could I…?”
“Sure, you can stay with me,” M.D. assures him. “Scorch and Flame ask after you all the time, and they’re not the only ones. You should come back to Treehouse sometime anyway, tell people how you’re doing.”
Raige is fretting with his hair. “You sure it’ll be okay? Because, you know, you can stay with me too…”
“Dude, you’re freaked out enough about coming out to your dad. No offense, but I’d rather not be stuck with you and him under the same roof, even if y’all do have indoor plumbing. But don’t worry. Like I said, it won’t be a problem.”
Surely it’s true. Raige is just antsy because he’s antsy about coming out to his dad, and it’s splashing on everything else, and M.D.’s just cynical because… well, the only family she’s got besides him and Raige that isn’t crazy, evil, or gone is a talking cat.
Thomas’s family isn’t like that. His family is sane, unshakeable. They were okay with him when he turned his kindergarten teacher into a cobra by accident, they were okay with him when he came back after a year and a half missing in another dimension. Surely they’ll be okay with him having a boyfriend and a girlfriend at the same time. That’s nothing.
But still. There’s just that tiny twinge, that nagging worry, what if…
He shoves it back. See, this is why he needs to get it over with. The longer he waits, the more he’ll think about it, and the more he’ll agonize about it.
Re: Coming out to the family Rodriguez (part 2)
Date: 2012-02-25 12:46 am (UTC)He’s in luck; his older brother Marcus has time off deployment in a couple weeks, so Thomas puts his head down and clocks in some overtime to keep himself busy till then. Finally, Marcus makes it in, Christopher tears himself away from his N64, his mom isn’t on the beat, and his dad comes home from work. This is a once-a-year event, so Thomas takes advantage of it before any of them can find something they need to do, sits them all down and says they have to talk.
Little brother Christopher whines about it, of course, but Ma gives him a look and he shuts up. They all sit down, fidgeting with their hands in their laps, staring at the family photos on the wall. Thomas has always been the clown of the family; a serious talk like this, they probably fear the worst.
Thomas figures he might as well come clean right off, so he does. “I’m dating M.D. and Raige now. Thought you’d want to know. Any questions?”
For a few seconds, there is complete, flabbergasted silence. Then his dad slumps against the armchair, clutches his chest, and says, “Praise Mary. I worried you were sick or something.”
“I was guessing he got someone pregnant, myself,” Marcus says.
“Too obvious,” Ma says immediately, but then she squints at him suspiciously. “You haven’t, have you?”
“Ma!”
“Because I know you, mijo, I don’t want you caught with your pants down and your pockets empty just because—”
“Ma! Nobody’s pregnant—Jesus, how could they be, M.D.’s from outer space—”
“That’s no reason to get full of yourself. She works with sick people all day,” Ma warns. “God only knows what she could pass on to you.”
“Just because she’s a super-soldier from another planet doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful, mijo,” his father says gravely.
“Yeah, and the other one’s a guy, now stop acting like it’s funny!” Christopher shrieks.
This whole time, Marcus looks like he’s been choking down laughter, but that makes him crack up good and proper. “I love this family,” he declares.
That just pisses Christopher off more. “Will y’all stop acting like this is normal? Bad enough you turned Ms. Whatshername into a snake back when I was three, people still haven’t let me forget that, no, now you’re… I don’t even know what you’re doing.”
Thomas leers. “Do you really want to know?”
“No! God, you’re such a freak.” And he gets up and stalks out. Nobody stops him.
Marcus straightens up, and his face is serious again. “Hey, don’t listen to Christopher, he’s fifteen. Let him cool off and calm down, you know how he gets.”
“Yeah, I know,” Thomas says, trying to play at being casual. “No big deal.”
Apparently Marcus can still tell he’s a bit rattled, because he leans over and shakes Thomas’s hand, like they’re both adults. “Congratulations, bro.”
Thomas feels his shoulders relax. “Thanks, man.”
Ma and Dad stay quiet. Ma has her arms crossed and brow furrowed, lips thin; she’s obviously not happy. Dad is more composed, but he rarely ever looks upset, and he jokes like the rest of them to clear the air, so that doesn’t mean much. Thomas waits and tries to look as calm as his dad. It’s no big deal, he tells himself. If they take it bad, he can shack up with M.D. for a while, do work in Treehouse. Nothing he hasn’t done before, nothing to lose, nothing to worry over. Everything will turn out okay in the end; it always does. Life loves him too much to give him something he can’t handle.
