Long lost fic... UNIVERSE MACHINE
So, I've made some progress on Universe Machine today. I don't know if anyone remembers it; I haven't written it in almost 2 years--a fact that blows my mind!
I've been writing every night for a few weeks now. Feels good to be back in the groove. Almost all of it has been poetry. For those of you interested, it can be found at my writing journal:
http://plumtreepoetess.livejournal.com/
Title: UNIVERSE MACHINE
Chapter:4a? Just sort of vague gestures at the 4th chapter...
Pairing(s): This chapter: Orlijah angsty pre-slash.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to themselves.
Rating: PG? Maybe...
Warnings: High school AU, religious and philosophical overtones.
a/n: So, this is really, really, really rough. I just am so happy to have made even this small amount of progress that I wanted to share. But much of it, particularly the dialogue, is way unfinished.
Youthful exuberance. That's one way to say what Orli was brimming with. He'd walked into the church's youth room with the wind at his back and the joy of a particularly good track meet shining beneath his skin. He hated to think that he was that shallow, but damn did he love winning! He shook his head, feeling a little humble for a moment, and then even more when he looked past the throng of permanent acquaintances and saw Elijah staring back at him with the strangest look in his eyes. Like he understood that he could not have the thing that he wanted most.
That look shook the smile off of Orlando's face. How he wished that Elijah was wrong, that Orli could be the one to make those eyes shine. But he knew: their parents would see them skinned first. His father was a rational man, a kind man, an understanding man, but when it came to Orlando's love life, Elijah could not be the other white meat. That was something his father wouldn't understand. Even if he put up with Orlando's affectionate nature, the handsy way he approached living, not distinguishing between the sexes. His father was capable of writing those things off as “spreading God's love”--at least one thing he and his son both agreed was a good thing. Even if they defined their terms a little differently.
For Orlando love and God were one in the same. He believed that the universe was built out of love/God and that charity and peace and kindness, the fruits of love/God would bring to a person such a radiant joy on which to build their life. To have that joy, all you have to do is open your eyes, look at a tree and see the individual leaves. In the leaf, see the veins the creases and all the details, down and down until you're looking at things on a cellular level almost, so that you can see the energy that makes up everything-like sand in your palm.
His dad, he knew, believed in the Trinity, in God's transcendent love and the sacrifice of his son, Jesus Christ, for our sins. When Orlando looked at his father's faith, though he respected it greatly, he always felt that it was legalistic and judgmental, that it wanted people to feel like nothing, like they deserved nothing and needed to be saved. As he's grown up, Orlando has come to realize that he doesn't believe in sin: he just doesn't. He doesn't believe that God would design us to be sinful and then punish us for sinning. Giving us a sin nature in the first place, placing them in the Garden, creating the snake...
Orlando shakes his head. He's not sure why Elijah Wood makes him think about the Garden of Eden. Or maybe he does know, but it doesn't matter; even more important than his dad's beliefs toward any potential there, there was the problem of Elijah's faith. Orlando winced at calling faith an obstacle, it made he feel like a pervert attempting to lure children into a van. Orlando bit his lip, hard enough to jolt his thoughts back on track. Elijah was not just some innocent child, but he was innocent, and he was young. Orlando knew for a fact that Elijah wasn't interested, anyway, so it was all moot. Even when their eyes simply met across the room and Orlando felt that spark, he could see Elijah already damning himself inside his head. Lost in castigation. Orlando knew that there was no hope, that to peruse any farther down this road would only lead to heart-wrenching pain. So why couldn't he help himself?
This is what was on his mind as he crossed the room to perch in the corner of a pool table, beside where Elijah sat doing homework, and nod in greeting to his friend, Elijah. Elijah, his friend. He nodded his head stubbornly to himself inside his head. (And wasn't that a danger sign or something?) So there, he thought, Take that.
He looked up to see Elijah fidgeting with his pen, flipping it back and forth thoughtlessly. Trying hard to be casual; Orlando bit back a smile.
-Getting settled into school okay?
-Yeah, just takes a little getting used to.
Orlando paused, breaking eye contact and focusing down toward his shoes.
-It must be weird to be the youngest in all your classes.
Elijah blushed a fraction and looked away.
-Not all my classes.
-You're right. Just the hard ones.
Orlando gave him his infuriating adorably, cheeky grin.
-Well, okay.
Elijah looked uncomfortable.
-Anyway, it's fine now.
-Had some trouble with the football team, did you? They're a little slow to adjust to the extra-brainy crowd.
-Go huskies... I can personally report that they're fit. Maybe we'll win state this year?
Orlando chuckled.
-Maybe so.
Beat-
-What about you? You're playing basketball again this year, right?
Orlando nods
-And baseball in the spring.
-that's cool.
There was an awkward moment then, where they'd sort of run out of small talk but neither wanted to stop talking to the other. Finally, Orlando took the plunge.
-So what do you think of Mortensen's class?
-We're supposed to call him Viggo.
-Yeah, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't want us to be constrained into some regimented, form of address. In fact, that's probably why he asked us to call him by his first name, I'd bet.
