My muse has got to lay off the pixie stix
I'm going to Georgia tomorrow for my mom's birthday, and I can't get online too much there. I can check in, and I inevitably think of plot bunnies during the 4-hour drive.
Today, I wrote Angel/Fred.
Title: Up at the old hotel
Spoilers:Early season 3 AtS
Pairing: Angel/Fred
Rating: PG
Summary: Bet they did more than eat ice cream.
Scribble scribble scribble and Fred enjoys the smell of the
marker ink. It's a nice clean chemical smell and it reminds
her of Before, when she had new textbooks and pages and pages
of paper to write on, and classroom floors that shone.
//Make flats by rubbing unflat surfaces in triplicates together
and the flats then become flatter than the thing you started
with//
Only Angel has really looked at the walls of her room. The
other just brought tacos and sodas to her, and didn't come
inside. They couldn't see the writing from her door.
//the head of a pin is 1/16 inch x 25,000, then demagnify
by 25,000 = 80 angstroms dia. = 32 atoms across//
When Angel came back, he read it, said nothing,watched her as
she wrote more. Things change only in that the hotel is
not empty at night. Angel is there, when the others go home,
in the deep dark of night.
//no matter what you look at, if closely enough=entire universe//
She jumps down from the bed now and finds her blue marker,
steps back up, and considers what to write next, tracing
an invisible line with her fingertip.
"Not there," Angel murmurs, glancing over his shoulder
at her. "They'll be able to see it."
Fred shifts position, and thinks. "I'm out of room on your
back," she says. "Your legs are too hairy."
Angel considers, and turns under her onto his back.
Fred sits on his thighs and, humming, begins to write new
equations just below his collarbones.
Note:
The quotes are from Richard Feynman, "The Pleasure of Finding Things Out."
Inspired by an e-mail conversation with Scy.
Today, I wrote Angel/Fred.
Title: Up at the old hotel
Spoilers:Early season 3 AtS
Pairing: Angel/Fred
Rating: PG
Summary: Bet they did more than eat ice cream.
Scribble scribble scribble and Fred enjoys the smell of the
marker ink. It's a nice clean chemical smell and it reminds
her of Before, when she had new textbooks and pages and pages
of paper to write on, and classroom floors that shone.
//Make flats by rubbing unflat surfaces in triplicates together
and the flats then become flatter than the thing you started
with//
Only Angel has really looked at the walls of her room. The
other just brought tacos and sodas to her, and didn't come
inside. They couldn't see the writing from her door.
//the head of a pin is 1/16 inch x 25,000, then demagnify
by 25,000 = 80 angstroms dia. = 32 atoms across//
When Angel came back, he read it, said nothing,watched her as
she wrote more. Things change only in that the hotel is
not empty at night. Angel is there, when the others go home,
in the deep dark of night.
//no matter what you look at, if closely enough=entire universe//
She jumps down from the bed now and finds her blue marker,
steps back up, and considers what to write next, tracing
an invisible line with her fingertip.
"Not there," Angel murmurs, glancing over his shoulder
at her. "They'll be able to see it."
Fred shifts position, and thinks. "I'm out of room on your
back," she says. "Your legs are too hairy."
Angel considers, and turns under her onto his back.
Fred sits on his thighs and, humming, begins to write new
equations just below his collarbones.
Note:
The quotes are from Richard Feynman, "The Pleasure of Finding Things Out."
Inspired by an e-mail conversation with Scy.