He braces his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands so nobody will notice they’re shaking.
Then his dad gets up and hugs him with a warm smile, and his mother sighs and says, “You always were the maverick in the family. So how exactly did this happen?”
And he knows everything will be fine.
Re: Coming out to the family Rodriguez (part 3)
Date: 2012-02-25 12:46 am (UTC)Thomas knocks. “Hey, little man. You in?”
Silence for a while, and he thinks maybe Christopher is going to ignore him. Then, “yeah, whatever.”
Thomas comes in. Christopher is sitting on his bed, N64 controller in his hands. The reflected glow of the TV screen renders the lenses of his glasses almost opaque.
Thomas leans against the doorway. “You wanna turn the game off for a second?”
With every air of reluctance, Christopher reaches over and flicks off the power switch. “You gonna come give me crap now?”
“Nah,” Thomas says. “You already know you acted like a turd.”
Christopher glares at him, but he looks like he’s blinking back tears behind his glasses. “You never said, man. You’re freaking gay this whole time, and you never tell me? What the hell?”
“I’m not gay,” Thomas says. “I’m bi, I guess. And it never came up before this.”
“So… what? You need one of both to keep happy now?”
Thomas sighs and comes over to sit next to Christopher on the bed. “No. That was actually an accident. I didn’t even ask them out, they asked me.”
“What? At the same time?”
Thomas nods.
“How does that even work?”
Thomas shrugs and shifts uncomfortably. He’s the charmer of the group, the smooth talker, but he’s lousy for explanations. He doesn’t have M.D.’s intellect, or Raige’s empathy. As it is, all he can say is, “Well, you know. I’m both you and Marcus’s brother, and it’s not a big deal.”
“Not the same thing, man. Not the same at all.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t cheat on family.”
“I’m not cheating on them either,” Thomas goes. “We’re all in it together. Everyone knows, everyone talks. It’s not like we’re all lying to each other.”
“Doesn’t it freak you out? That maybe they do stuff without you?”
Thomas tilts his head, thinks it over. “Nah. I mean, Marcus does all sorts of stuff overseas, and that doesn’t freak me out. He always comes back home. And… Jeez, man, have you met Raige? He couldn’t hurt somebody if you set a rabid dog on him.”
“What if it bothers you? What if you get sick of sharing?”
“Easy. I stop dating them.”
Christopher is silent for a while. “You should’ve told me,” he says. “Jesus, man, I even knew something was up, you were looking like something was bugging you for weeks, and here I thought it was just studying for your GED and stuff, but no, you were hiding this from us.”
“I wanted to wait till Marcus was back. Tell all of you in a go.”
“Yeah, well, don’t do that. Jesus. Makes me feel like I don’t count or something.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
Christopher sniffs, then nods a couple times.
“Okay. For that, I guess I’m okay with you being a pervert then.”
“Oh, like that’s anything new,” Thomas retorts.
Re: Prompts
Date: 2012-04-30 11:19 pm (UTC)Re: Prompts
Date: 2012-05-01 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 06:19 pm (UTC)-Like 3 friends of mine who share a home and intend to adopt a child together but just happen to be a man, his ex-wife, and her soon-to-be-second-husband.
-Of another household I know of that contains a married couple, their best friend, and the married couple's two children.
-Or someone else I know who's chosen-sister just happens to be on the opposite side of an ocean. But they're still there for each other, all the time, every day, participating in each other's lives as best they can despite distance.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-11 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-30 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 07:42 pm (UTC)For Science!
Date: 2012-02-15 02:39 am (UTC)Elisa collected Nikola Tesla merchandise. Action figures, movies, comics, sci-fi novels... if it had Tesla in it, she had it. For eight years running, she had dressed up as the genius every Halloween, each time showcasing a different one of his achievements. (Her homemade Death Ray, hung up with a simple 'Under Construction' sign, was a hit at all the parties.)
Niqolette was a budding biologist, slogging her way through her college debts as a lab tech under a racist boss. She also had a thing for pretty boys dressed as girls and vice versa.
They met at a Halloween party three years ago. Niqolette was dressed up as Charles Darwin, complete with Medusian beard. Elisa... well, she was Tesla, of course, with a real working Tesla coil this time a round.
