Poem: "Picking Up the Signals"
This poem fills another square on my card for the
cottoncandy_bingo fest. It's actually the last one written for the second column, which hasn't officially reached "bingo" yet because two of the poems are unsponsored: "The Tapestry of Nocciolaia" in Fiorenza the Wisewoman ($10) and "Of Water and the Wheel" in Kung Fu Robots ($20).po
The following poem belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.
Fandom: Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Pick-up line
Medium: Poetry
Summary: Quinn has a little something for everybody. It's just not always the same thing.
Content Notes: Quinn is genderqueer, and the rest of the characters have diverse sexual orientations. The descriptions are suggestive rather than explicit.
Picking Up the Signals
Alex sat in the front row of Quinn's seminar,
all tousled blond hair and blue eyes behind huge glasses,
but instead of taking notes on his executive advice
she covered page after page with esoteric equations.
He caught her in the lounge afterward
and asked what she was doing.
"Oh, I'm just trying to match a bit of chaos theory
with business economics," she said.
Quinn had been fiddling with economic predictions
and brought his data with him, but so far he hadn't
found anyone smart enough to process it all.
This Alex, though ... she seemed hot.
Now he slid his file onto the table,
but kept his hand on the closed folder.
"I'll show you mine," he said,
"If you'll show me yours."
When Alex bought a superconducting supercollider,
she invited Quinn to the pre-grand-opening party
and introduced him to some of her other friends.
Bailey liked hardware. Quinn liked Bailey.
He had a sweet face and long clever fingers
and skin the tone of perfectly toasted crepes.
Bailey became all the more impressive when reality broke
and he helped Alex fix it as much as it could be fixed.
So after the dimensional portal was temporarily closed,
Quinn wandered into Bailey's office and said,
"Would you like to come to a party in my toolshed?"
"You don't have a tool shed. I have a tool shed," Bailey said.
"I mean tool box," Quinn said suggestively.
Bailey liked Quinn's interpersonal tool box.
Morgan was short and round and curvy as a mountain road,
but the first thing that Quinn noticed about her
was that she always looked up. Astronomer, after all.
So Quinn sidled up to her and said,
"My bedroom has a very interesting ceiling..."
Morgan just shook her head and said,
"Mine has a skylight over the bed, and a telescope."
"Your place, then," Quinn said agreeably.
Somehow, they never did get around
to taking their clothes off that night.
Tim the Tentacle Monster arrived along with
the remains of his office building and much calamity.
The team tried very hard to get him home again,
but even with Alex's gigantic brain, Tim remained stranded.
They hadn't given up, but they'd tried all the quick options.
Quinn couldn't stand to see anyone looking so lonely,
and he couldn't seem to pry his eyes off Tim.
Finally Quinn just said, "Do you mind if I stare at you
up close instead of from across the room?"
Tim agreed, so Quinn sat next to him and admired
the slowly changing patterns of quicksilver and pearl
over the smooth powerful surface of his limbs.
"I could sketch you for hours," Quinn said dreamily,
and Tim agreed to that too, so Quinn brought out
charcoals and pastels and swept his fingers
through sensuous spectral lines upon the paper.
Surely Alex knew what she was doing when she
promoted Kay from basic security to team member.
Kay knew her way around guns and rope
and leather and a surprisingly large first-aid kit.
She rarely went anywhere without a dozen items
clipped to her wide brown belt.
At five in the afternoon, Quinn tried,
"I've got the ship, you've got the harbor...
what say we tie up for the night?"
At six, he thought he should've been more specific.
At ten, he decided that no, he was glad he hadn't, because
Kay clearly knew more about shibari than he did
and was happy to share it.
Pat was the one who held everything together
and kept people from rubbing each other the wrong way.
He was handsome and muscled and brown,
and Quinn really thought that someone ought to be
pampering him the way he did for the team.
So one evening Quinn said to Pat,
"How do you like your eggs cooked? Why?
I want to know what to make for you in the morning."
"There are reasons why I don't live in the compound,
and I am married to several of them," Pat said quietly.
"I'm willing to listen to your reasons," Quinn replied.
So Pat took him home to meet the rest of the family.
In the morning, Quinn agreed that they were
all very good reasons, and he wouldn't mind
cooking for them -- or with them -- again.
Ash never brought anybody home for the night
and didn't seem urgently interested in going out either.
Quinn didn't like to see anyone left out, though,
so he decided to try a subtle approach.
"Do you have room in your life for another friend?"
he said to Ash as they poured coffee.
"Is this about sex?" Ash said suspiciously.
"Do you want it to be?" Quinn asked.
"No," Ash said, crossing her arms.
"Then it isn't," Quinn said.
