Life is like a box of belated Valentine's chocolates
RL's been doing me up the butt lately, and I haven't been doing much in the way of writing. I want to do stuff and things. I really, really do.
Indelicateink, these ones are for you!
Thanks so much for hosting the Valentine's challenge--lots of fabulous ideas there! (How did I end up twigging onto all your things as writeable?!?)
Here's my little box of assorted writing chocolates. They're discounted and slightly battered, but they're still made of deliciousness, I hope. (I didn't even make it to the love bits! There were love bits and romantic bits and sexy bits and everything, but I just...didn't get there. Sigh.)
Bonbon #1: Attorney!Sanzo wishes his secretary would stop flirting with his scummy clients.
The polite laughter from reception set Sanford right on edge. A little louder and a little deeper came the secretary's reply.
Honestly, Sanford reflected. Why on earth had he hired that idiot?
Julian Sanford, of Kipling, Ulrecht, and Sanford, was the junior partner and, despite a great deal of latitude from the seniors, was unlikely to have had the luxury of hiring his own secretary.
"Boss man!" called the grinning fool of an administrative assistant. "Your eleven's here."
Luxury? Hah. Whoever had hired this one was a sadist. (Sanford ground his teeth--it must have been Ulrecht.) He strode out to the front in a black cloud that, little gods willing, would translate itself to his idiot of a secretary.
Eleven o'clock was not guilty by reason of insanity, or so Sanford hoped.
He looked over one Henry Cooper, noted the clean, crisp clothing, a piercing green eye paired with a stark white bandage over the other, the steadiness of the hand held out for Sanford.
Cooper didn't look like a murderer. He also didn't look crazy. Sanford sighed. It was so much easier with clients who acted the part.
"Get in my office," said Sanford.
"Of course," said Cooper.
He ducked his head and slunk past.
"If they catch you acting like that--" said the secretary.
"And as for you, no more chatting up the clients," said Sanford. "Don't think I didn't hear you!"
The secretary grinned, white teeth flashing.
"Jealous?" he said."Mister Eleven doesn't seem like your type."
If his secretary were a dog, he would have been one of the little, yappy kinds that humped the legs of the furniture as soon as you turned your back, and sometimes even while you watched.
"That client is nobody's type," said Sanford. "Stay out of it or you're fired."
The secretary laughed until he cried, leaving Sanford wishing he'd just choke and die.
"Good luck with that," he said. "Kipling likes me."
Sanford felt a deep stab of helpless anger towards Kipling. That mild-mannered, ever-cheeful, betraying bastard picked this jackass? Kipling was like a father to him. An evil, evil father who apparently hired people on the basis of whether or not they would drive Sanford insane.
======
Bonbon #2 : Sci-fi Weiss; Omi keeps Nagi from crushing Neo-Tokyo with his amazing powers
The stupid, small people were afraid of what he'd do to their city.
They'd forgotten that he'd built the city nearly single-handedly. They had forgotten that, before there was a city, it had been a plain, and before the plain had been mountains, and before the mountains volcanoes spitting lava into the sky.
They hadn't forgotten the Conflict.
They remembered him as the Destroyer, the supreme military force against the Aspirons who had destroyed the rest of the system, the Construct made to save them all.
(There were only four Constructs left now, the very remains of his Order. There weren't even enough left to run a ship-- Strategist, Communicator, and Armory were all that were left. Propulsion had been so lively until the engines had been torn from the hull. He remembered the teal of her hair--it was the same shade as her blood.)
The small people remembered how he'd destroyed the ships and the armies. He'd dismantled them right down to the molecular level and molded them into the smoking core of a new planet. Even now, miles beneath his feet, the remains of the Aspirons swirled.
But how he had paid for those twin acts of destruction and creation. Oh, how he had paid. He had spent five years in a coma. He had given, for their sakes, had burned out certain capacities his body had. He would never grow beyond his cusp-of-adolescence body. His life expectancy was far shorter now, too-- he had given a hundred and fifty years for peace. (He tried not to think of the dwindling years ahead of him.)