For the first hour, they kept character and discussed the breeding habits of pigeons, Queen Victoria, and Thomas Edison (the cad). There was much stroking of false facial hair, sage nodding, and of course, demonstrations of the Tesla coil. (There was a reason Elisa got invited to all the best parties.)
In the second hour, they talked physics and biology. As they got more and more interested, they broke role until Niqolette was complaining about her job in language Darwin never would've approved of, and Elisa was sharing tips on spirit gum.
By the third hour, the party was starting to break up, and Niqolette and Elisa were still at it. Niqolette was bragging about her expansive collection of zombie movies; Elisa was lamenting the sad lack of Tesla in cinema.
“I've got a Tesla movie,” Niqolette said.
“The Prestige and Sanctuary? Already got them.”
“Oh no, you haven't got this one.”
Elisa's ears pricked. “What makes you so sure?”
“It's an amateur production from my old college. It's, uh...” She looked away and rubbed the back of her neck. “It's a steampunk zombie porno, actually.”
Silence.
“I was just an extra, plain old flesh-eating zombie henchman for Zombie Tesla, I can't act for--”
“I'd like to see it.”
“Yeah?”
“At your place.”
That was three years ago. You'll still see them now; just go to any Halloween party and look for Tesla.
Re: For Science!
Date: 2012-02-19 08:50 pm (UTC)Re: For Science!
Date: 2012-02-20 04:06 am (UTC)Mac: I APPROVE OF YOUR SUPERPLAID! :D
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 08:07 pm (UTC)City Girl
Date: 2012-02-15 01:57 am (UTC)They're noisy, pushy, and territorial, and she's no exception. There are individuals she can stand for limited durations, even like—but only at a distance. In her mind, the ideal relationship between humans is the one she has with the guy down the hall: she leaves him alone and he leaves her alone, unless they need something. Clean. Simple. Straightforward.
Bertelli needs space, a place to call her own. She'd be happy with her own apartment, but no, she's got a whole city. Not just any city either, the city. Her city, where she's lived all her life.
Her city is solid. Reliable. Concrete in the way that only roads and masonry, brick and asphalt can be. Its streets are as good as the blood in her veins, its business rhythms the beat of her heart. Sure, mayors come and go, buildings rise and fall, but only enough to keep it interesting. Not enough to shake the stability. Not like people.
Her city is a provider. Not just of food, power, and gas, but of safety, of home. For fifty years, she's wandered these streets. How many times as a girl, a young woman, did people throw her out, fall away, turn their backs on her? But not her city. Her city has always been there, waiting to embrace her with its concrete arms and neon heart. For her, the city is always open, always ready with an abandoned building, forgotten food, warm subways in winter and a shadowy overpass in summer. Maybe it couldn't give her riches, but it gave her what it had, and that was enough.
Her city may look rough—the crumbling buildings, the gangs, the raucous parties—but with her, it's gentle. Nobody hurts her, and nobody turns her away; she's the queen of the streets, and everyone has needed her at some point, down in the gutter. They've needed her squats, her power, her home repair, her connections. She will never be rich, but nobody wants to ruin her now. The city will crush anyone who tries.
Her city has never beat her, screamed at her, thrown her out, or left her to starve. Her city has always been there for her, protecting her, feeding her.
Frances Bertelli hates people, but she loves her city. And her city loves her back.
Re: City Girl
Date: 2014-03-10 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 09:28 pm (UTC)The First Mythic War! (part one)
Date: 2012-03-03 02:58 am (UTC)Captain Crankshaft and Roboat had been part of the Navy, of course. Crankshaft's title wasn't purely decorative; he was a decorated veteran of the Steam/Cyberpunk war a few years earlier, and Roboat was a mechanical quinquereme in the Punic style, good on the water but new to the battlefield. It needed tactical direction, and Captain Crankshaft needed a ship. (His had been sunk early in the proceedings by a thunderbolt.)
Together, they served with distinction, a massive warship crewed by two. The Romans had their own warships, of course, but human oarsmen couldn't react as quickly as Roboat's engines. The Romans, no fools, knew Roboat's primary weakness was its captain and attempted to attach themselves to the ship to overrun it, but Crankshaft knew his military history and had no intention of reenacting the First Punic War. Besides, he and Roboat had a chronological advantage: a Tesla cannon. (Tesla was one of the Seculars' greatest unsung inventors.) It was a rout.