It took her a while to decide that
she could rely on that, but once she did,
they curled up on the couch together and
watched old black-and-white movies all night.
cottoncandy_bingo fest. It's actually the last one written for the second column, which hasn't officially reached "bingo" yet because two of the poems are unsponsored: "The Tapestry of Nocciolaia" in Fiorenza the Wisewoman ($10) and "Of Water and the Wheel" in Kung Fu Robots ($20).po
The following poem belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.
Fandom: Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Prompt: Pick-up line
Medium: Poetry
Summary: Quinn has a little something for everybody. It's just not always the same thing.
Content Notes: Quinn is genderqueer, and the rest of the characters have diverse sexual orientations. The descriptions are suggestive rather than explicit.
Picking Up the Signals
Alex sat in the front row of Quinn's seminar,
all tousled blond hair and blue eyes behind huge glasses,
but instead of taking notes on his executive advice
she covered page after page with esoteric equations.
He caught her in the lounge afterward
and asked what she was doing.
"Oh, I'm just trying to match a bit of chaos theory
with business economics," she said.
Quinn had been fiddling with economic predictions
and brought his data with him, but so far he hadn't
found anyone smart enough to process it all.
This Alex, though ... she seemed hot.
Now he slid his file onto the table,
but kept his hand on the closed folder.
"I'll show you mine," he said,
"If you'll show me yours."
When Alex bought a superconducting supercollider,
she invited Quinn to the pre-grand-opening party
and introduced him to some of her other friends.
Bailey liked hardware. Quinn liked Bailey.
He had a sweet face and long clever fingers
and skin the tone of perfectly toasted crepes.
Bailey became all the more impressive when reality broke
and he helped Alex fix it as much as it could be fixed.
So after the dimensional portal was temporarily closed,
Quinn wandered into Bailey's office and said,
"Would you like to come to a party in my toolshed?"
"You don't have a tool shed. I have a tool shed," Bailey said.
"I mean tool box," Quinn said suggestively.
Bailey liked Quinn's interpersonal tool box.
Morgan was short and round and curvy as a mountain road,
but the first thing that Quinn noticed about her
was that she always looked up. Astronomer, after all.
So Quinn sidled up to her and said,
"My bedroom has a very interesting ceiling..."
Morgan just shook her head and said,
"Mine has a skylight over the bed, and a telescope."
"Your place, then," Quinn said agreeably.
Somehow, they never did get around
to taking their clothes off that night.
Tim the Tentacle Monster arrived along with
the remains of his office building and much calamity.
The team tried very hard to get him home again,
but even with Alex's gigantic brain, Tim remained stranded.
They hadn't given up, but they'd tried all the quick options.
Quinn couldn't stand to see anyone looking so lonely,
and he couldn't seem to pry his eyes off Tim.
Finally Quinn just said, "Do you mind if I stare at you
up close instead of from across the room?"
Tim agreed, so Quinn sat next to him and admired
the slowly changing patterns of quicksilver and pearl
over the smooth powerful surface of his limbs.
"I could sketch you for hours," Quinn said dreamily,
and Tim agreed to that too, so Quinn brought out
charcoals and pastels and swept his fingers
through sensuous spectral lines upon the paper.
Surely Alex knew what she was doing when she
promoted Kay from basic security to team member.
Kay knew her way around guns and rope
and leather and a surprisingly large first-aid kit.
She rarely went anywhere without a dozen items
clipped to her wide brown belt.
At five in the afternoon, Quinn tried,
"I've got the ship, you've got the harbor...
what say we tie up for the night?"
At six, he thought he should've been more specific.
At ten, he decided that no, he was glad he hadn't, because
Kay clearly knew more about shibari than he did
and was happy to share it.
Pat was the one who held everything together
and kept people from rubbing each other the wrong way.
He was handsome and muscled and brown,
and Quinn really thought that someone ought to be
pampering him the way he did for the team.
So one evening Quinn said to Pat,
"How do you like your eggs cooked? Why?
I want to know what to make for you in the morning."
"There are reasons why I don't live in the compound,
and I am married to several of them," Pat said quietly.
"I'm willing to listen to your reasons," Quinn replied.
So Pat took him home to meet the rest of the family.
In the morning, Quinn agreed that they were
all very good reasons, and he wouldn't mind
cooking for them -- or with them -- again.
Ash never brought anybody home for the night
and didn't seem urgently interested in going out either.
Quinn didn't like to see anyone left out, though,
so he decided to try a subtle approach.
"Do you have room in your life for another friend?"
he said to Ash as they poured coffee.
"Is this about sex?" Ash said suspiciously.
"Do you want it to be?" Quinn asked.
"No," Ash said, crossing her arms.
"Then it isn't," Quinn said.
It took her a while to decide that
she could rely on that, but once she did,
they curled up on the couch together and
watched old black-and-white movies all night.