The stupid, soft people were afraid for their city, when they ought to be afraid for their planet. They were thinking too small. He could finish the work the Aspirons had started fifty years ago and wipe out the entire civilization, and he wouldn't shed a tear for them. He could finally be free of them, free of all the maybes and somedays that could hurtle him into another Conflict.
====
Bonbon #3: Yohji is expensive; Crawford despairs.
"Four thousand dollars," said Crawford.
"I promise it will be worth it," said Schuldig.
"No," said Crawford. "Absolutely not."
"And yet your pet kitty-cat spends twice that much on clothing!" said Schuldig. "Surely half as much to get me out of your hair is a small price to pay."
"I am not paying four thousand dollars for you to get a fucking that you could just as easily get for free," said Crawford.
"Twins, Crawford," said Schuldig. "Twins. Ex-contortionist twins."
Crawford tried hard not to think about that.
"I could sell you out to the elders," said Schuldig.
"And your own freedom in the bargain," said Crawford. "If you did the calculations, you'd realize what a pittance four thousand dollars is compared to a lifetime without Eszett."
Of course Schuldig wasn't serious about it.
"But Yohji--"
"Yohji is depressingly expensive."
It was a good thing Yohji wasn't there to hear that.
"And yet you keep making excuses to see him. Maybe it's a Kritiker plot: take all our money and leave our leader too fucked out to do his job!"
=====
Bonbon #4 (this one's my very own): Omi discovers Nagi's secret and feels ridiculous about all the wasted effort. (In SPAAAACCE!)
It was the shock of Omi's career.
His nemeses--the rival team that had dogged them from day 1...were cats. For a second, this was the most salient point.
And then, this:
Omi had been flirting with a cat for eight months. Eight. Months.
He wanted to cry into his console.
On the other end of the vid call, a small, handsome, black cat purred in distress.
***
Nagi wasn't just a cat, damn it! He was telepathic, telekinetic, and a first rate hacker to boot. He was just as intelligent as any Terran! He was smart and funny and, frankly, had enjoyed the flirting. It could have even led to stroking, but Omi had to go and screw it all up.
=======
I've been sitting on these, hoping to get the chance to do more, but sharing is better than sitting, don't you agree? ^_^
~later
Indelicateink, these ones are for you!
Thanks so much for hosting the Valentine's challenge--lots of fabulous ideas there! (How did I end up twigging onto all your things as writeable?!?)
Here's my little box of assorted writing chocolates. They're discounted and slightly battered, but they're still made of deliciousness, I hope. (I didn't even make it to the love bits! There were love bits and romantic bits and sexy bits and everything, but I just...didn't get there. Sigh.)
Bonbon #1: Attorney!Sanzo wishes his secretary would stop flirting with his scummy clients.
The polite laughter from reception set Sanford right on edge. A little louder and a little deeper came the secretary's reply.
Honestly, Sanford reflected. Why on earth had he hired that idiot?
Julian Sanford, of Kipling, Ulrecht, and Sanford, was the junior partner and, despite a great deal of latitude from the seniors, was unlikely to have had the luxury of hiring his own secretary.
"Boss man!" called the grinning fool of an administrative assistant. "Your eleven's here."
Luxury? Hah. Whoever had hired this one was a sadist. (Sanford ground his teeth--it must have been Ulrecht.) He strode out to the front in a black cloud that, little gods willing, would translate itself to his idiot of a secretary.
Eleven o'clock was not guilty by reason of insanity, or so Sanford hoped.
He looked over one Henry Cooper, noted the clean, crisp clothing, a piercing green eye paired with a stark white bandage over the other, the steadiness of the hand held out for Sanford.
Cooper didn't look like a murderer. He also didn't look crazy. Sanford sighed. It was so much easier with clients who acted the part.
"Get in my office," said Sanford.
"Of course," said Cooper.
He ducked his head and slunk past.
"If they catch you acting like that--" said the secretary.
"And as for you, no more chatting up the clients," said Sanford. "Don't think I didn't hear you!"
The secretary grinned, white teeth flashing.
"Jealous?" he said."Mister Eleven doesn't seem like your type."
If his secretary were a dog, he would have been one of the little, yappy kinds that humped the legs of the furniture as soon as you turned your back, and sometimes even while you watched.