There were a few tight spots, of course. The Tesla cannon required an inordinate amount of Roboat's power, making it cumbersome to use, and it was strictly short-range, requiring a ram-and-run approach. The Romans greatly disapproved of the guerilla tactics, and they expressed it militantly. Crankshaft lost a leg to a Roman sword, and Roboat needed repairs constantly. They were despised and reviled, loathed and hated.
They were in love.
It'd been an accident. Cupid or Eros (who could ever tell them apart?) had gotten involved in the naval battle, shooting arrows from a distance. (Gods, of course, were immortal, but that didn't mean getting hit with a Tesla cannon was pleasant to them.) He was aiming for Crankshaft but at the last minute, Crankshaft's peg leg skidded against the deck. Still unused to the prosthetic, the captain stumbled, and the arrow sunk into Roboat's deck. Crankshaft hesitated to ask, “Are you--?” and Roboat declared through its speaking tubes, “Fine! I'm fine! Achaeans on the port bow!”
Turned out robots could lie too. Just not very well.
The battle ended with Roboat and Crankshaft hastily retreating into the deep water. Though for short distances, Roboat's speed was comparable to human rowers, it never tired, and could maintain it longer. Once they were a safe distance away, Crankshaft stumped below decks to make repairs and assess damages.
“Where were Captains Ahab and Nemo?” Crankshaft grumbled as he hammered a dent out of Roboat's hull. “I thought Uhura said they'd be there by now.”
“I received a transmission from Lieutenant Uhura during the battle,” Roboat replied absently. “Seems they got tangled up with a whale and a squid.”
Crankshaft rolled his eyes. “Oh aye, in the Mediterranean, no doubt. Damned literaries, you'd think they'd bloody well move on after a hundred years...”
“Quite,” Roboat said, but its speaking tubes seemed to lack vigor.
“Here now, that arrow had me worried,” Crankshaft said. “The gods are wretched blaggards, but they shoot straight. Eros does hate too, eh? I--”
“Don't worry,” Roboat said awkwardly. “It... wasn't that kind.”
Crankshaft paused, hammer in hand.
“Don't worry about it,” Roboat urged. “I don't think it worked as well on my systems as it would've on yours, and there are far more pressing things than my sudden infatuation with you. It'll pass.”
Captain Crankshaft hesitated. He'd never been a romantic fellow, but combat made fast friends, and Roboat was a good entity. “If there's anything I can do...” he started awkwardly.
“Well... if you could hammer a bit to the right—ah! Yes, that's better, thank you.”
Re: The First Mythic War! (part two)
Date: 2012-03-03 02:58 am (UTC)And thus the war continued. Certainly things were a little awkward—suddenly it seems a little... intimate to mess about with Roboat's engine—but self-preservation was a good distraction. Crankshaft never forgot Roboat's situation, but he did grow to accept it. As for Roboat itself, it never spoke about it, but it became a fury on the aquatic battlefield, a demon of churning oars and sparking cannon. After all, it wasn't just fighting for itself and Secular ideals anymore; it was fighting for someone it loved too.
On the whole, the situation was politely ignored until one fateful day when the Roman fleet herded them straight towards Scylla and Charybdis. Roboat was faster over distance, but not nearly enough to duck the herd, and as they headed towards the proverbial rock and a hard place, it looked that their days were done.
“It has been an honor to serve you, Cap'n,” Roboat said, in the odd disjointed voice it got when it was sparing power to row.
Captain Crankshaft stood very straight on the bow, watching the dread choice loom closer and closer. “Roboat, I haven't been completely honest with ye.”
“Captain?”
“I've loved you since the moment I set foot on ye. You're a marvelous boat, and a fine mechanical person.”
Roboat was threshing through the water at full speed, so couldn't spare much steam for its tubes, but its voice blared. “And you never said?”
“I'm not an emotive man,” Crankshaft gruffed. “I've lost too many loves to the battlefield. I... just wanted ye to know. In case we don't survive. Now, can you outpace Charybdis?”
“I don't know; it's in full strength. And I can't spare power for the cannon.”