So what do you think of him?
...tbc...
I've been writing every night for a few weeks now. Feels good to be back in the groove. Almost all of it has been poetry. For those of you interested, it can be found at my writing journal:
http://plumtreepoetess.livejournal.com/
Title: UNIVERSE MACHINE
Chapter:4a? Just sort of vague gestures at the 4th chapter...
Pairing(s): This chapter: Orlijah angsty pre-slash.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to themselves.
Rating: PG? Maybe...
Warnings: High school AU, religious and philosophical overtones.
a/n: So, this is really, really, really rough. I just am so happy to have made even this small amount of progress that I wanted to share. But much of it, particularly the dialogue, is way unfinished.
Youthful exuberance. That's one way to say what Orli was brimming with. He'd walked into the church's youth room with the wind at his back and the joy of a particularly good track meet shining beneath his skin. He hated to think that he was that shallow, but damn did he love winning! He shook his head, feeling a little humble for a moment, and then even more when he looked past the throng of permanent acquaintances and saw Elijah staring back at him with the strangest look in his eyes. Like he understood that he could not have the thing that he wanted most.
That look shook the smile off of Orlando's face. How he wished that Elijah was wrong, that Orli could be the one to make those eyes shine. But he knew: their parents would see them skinned first. His father was a rational man, a kind man, an understanding man, but when it came to Orlando's love life, Elijah could not be the other white meat. That was something his father wouldn't understand. Even if he put up with Orlando's affectionate nature, the handsy way he approached living, not distinguishing between the sexes. His father was capable of writing those things off as “spreading God's love”--at least one thing he and his son both agreed was a good thing. Even if they defined their terms a little differently.
For Orlando love and God were one in the same. He believed that the universe was built out of love/God and that charity and peace and kindness, the fruits of love/God would bring to a person such a radiant joy on which to build their life. To have that joy, all you have to do is open your eyes, look at a tree and see the individual leaves. In the leaf, see the veins the creases and all the details, down and down until you're looking at things on a cellular level almost, so that you can see the energy that makes up everything-like sand in your palm.
His dad, he knew, believed in the Trinity, in God's transcendent love and the sacrifice of his son, Jesus Christ, for our sins. When Orlando looked at his father's faith, though he respected it greatly, he always felt that it was legalistic and judgmental, that it wanted people to feel like nothing, like they deserved nothing and needed to be saved. As he's grown up, Orlando has come to realize that he doesn't believe in sin: he just doesn't. He doesn't believe that God would design us to be sinful and then punish us for sinning. Giving us a sin nature in the first place, placing them in the Garden, creating the snake...
Orlando shakes his head. He's not sure why Elijah Wood makes him think about the Garden of Eden. Or maybe he does know, but it doesn't matter; even more important than his dad's beliefs toward any potential there, there was the problem of Elijah's faith. Orlando winced at calling faith an obstacle, it made he feel like a pervert attempting to lure children into a van. Orlando bit his lip, hard enough to jolt his thoughts back on track. Elijah was not just some innocent child, but he was innocent, and he was young. Orlando knew for a fact that Elijah wasn't interested, anyway, so it was all moot. Even when their eyes simply met across the room and Orlando felt that spark, he could see Elijah already damning himself inside his head. Lost in castigation. Orlando knew that there was no hope, that to peruse any farther down this road would only lead to heart-wrenching pain. So why couldn't he help himself?
This is what was on his mind as he crossed the room to perch in the corner of a pool table, beside where Elijah sat doing homework, and nod in greeting to his friend, Elijah. Elijah, his friend. He nodded his head stubbornly to himself inside his head. (And wasn't that a danger sign or something?) So there, he thought, Take that.
He looked up to see Elijah fidgeting with his pen, flipping it back and forth thoughtlessly. Trying hard to be casual; Orlando bit back a smile.
-Getting settled into school okay?
-Yeah, just takes a little getting used to.
Orlando paused, breaking eye contact and focusing down toward his shoes.
-It must be weird to be the youngest in all your classes.
Elijah blushed a fraction and looked away.
-Not all my classes.
-You're right. Just the hard ones.
Orlando gave him his infuriating adorably, cheeky grin.
-Well, okay.
Elijah looked uncomfortable.
-Anyway, it's fine now.
-Had some trouble with the football team, did you? They're a little slow to adjust to the extra-brainy crowd.
-Go huskies... I can personally report that they're fit. Maybe we'll win state this year?
Orlando chuckled.
-Maybe so.
Beat-
-What about you? You're playing basketball again this year, right?
Orlando nods
-And baseball in the spring.
-that's cool.
There was an awkward moment then, where they'd sort of run out of small talk but neither wanted to stop talking to the other. Finally, Orlando took the plunge.
-So what do you think of Mortensen's class?
-We're supposed to call him Viggo.
-Yeah, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't want us to be constrained into some regimented, form of address. In fact, that's probably why he asked us to call him by his first name, I'd bet.
So what do you think of him?
...tbc...