(Untitled)

[mothersmucker]

Scott isn't really expecting anybody to show. If anybody does, it'll probably be students from class-- he offered 'em a whopping letter increase in their grade to bribe them, and of course the permanent esteem of their favorite professor into the bargain-- though it's possible some people might stumble in on a whim, lured by the promise of free

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[mothersmucker]

Somebody's gotta begin, right?

Scott eases out from behind the student desk and crosses the room, stopping to pluck a chocolate bar from the bowl, wiggling his brows suggestively at the room as he drops his prize into the breast pocket of his shirt. There's a book in his hand, Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman-- one of the best perks of the island is getting all these Books Of The Future; last things he'd read had been Sandman Midnight Theater and Good Omens, and he was waiting on an advance copy of Neverwhere when he got yoinked. He's planning on reading a poem to warm things up. He hops on top of the teacher's desk, sits down indian-style, and finds his place.

"All right, let's get started. This one's a poem by a fellow named Neil Gaiman. If you haven't heard of him, and you like it, I order you to take that black softcover over there--Smoke and Mirrors, it's called-- and devour it immediately, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. All right, nuff jabbering." And he starts

[curiously_cora]

Coraline did not in fact like Mister Gaiman. Nor ever wish to read or hear another word written by him in her entire life. He was, to Coraline at least, the second person she would least like to meet. The first of course being the Other Mother.

So when Mister Scott said that name and read those words she did what a child would do. She closed her eyes and she covered her ears and sat in silence. And waited for it to end.

"He's not very good, is he?" Coraline said simply. It was less of a question and more of a statement. "In fact I think he's a bad word. Lots of bad words. The kind that I would get into a lot of trouble for repeating. I don't think poetry is supposed to make you feel that."

[mothersmucker]

He didn't notice her reaction when he was reading-- he doesn't know how, he always looks for Coraline at these things-- but he didn't, or else he might've... what? Stopped? Doesn't matter, he guesses. But it takes less than a second for Scott's brain to put the pieces together once he sees Coraline walking up to him.

Oh, SHIT.

"Ah, well..." He wants to look anywhere but her big brown eyes but man, he can't. "I'm, ah, sorry you didn't like it." He scratches the back of his neck. Like he doesn't know why she hates it. Like she doesn't know he knows why she hates it.

What a smuckin' moron he is!

[curiously_cora]

"It's okay," Coraline said simply. People were going to read his books and people were going to see that awful movie. Coraline knew that and accepted it, she didn't have to like it however. "It's not like you wrote it. Why didn't you read your poems or things? I mean, I'm sure that they are much better than his."

[winged_cupid]

He's supposed to be good at this because hey, what's romance without a little poetry and so he's made his way to the front of the entire gathering, clearing his throat as he winks and generally turns on the charm. "Hi, I'm the god of love, some of you may remember me from falling in love for the first time or your horrible breakups in which you curse my name in vain. Don't worry, I don't take it personal," he guarantees, brushing off a wing. He draws out a small book from behind one of them. "Now, I know, I could write a sonnet and a dozen in my sleep, but that just ruins my mystique, so I'll read this Rilke poem for you called Love Song and all you little lovers out there can keep canoodling," he promises

[mothersmucker]

Turns out, Scott's the person sitting next to him, so when Cupid comes back to his seat, he leans over a little, not wanting to discourage the next reader.

"Hey, man," he says, the grin on his face threatening to sprain some muscles, "thanks for this. You lend poetry a kind of unbelievable air of credibility, you know?"

[winged_cupid]

Cupid hates chairs. You know? It's one thing to make them with firm backs, but it's another to ask a former-god with immobile wings to sit down in one and just be happy that he's got planks of wood shoved into private areas. "What can I say, I do my part for the sake of love," he announces dutifully, hand over his heart. "Someone has to while Mom's espousing sex."

[mothersmucker]

"Now all I have to do is get Hamlet in here for Soliloquy Night," he jokes-- he's pretty sure they don't have a Hamlet here. Then he pauses. He wants to ask about Mom, but it doesn't seem polite.

But it's Scott, so the half-minute passes and he can't take it any more. "Mom... like, as in Aphrodite?"

[turnthebadinme]

Serena had never been the kind of girl to write poetry in the margins of her notebook. She had nothing of her own to share and she wouldn't have wanted to even if she had, but the idea of something like this, a place to share literature, appealed to her. She'd always meant to start that book club. Maybe she still would. With the play over, she was looking for anything else with which she could fill her days.

Stepping up to the front of the room, she smiled, dipping a shoulder to the side in a cheerful approximation of a curtsy, and looked to Scott. "You didn't say how long it had to be to get the chocolate," she teased, "so I'm reading a little Shel Silverstein. This is called 'Weird-Bird.'

"Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'"

[like_arrows]

I'll give you a full letter grade raise if you can tell me why I'm here. Okay, so there's something to be said for listening to the god of love read Rilke and if you don't love a little Gaiman, I'm not sure you have a soul, but these things, in my experience, tend to filled up with pretentious hipsters and teenage girls who stole their daddy's rhyming dictionary to write about the boy next door, and these things aren't mutually exclusive. There's a reason I skipped if anyone in my school tried to host a poetry slam or a gathering of any kind. But then, that reason was mostly "It's high school," so there's no real harm in turning up to see what the island's residents have to offer.

Given that no one seems to be prepared to offer up their own work, it might not even be that bad. Sitting near the back, I sip my coffee and debate whether or not even chocolate's worth it.

[alas_yorick]

Yorick slips into a chair next to Nico's while someone's in the middle of reading from The Old Man and the Sea. Seriously, The Old Man and the Sea? It's like they're trying to sabotage Scott's shindig.

"Gonna get up there, de Gallo?" he whispers.

[like_arrows]

Looking over at Yorick, I raise my brow at him. "I'm sorry, I don't have any Hemingway memorized. I think I'll be staying right here, thanks. What about you?" After his performance as Bottom -- which, not gonna lie, the name still makes me laugh -- I wouldn't miss that.

[alas_yorick]

"Lame, Nico. Lame." Yorick holds up his copy of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day and grins. "Hell yes I am. This is serious business right here, life changing material."

[likes_to_bite]

Sunny steps forward when it's her turn. She has a piece of paper clutched between both hands, and looks to Mr. Landon for his okay on when to start. Mr. Landon may look like Olaf, but he isn't, and somewhere in her small child's heart it feels like a victory to stand up in front of him, unafraid

[willbewonderful]

Duck scoops her up as soon as she's within reach. He feels raw all over, nowhere moreso than in his heart since Jack disappeared, but being with Sunny makes it easier. Especially when she's being so damn smart he could burst with it.

"Hey there Princess," he says, squeezing her tight. "You did so good. How'd that feel up there?"

[likes_to_bite]

"It was fun, everybody was quiet and clapped at the end!" Sunny buries her face in the side of Duck's neck, wrapping her arms around it. "It was just a little scary," she admits, now that he can't see her face.

[willbewonderful]

"You were?" She's getting big, but Duck holds her like she's still three years old, paper crushed between them. "Couldn't tell at all."