I'd like to point out that withdrawal is nasty. Just urgh.
The WiP collection. I haven't done this in awhile, so I might as well dust it off and check out what's being actively being worked on.
I'm limiting to things I've actually spent more than five seconds on in the last two weeks, which is basically, four stories.
The Yard - I add, I stare, I erase, I hate, I bitch to svmadelyn, who comforts, then I add, stare...you see the pattern? Good. My fingers are getting tired.
Then she sends me covers, because she knows I'll guilt myself into adding another section if she does. I so hate her.
*Mother touched the screen, pulling up a file. "I'm not seeing anything in these test results that makes me believe he was mentally damaged by the exposure." Her eyes narrowed in interest, and Kal wondered what she was seeing. "Are you sure this is accurate?"*
*"His genome was sampled and sent through the computer several times."*
*"Humans don't have a learning curve this fast." Flicking through rapidly, his mother nodded. "This correlates with what was sent to me by the department head. This sounds merely disciplinary." *
*The man sighed, eyes rolling. "He refuses, doctor."*
*"He's a child. Basic conditioning should have seen some results by now."*
*If it were possible, Kal would think the other man was grinding his teeth. "Some. Not enough. He will obey direct orders but refuses to communicate in our language. He--acts out in unusual ways. We have a human psychologist also working with him, but she has failed to find the root of the problem. I've asked for a more--rigorous training procedure, but there is worry that his mind may not--survive intact."*
*There'd been failures, Kal knows now. Several had been mistakes in the original program, and the results, while flawed, were still useful. But then, they were still learning, and there were too few of these children for them to risk more with untested procedures.*
*"Who are they?" Kal had asked when the man finally left, clutching the screen and looking unhappy.*
*"Humanity's future. Your future, too." His mother had been watching carefully. "They were--given to us, under our protection, to be raised with our ways. They are extremely important to our plans, Kal. That's why they're kept here."*
*"The rebellion?" Kal watched another child setting paper on fire. A proctor didn't seem upset, simply watching as the paper crackled, then uttering a sharp command. Instantly, the paper was left as char, big brown eyes staring up, wide and worried, until the proctor crouched beside him, murmuring quietly.*
*"A few were--taken from us." His mother's mouth was tight. "We haven't been able to recover them. Mor, pull me up the file on Subject A-14. I might as well see what should be added to the current regime."*
*Kal watched his mother cross to a knot of scientists in the middle, then turned his attention back to the room.*
*"...a thermonuclear device? Here?"*
*"...we don't know how he found the materials, though we suspect that his comprehension of the language aided in his--"*
*"Let me understand. You can't get him to speak, but you think he's capable of hacking our databases? I'd say he's making tremendous progress, except for the fact that, apparently, he's building crude atomic weaponry in the labs. And crude though it may be, it's functional, is it not?"*
*Kal's attention was caught by one of the boys--though all of them were almost identical, small uniforms of plain grey, some with shaved heads, which his mother said meant they'd just come back from testing. It doesn't hurt them, she'd explained carefully. We simply need to know more about them.*
*He must have been among those in tests. Curled in the corner, he was reading something that looked depressingly thick--from here, Kal could see the title was one of the physics books that Dad kept on his desk at home. Very blue eyes were scanning the page, and Kal wondered about the variety of human life--so many different variations in the spectrum, unlike Kryptonians, which Mother called 'fatally inbred'. This was part of that, too, though Kal wasn't sure how.*
*The other children were more interesting, though, and Kal watched them demonstrate strange things--things his people could do, but more things they couldn't.*
*It was sharp enough to be heard through the glass, and Kal instantly felt the pressure of the scientists gathered around to watch. Kal watched in interest as Lex straightened--ah, the one reading--looking over at where an entire panel had begun to act strangely, blinking on and off.*
*"The little bastard turned off the oxygen. They've been breathing nitrogen for the last hour." His mother's voice was--hushed. "I don't believe this. The fail safes--"*
*"He must have organized some of the other more--unusually gifted to help." Even to Kal, they sounded more awed than angry.*
*"Find out how. And bring me a copy of his reading list and everything he's accessed on his terminal." Mother had smiled then, and Kal had wondered why this boy pleased her so much. "I'll want an interview at the next cycle. See to it."*
Queer as Folk
1.) Stumble and Fall - cjandre returned the beta with some serious food for thought in the mix. I took down the one on my page a few weeks ago, and now I'm trying to put her comments together in a practical kind of way. I left out a *lot*. It's just now hitting me how much.
*stares at it. Add, glare, delete, etc.*
A hand on his arm spins him around, stupid Michael, his balance is for *shit*. Michael's got to know that, it's a Friday night and who the hell is sober on a Friday anyway? "Justin! What the hell are you *on*?"
Justin grins in his general direction. "Life." Mostly, anyway. Justin opens his eyes on a frantic face and hears himself giggle. Maybe less than mostly. Maybe. "Michael. Where's your other half?"
"The hospital," Michael answers shortly, and Justin stops fighting the grip, letting Michael pull him through the crowd still gathered outside. A hand gropes his ass. Justin wishes they'd stop long enough to get a phone number.
"What happened?" Ben was fine, he saw him this morning, and Justin's mind flies off on a thousand different possibilities, none of them good. "What--"
Michael looks at him like he's the biggest idiot on earth, and Justin almost pulls away on principle, because really, Mikey has no room to play the oh-so-wise really-annoying older-brother anymore, dammit. "What the fuck is up with your cell anyway? No one can get through."