"That client is nobody's type," said Sanford. "Stay out of it or you're fired."
The secretary laughed until he cried, leaving Sanford wishing he'd just choke and die.
"Good luck with that," he said. "Kipling likes me."
Sanford felt a deep stab of helpless anger towards Kipling. That mild-mannered, ever-cheeful, betraying bastard picked this jackass? Kipling was like a father to him. An evil, evil father who apparently hired people on the basis of whether or not they would drive Sanford insane.
======
Bonbon #2 : Sci-fi Weiss; Omi keeps Nagi from crushing Neo-Tokyo with his amazing powers
The stupid, small people were afraid of what he'd do to their city.
They'd forgotten that he'd built the city nearly single-handedly. They had forgotten that, before there was a city, it had been a plain, and before the plain had been mountains, and before the mountains volcanoes spitting lava into the sky.
They hadn't forgotten the Conflict.
They remembered him as the Destroyer, the supreme military force against the Aspirons who had destroyed the rest of the system, the Construct made to save them all.
(There were only four Constructs left now, the very remains of his Order. There weren't even enough left to run a ship-- Strategist, Communicator, and Armory were all that were left. Propulsion had been so lively until the engines had been torn from the hull. He remembered the teal of her hair--it was the same shade as her blood.)
The small people remembered how he'd destroyed the ships and the armies. He'd dismantled them right down to the molecular level and molded them into the smoking core of a new planet. Even now, miles beneath his feet, the remains of the Aspirons swirled.
But how he had paid for those twin acts of destruction and creation. Oh, how he had paid. He had spent five years in a coma. He had given, for their sakes, had burned out certain capacities his body had. He would never grow beyond his cusp-of-adolescence body. His life expectancy was far shorter now, too-- he had given a hundred and fifty years for peace. (He tried not to think of the dwindling years ahead of him.)
The stupid, soft people were afraid for their city, when they ought to be afraid for their planet. They were thinking too small. He could finish the work the Aspirons had started fifty years ago and wipe out the entire civilization, and he wouldn't shed a tear for them. He could finally be free of them, free of all the maybes and somedays that could hurtle him into another Conflict.
====
Bonbon #3: Yohji is expensive; Crawford despairs.
"Four thousand dollars," said Crawford.
"I promise it will be worth it," said Schuldig.
"No," said Crawford. "Absolutely not."
"And yet your pet kitty-cat spends twice that much on clothing!" said Schuldig. "Surely half as much to get me out of your hair is a small price to pay."
"I am not paying four thousand dollars for you to get a fucking that you could just as easily get for free," said Crawford.
"Twins, Crawford," said Schuldig. "Twins. Ex-contortionist twins."
Crawford tried hard not to think about that.
"I could sell you out to the elders," said Schuldig.
"And your own freedom in the bargain," said Crawford. "If you did the calculations, you'd realize what a pittance four thousand dollars is compared to a lifetime without Eszett."
Of course Schuldig wasn't serious about it.
"But Yohji--"
"Yohji is depressingly expensive."
It was a good thing Yohji wasn't there to hear that.
"And yet you keep making excuses to see him. Maybe it's a Kritiker plot: take all our money and leave our leader too fucked out to do his job!"
=====
Bonbon #4 (this one's my very own): Omi discovers Nagi's secret and feels ridiculous about all the wasted effort. (In SPAAAACCE!)
It was the shock of Omi's career.
His nemeses--the rival team that had dogged them from day 1...were cats. For a second, this was the most salient point.
And then, this:
Omi had been flirting with a cat for eight months. Eight. Months.
He wanted to cry into his console.
On the other end of the vid call, a small, handsome, black cat purred in distress.
***
Nagi wasn't just a cat, damn it! He was telepathic, telekinetic, and a first rate hacker to boot. He was just as intelligent as any Terran! He was smart and funny and, frankly, had enjoyed the flirting. It could have even led to stroking, but Omi had to go and screw it all up.
=======
I've been sitting on these, hoping to get the chance to do more, but sharing is better than sitting, don't you agree? ^_^
~later