“We'll take Scylla then. And forget the cannon; the beastie's got five more heads. We'll just have to try and outrun it. At the worst, at least we'll die a proper death together. Maybe ye can choke the damned thing.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
That was all the time they had. Roboat needed all its power for speed, and Crankshaft had to bolt below decks to man the boilers.
Roboat never pushed itself so hard. Its pipes screamed. The heat warped pipes, burnt Crankshaft's skin as he frantically shoveled coal. Warning klaxons wailed. Rivets burst.
Scylla only got time to tear out two chunks of hull as they shot by.
They didn't have time to celebrate. The Romans were behind, forced to navigate around their own monsters, but that wouldn't stop them long, and Roboat was taking on water fast, a quarter of its mechanical oars dragging uselessly due to burst pipes. Crankshaft bolted back and forth, alternately bailing and repairing. Roboat rowed on, too battered to even spare the steam to speak.
“Well done, you marvel,” Crankshaft bellowed as he welded and waded. “Truly no beastie on earth can rival you!”
Roboat could not speak, but its engines thrummed weakly.
They fled until dusk, repaired until dawn, and by noon, they were married.
If Eros disapproved, he never let on.
Re: The First Mythic War! (part two)
Date: 2012-03-03 03:24 am (UTC)Limited Warranty
Date: 2012-02-21 02:41 am (UTC)There were plenty of patchers with Megacorp, patchers from better schools with higher honors, but none of them worked with the cyborgs like Gwyneth.
Mike05 would go to no one else, given any choice in the matter. He was part of the UCCT 22nd Brikt Regiment—the cannon fodder used to keep the damage away from the more important regiments. The Brikt line of manufacture made for cyborgs who were sponges for damage, but rife with minor bugs, and Mike05 was no exception. His vocal synthesizer never did work properly, and he still had issues with the sensory grafts going out on him, leaving him numb and neuropathic.
Most of the patchers hated dealing with the Brikts, and vice versa. None of them ever bothered to learn “that damned hand-flapping” and would complain that the Brikts were being uncommunicative on purpose, when 97% had fatal vocal synthesizer errors and 48% had auditory issues. Mike05 didn't have problems with his auditory graft, could write perfectly well, but the patchers didn't see him as any great communicator. Really, the question, “What hurts?” was infuriatingly vague. He had sensory grafts poorly wedded to his entire nervous system. EVERYTHING hurt, or tingled, or burned, or felt absolutely nothing at all no matter how damaged, and he could no longer differentiate what was significant. But none of the patchers ever seemed to believe that.
Except Gwyneth. Gwyneth, with the soft touch and the scarred hands, the broad lips and those green gray eyes that could swallow someone whole. Who was completely at ease among the hulking, augmented, signing Brikts—perhaps because of her own appearance. Cyborgs, being who they were, tended to be unfazed by scars. The only difference was that hers weren't from grafts. He didn't know what they were from; she never said, and he never asked.
They'd been with the 22nd fifteen years now, in the active roster for eight, and Mike05 had ended up under her care more times than he could remember. This time, it was a blown pump in his shoulder. With her gentle patchwork hands, Gwyneth, uncoupled the sensory graft connection and began to replace to warped piston.
“I've never seen one go like that,” she signed—she could speak, of course, and most of the Brikts weren't deaf, but she never did.
“I'm past my warranty,” he signed ruefully. “We Brikts, they only designed us to last a decade. They figured I'd get scrapped in the first charge.”
“You're too good for that,” she replied with her crooked smile, and mimed an affection punch to the shoulder she wasn't working on. Then she got a better look at the exposed tubing in the joint, and her expression sobered. “Your tubing's going.”
Mike05 couldn't shrug with his shoulder uncoupled, so he looked away. “You can't replace that stuff. I'll just be a bit leaky is all. I keep good track of my coolant; it won't be a problem.”
The grafts itched and burned and throbbed where they were bound to severed nerves, but under Gwyneth's hands, they calmed and cooled. “I wish I could fix it. All of it.”
Mike05 touched her cheek, pushed a lock of her rough hair behind the ear she had left. “Don't we all.”
“Limited warranty.”
“It's all limited warranty.”
And she replaced the piston, recoupled his shoulder, ran a ragged hand down his arm, and sent him back to the front line. Like they always did. Like they always had to do, and like they always would have to do, until the corporate war was over.