Justin grabs it from his hip as Michael maneuvers him into the passenger side of the car and then jogs around the front. That's kind of funny, actually, and Justin swallows another giggle, biting his lip as Michael gets in, seatbelting himself into position like the good little Boy Scout from hell, and then peals out, which is totally not in the Michael lexicon, especially when it sends two people onto the pavement in some kind of vaguely Bruce Willis dive that--heh. Wait. This is serious. Right. "Battery's dead. What's wrong?" He's not liking Michael's silence, the way his mouth's too tight, and there are light circles under his eyes, and Justin doesn't like that look.
"What's going on? Who--Mel? Is it--" And all desire to giggle just stops right there, because--something to do with Mel. Something related, vaguely, though his mind won't make the connection quite yet. Turning in the seat, Justin grabs for Michael's arm, probably not smart, since Michael just turned into *so* the wrong lane.
"No, not Mel, you idiot." A hand bats at his head, and Justin ducks instinctively. "Daphne went into labor."
2.) How It's Gonna Be - you know, canon is annoying. I'm just saying, trying to deliberately forget season four is so not easy. But okay. Can do this. Or at least, pretned to.
It's a mistake to move, Justin knows it, even when he sits up too fast, catching his breath that his back has to actually *bend* to pull that off, groping for the phone on the floor, glad it's close enough that he can fall right back down and breathe again. Lifting it slowly to his ear, he pushes the button, eyes closed. He needs more than Advil right now "Hello?"
"Our conversation got interrupted."
Every muscle goes stiff and still. God, he should have taken the painkillers when he got in. "How did you get my number?" If Emmett gave him his cell phone number, Justin will find new and creative ways to make his life a living hell.
"Careful." The bastard sounds so fucking amused. "I thought you were interested in what I have to say?"
What the hell is this, a bad melodrama? His back hurts and he's exhausted and his boyfriend isn't employed and isn't *here*, and God help him, he worked a comic shop again today and it felt too close to natural for him to ever be comfortable with his self-image again. "Fuck off." And if he was just a little stronger, he'd hang the fuck up.
Justin freezes, reciever inches from his ear. "What?"
The smugness radiates over the line. "He's in New York with the little hustler. At least, he was yesterday morning."
Christ. "You don't know anything."
"Maybe you should ask Brian about all those charges to his credit card."
Christ. Justin tries to think of something to say, but liar, liar sounds stupid, even to him, and
"I'm sure local law enforcement would be very interested to know where a suspected child molester is hiding out." A pause. "And who was helping him."
3.) Untitled Porn Thing - I have no idea how to justify this. Except maybe the 'ooh, pretty'. Because. Me? I think, 'oooh. Pretty'.
They've done everything, Justin said it once, and it's mostly true, they *have*, at least once, apart if not together, but Justin's not sure they've done this specific thing. Brian looks at him like he's lost his mind when his eyes focus on the slim boy lingering by the door. He looks twelve right now, but Justin checked his ID in the car, so he's as legal as boys who want to fuck boys ever get. Just barely.
"You are fucking kidding me."
"He's cute," Justin offers, getting a bottle of water from the fridge, and the giggles are going to have to stop soon, because giggling during sex is a turn-off for everyone involved. Turning, he waves the kid over. "Want something?" He's not entirely sure what to offer--he can count on one hand the number of virgins he's had, and few of them ever came home with him.
"I'm good." Awkward in too-big jeans, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatshirt. His hair hangs in his eyes, and Justin likes the way he peers out from under it. It's a good look for him. It works on Brian, too--Brian can say anything he likes about experience and boring twinks who know shit, but the truth is, and Justin knows it, innocence turns him on.
And pretty blond virgins are far and between on Liberty. Justin leans into the counter, letting Brian look his fill, amused at the slow flush of the kid's cheeks, the way he shifts, but he's getting hard for it, and who the hell wouldn't?
When Brian looks back at Justin, he's hooked, even if he doesn't say it, just ducks by Justin for a beer. Like there's any chance in hell that this kid is getting out of here cherry intact.
"These are the rules," Justins says, leaning his elbows into the counter and focusing on the kid. "You stay, we play, you go home, no staying, no calling, no stalking after." Because God knows, and Justin knows, the notions kids get. He used to get those kinds of thoughts himself.
The brown eyes glaze a little, and Justin watches them focus behind him, staring at Brian, no surprise there. Pink lips part as he swallows hard and nods quickly. No surprise there, either. Circling the small kitchen island, Justin lets the kid retreat a few steps, getting his bearings. He wants it, no question--the way his eyes fix on Brian tells Justin everything he needs to know on that score--but he's dealing. Fair enough.
Justin kisses him because it's the easiest thing to do--that soft, perfect mouth that tastes like him now, and Justin has to give him credit, he swallowed, no problem. Tentative, fingers flutter on his shoulders, brushing Justin's jaw, opening for Justin's tongue like a flower in the sun.
He's hard when Justin pushes a knee between his legs, making soft, uncertain sounds, like he's not entirely sure he's supposed to be this excited this fast. Smoothing his hands through the soft hair, Justin licks over the silky line of his jaw, letting the kid ride his thigh. He could come from this, Justin thinks a little clinically, leaning back enough to see dilated pupils and flushed skin, eyes closing as he works himself up. Just like this.