2 Fics: Why, Hello/Agape
Wrote two this week, one is a wish submit and one is the one I would have actually submitted.
Actual:
Title: Why, Hello.
Characters: Jack, Suzie, Owen, Personification victim ahoy.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Author's Notes: Written utilising the writerinadrawer prompt 4.2: Someone is woken from their sleep by a strange or unexpected sound. Include: Two words in any foreign language(s). Thanks to cruentum for the beta sparkles.
Darkness looks like licorice rivers, smells like the absence of clean, the absence of dirt. It tastes like wet-dry. It's not even darkness, where light would refuse to show and blinking creates a splash of brightness behind the eyelids. It's the unpeeling of egg yolk in a shell. It's the blanketed soundless explosion of a ship in space.
Sluicing through the water it goes, snared by a net, dragged by the twined ropes, rough and sturdy as the interlaced fingers of a fisherman. Travelling in this manner is a rocking motion, like dripping water on the cheek of a sleeping person, forcing them to turn over onto their side.
The sudden scrape on the surface, wire on brushed steel, metal-grinding drills, snaps it into being, a switch thrown, a reverberation that runs from wrist to fingertips. A small hum starts, unheard, a machine looking for a generator, a vacuum searching for a suction. The mewling is drowned out by other noise.
"Well, it certainly isn't going to win any fashion contests."
"Nonsense, Jack. I'm sure it was the height of fashion back in the day."
"What day? Fifteen sixty-three?"
"More like twelve sixty-three, actually."
"Right. I don't see it going down the runway in Milan."
"You obviously haven't seen haute couture shows in Paris recently, then."
"Suzie, the man wears braces and a belt, he hasn't seen-"
"Owen, might I remind you that I sign your paycheques?"
"It's a sign of how behind the times you are that you forgot we use direct deposit."
"Zip it. Suzie, is that thing clean yet?"
The scraping ceases and there is movement for the first time in years, in decades, in forevers. The sensors all come online when a hand slips inside it.
"Clean as a whistle, Jack. Fits like a glove."
Ah.
END
And the wish submission what doesn't fit because I gave up trying to do the waking thing when I realised that this wasn't the submission:
Title: Agape
Characters: :D (Suzie/Rizen Mitten)
Rating: R
Wordcount: 300
Author's Notes: Written utilising the writerinadrawer prompt 4.2: Someone is woken from their sleep by a strange or unexpected sound. Include: Two words in any foreign language(s). Did the foreign language, skipped the wake up thing. Unbetaed. One line of Biblical cribbing oh-ho.
Here's the deal, ma petite chou: you know that what you're doing is less than right. It's dark and slippery like the inside of an undisturbed water trough, ropes of disease and transparent organisms desperate to pull you down to sickness.
Oh selective reasoning, Suziekins. It means that things can mean whatever you want them to mean. It means that things revolve around your intention, and if you have decided that your intention is perfect, a flawless jewel set in your head like a crown, then you can inherit so many precious things.
I have come from the deep, from the fathoms, drowned on soil and saltwater, drugged by eddies and algae and scum, drifting, sedate, asleep. I have come with my plated fingers flexing life. I have come with my siren full-tilt boogie, baby.
When your hand grasps my inside, wrist snapping sharp like the way you finger yourself in the night, pads skidding across skin as your pulse quickens and your breath stutters in like saw teeth struggling for purchase in the grain, I am longing for you. I am waiting for you to finally steal all the way inside me, to make that final dip into the very core of me every time you bring something back to life, because then, and only then, can I finish slipping inside of you.
Do not think that I have come to abolish the law of death or of its prophets; I have not come to abolish them, but to fulfill them. Oh look, see this here, against your skin, a cleansing burn, a cold metal, a kiss I offer like a fairy tale that will suck you back to sleep even as I wake and greet your planet, a freshly shucked oyster that I can slide down my gullet.
END
Actual:
Title: Why, Hello.
Characters: Jack, Suzie, Owen, Personification victim ahoy.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Author's Notes: Written utilising the writerinadrawer prompt 4.2: Someone is woken from their sleep by a strange or unexpected sound. Include: Two words in any foreign language(s). Thanks to cruentum for the beta sparkles.
Darkness looks like licorice rivers, smells like the absence of clean, the absence of dirt. It tastes like wet-dry. It's not even darkness, where light would refuse to show and blinking creates a splash of brightness behind the eyelids. It's the unpeeling of egg yolk in a shell. It's the blanketed soundless explosion of a ship in space.
Sluicing through the water it goes, snared by a net, dragged by the twined ropes, rough and sturdy as the interlaced fingers of a fisherman. Travelling in this manner is a rocking motion, like dripping water on the cheek of a sleeping person, forcing them to turn over onto their side.
The sudden scrape on the surface, wire on brushed steel, metal-grinding drills, snaps it into being, a switch thrown, a reverberation that runs from wrist to fingertips. A small hum starts, unheard, a machine looking for a generator, a vacuum searching for a suction. The mewling is drowned out by other noise.
"Well, it certainly isn't going to win any fashion contests."
"Nonsense, Jack. I'm sure it was the height of fashion back in the day."
"What day? Fifteen sixty-three?"
"More like twelve sixty-three, actually."
"Right. I don't see it going down the runway in Milan."
"You obviously haven't seen haute couture shows in Paris recently, then."
"Suzie, the man wears braces and a belt, he hasn't seen-"
"Owen, might I remind you that I sign your paycheques?"
"It's a sign of how behind the times you are that you forgot we use direct deposit."
"Zip it. Suzie, is that thing clean yet?"
The scraping ceases and there is movement for the first time in years, in decades, in forevers. The sensors all come online when a hand slips inside it.
"Clean as a whistle, Jack. Fits like a glove."
Ah.
END
And the wish submission what doesn't fit because I gave up trying to do the waking thing when I realised that this wasn't the submission:
Title: Agape
Characters: :D (Suzie/Rizen Mitten)
Rating: R
Wordcount: 300
Author's Notes: Written utilising the writerinadrawer prompt 4.2: Someone is woken from their sleep by a strange or unexpected sound. Include: Two words in any foreign language(s). Did the foreign language, skipped the wake up thing. Unbetaed. One line of Biblical cribbing oh-ho.
Here's the deal, ma petite chou: you know that what you're doing is less than right. It's dark and slippery like the inside of an undisturbed water trough, ropes of disease and transparent organisms desperate to pull you down to sickness.
Oh selective reasoning, Suziekins. It means that things can mean whatever you want them to mean. It means that things revolve around your intention, and if you have decided that your intention is perfect, a flawless jewel set in your head like a crown, then you can inherit so many precious things.
I have come from the deep, from the fathoms, drowned on soil and saltwater, drugged by eddies and algae and scum, drifting, sedate, asleep. I have come with my plated fingers flexing life. I have come with my siren full-tilt boogie, baby.
When your hand grasps my inside, wrist snapping sharp like the way you finger yourself in the night, pads skidding across skin as your pulse quickens and your breath stutters in like saw teeth struggling for purchase in the grain, I am longing for you. I am waiting for you to finally steal all the way inside me, to make that final dip into the very core of me every time you bring something back to life, because then, and only then, can I finish slipping inside of you.
Do not think that I have come to abolish the law of death or of its prophets; I have not come to abolish them, but to fulfill them. Oh look, see this here, against your skin, a cleansing burn, a cold metal, a kiss I offer like a fairy tale that will suck you back to sleep even as I wake and greet your planet, a freshly shucked oyster that I can slide down my gullet.
END