Or until their warranty gave out. Whichever came first.
Re: Limited Warranty
Date: 2012-02-23 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 09:25 pm (UTC)And romantic maybe even pornographic between myself and my sc. I am willing to leave LOTS to your fertile imagination but if you need te actual facts, write to me. :) No one says it has to be what or wo we really are, or anyting that did or didn't happen.. just happy, please?
no subject
Date: 2012-02-23 03:20 pm (UTC)--Rogan
this took a few days to agree on, sorry!
Date: 2012-02-10 03:29 pm (UTC)Yes this is a broad, broad prompt, but we want to see what you're going to do with it.
A Fiery Orgy of Wormflesh 1/2
Date: 2012-04-21 03:59 am (UTC)Red swore quietly in Westie, but otherwise, his grim soldier's face remained impassive, but Shenda laughed through her tears—not from grief, but from the smoke—and said that she had to give the gods credit; she always figured it'd be the war what killed them, not a fiery orgy of wormflesh. And Red snorted and took her hand and Shenda thought that if she had to die ridiculously, at least it'd be with good company.
And then, over the roar of brushfire, she heard the crack of thunder.
That was all the warning they got before the water hurled itself out of the sky. The soil, brittle and loose from the drought, came up under Shenda's feet like the earth itself was shedding its skin, and she clung to Red around the middle to keep from falling.
Not much could get the attention of a gas worm in heat, but that did the job. With a slithering lurch, they disengaged and burrowed back into the ground, leaving smoldering scrub, billowing smoke, and two very wet pilgrim-herders. The downpour halted as suddenly as it'd started, leaving the ground cloaked in smoke and steam.
“Hello? Is someone there?” A voice called.
Red was busy shaking the water off his back, but Shenda said, “Just us two.”
Out of the wreaths of mist darted a figure dressed in the blue gown of a dowser. “Mercy! I must apologize, I didn't realize there was anyone but gas worms out here!”
“There wouldn't have been for much longer, you hadn't shown up,” Red said. “I'm Redrick, and this is my wife Shenda.”
That was the first thing that got Shenda's attention. Red didn't do introductions. Most of the time, he let Shenda do the talking, self-conscious of the Westie accent that he'd never managed to shake.
The dowser exchanged bows with them, in a style Shenda didn't recognize, but she now got a good look at the stranger's broad-brimmed wicker hat.
“Oh!” She said. “You're a follower of Lujow.”
A Fiery Orgy of Wormflesh 2/2
Date: 2012-04-21 04:00 am (UTC)The dowser hesitated. “Is that an issue?”
“No, no,” Shenda hastened to say. “You just don't see much of them in these parts.”
She saw Redrick's brow furrow inquiringly. She took and squeezed his hand to reassure him she'd explain later, and also to keep him from asking a well-meaning but rude question. “What do we call you, dowser?” She already knew, from the hat, but no need to let on she could read and Red couldn't.
“Wen, if you please. And it's just 'understudy,' for now. I'm finishing my education under Waishin in Laripa.” Laripa was the nearest town, scratching rice and money out of the arid steppe. As for Waishin... well, she'd been a great dowser once. Now the water you could wring out of her was less than the wine.
“Earning your pay, for sure,” Red said. Shenda glanced up, surprised. Red wasn't free with his compliments. “Our thanks, understudy.”
Wen didn't bow so much as sweep. “My duty and pleasure. My intention was only to keep down the brushfire but I'm glad to have assisted you. Please, stop by and visit me in Laripa sometime.”
“We may at that,” Shenda said, giving Red a knowing squeeze.
With a tip of the hat and a swirl of robes, Wen turned and headed towards Laripa, presumably to resume more mundane duties. Red watched, and Shenda nudged him.
“Someone has a liking for the understudy,” she said, and smiled when Red's dark skin darkened further. “It's fine. It's me you're married to.”
Red didn't confess directly, but he never did. “What's Lujow?”
“It's a who, not a what.” She watched Wen's silhouette fade into the steam. “Founded some cult over back east with some crazy ideas about 'boy' and 'girl' meaning whatever you want. You can tell them by their titles always being written on their hats. Bunch of cranks, but,” she looked up at the sky, where the clouds were clearing, “I'll give them this, they do put out good dowsers.”
no subject
Date: 2025-03-10 04:33 pm (UTC)