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in
grabi_hands
❄ december tenth | joy of man's desiring
title. joy of man's desiring
pairing. herman melville/nathaniel hawthorne (modern AU)
written for. obstinatrix
wordcount. 442
summary. herman uses internet terminology and nathaniel is confused.
I peered over the top of my laptop, puzzled. "What are you even talking about?"
"Nothing!" Herman was always like this, fidgety, and I can't count the number of times I've told him to calm down, to just talk, that it was fine. He treated me like some sort of god - a treatment I definitely did not deserve. "It's just a slang term. Nothing bad or anything."
I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to explain yourself any time this century?"
I always felt a little uneasy in Herman's presence. Not because I didn't like him - oh, far from that - but he was much younger and, in my opinion, so much more accomplished. He was, what, eighteen? Nineteen? And published already. He saw us both as equals and idolized me; which should not have been possible but it was. Anyway, a writer never really gets old. I keep telling myself that.
He sighed and worried his lip in nervousness. "All right. BNF- Big Name Fan. Which, obviously doesn't really apply since you're not a fan writer or anything, but. In our group, you might as well be."
I tried not to let my eyebrows make all sorts of disapproving gestures, but they didn't listen to me and I only felt sterner for the lack of control. Then I sighed. "Whatever you want to call it. There are acronyms for everything these days."
He leaned over into my armchair - alarming, even though he did it often enough, I should be used to it - and peered eagerly at my screen. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing that you're allowed to see yet." I snatched it out of the way, moved it safely onto the coffee table, but then it was just him, leaning, practically in my lap, and no sign of moving. I couldn't let him hear my heartbeat. Couldn't. It would give far too much away.
When I did not move, Herman slithered backwards into his own chair and tucked his feet up, went back to his own laptop and whatever online world he was plugged into these days. I watched him. The truth was, I wrote of sin and darkness because I knew it, intimately. He was out of my league, and I out of his, in that strange and different way that he, perversely, seemed determined to overcome.
Someday he will overcome his fear of your supposed 'greatness', and then, my dear, you will be in for it. You won't be able to resist. He's in your blood.
pairing. herman melville/nathaniel hawthorne (modern AU)
written for. obstinatrix
wordcount. 442
summary. herman uses internet terminology and nathaniel is confused.
I peered over the top of my laptop, puzzled. "What are you even talking about?"
"Nothing!" Herman was always like this, fidgety, and I can't count the number of times I've told him to calm down, to just talk, that it was fine. He treated me like some sort of god - a treatment I definitely did not deserve. "It's just a slang term. Nothing bad or anything."
I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to explain yourself any time this century?"
I always felt a little uneasy in Herman's presence. Not because I didn't like him - oh, far from that - but he was much younger and, in my opinion, so much more accomplished. He was, what, eighteen? Nineteen? And published already. He saw us both as equals and idolized me; which should not have been possible but it was. Anyway, a writer never really gets old. I keep telling myself that.
He sighed and worried his lip in nervousness. "All right. BNF- Big Name Fan. Which, obviously doesn't really apply since you're not a fan writer or anything, but. In our group, you might as well be."
I tried not to let my eyebrows make all sorts of disapproving gestures, but they didn't listen to me and I only felt sterner for the lack of control. Then I sighed. "Whatever you want to call it. There are acronyms for everything these days."
He leaned over into my armchair - alarming, even though he did it often enough, I should be used to it - and peered eagerly at my screen. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing that you're allowed to see yet." I snatched it out of the way, moved it safely onto the coffee table, but then it was just him, leaning, practically in my lap, and no sign of moving. I couldn't let him hear my heartbeat. Couldn't. It would give far too much away.
When I did not move, Herman slithered backwards into his own chair and tucked his feet up, went back to his own laptop and whatever online world he was plugged into these days. I watched him. The truth was, I wrote of sin and darkness because I knew it, intimately. He was out of my league, and I out of his, in that strange and different way that he, perversely, seemed determined to overcome.
Someday he will overcome his fear of your supposed 'greatness', and then, my dear, you will be in for it. You won't be able to resist. He's in your blood.