torchwood: two hands in love

Whee!

The picture prompt meme is still going strong! There are now 28 fills in 18 fandoms, plus lots and lots of new prompts. If you were not able to find inspiration before, there is probably something for you now!

In other interesting linkages, eppic is gauging interest in a Sulu comment fic fest, and I am alarmed by the lack of response. I want a Sulu fest! Go tell her that you want one too!

rubynye has a social justice recs post for X-Men: First Class which I thoroughly enjoyed perusing. I haven't gotten to read any of the fics yet (too busy being obsessed by Sherlock!) but I suspect I will be re-reccing many of them soon.

And last but not least, have some excerpts from my WIPS:


This is supposed to be about Sarek going to his mother for help when he really pisses off a pregnant Amanda. They are both kind of baffled by how to make a human not be really freaking angry, and they have a deadpan conversation about gifts that may or may not be suitable for unhappy wives.

The door slammed, and then Sarek heard the sound of a motor starting. The motor of his hoverbike, specifically. And then Amanda was gone. Two hours later, when she had not returned, he went to the home of his mother.

“What is your purpose here, Sarek?”

The directness of the inquiry was soothing after his long assignment on Earth, where all conversations began with cumbersome pleasantries.

“I have had a conflict with my wife.”

His mother cocked an eyebrow.

“Come in, Sarek. We will discuss the issue.”

He is silently grateful that she did not say, “I told you so.”

***



I picked this up as an amnesty prompt at queer_fest, but I didn't get it done by the deadline.

“Have you ever considered that you're gay?”

Hermione snorted without looking up from her book.

“That's ridiculous, Luna.”

She flicked her eyes upward for a moment, just long enough to appreciate Luna's hot pink nargle-deflecting glasses and dangly orange earrings. As if anyone wearing that could expect to be taken seriously. She licked a finger and turned a page of insert book title here.

“No, it's not.”

Luna's voice sounded decidedly less dreamy than usual.

“I like Ron,” she hissed. Then, in a more composed voice, she added, “In any case, I'm not arguing about my sexuality with you. It's none of your business.”

“No, I suppose not,” Luna said, sounding dreamy once again. “You'd be happier if you accepted yourself though. You look at other girls all the time, and you don't even realize it.”

Hermione snapped her book shut loudly enough to make Madame Pince glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “Good-bye,” she said to Luna as fiercely as she could while cowering under the librarian's glare.

***



This is set the summer before Gaila starts at the Academy, and Gaila has done a lot of the hard psychological work of recovering from her time as a slave, but she is still quite wary and mistrustful. I have been outlining a lot, but haven't written anything new in awhile, probably because I have failed to actually PM any of the people who said I could PM them to talk about rape recovery.

Gaila's pissed when she slides out of the maintenance hatch and sees Commander Spock sitting in front of a computer panel. Not that she's going to show it.

“Commander Spock,” she says, and even a Vulcan would be proud of her neutrality. “I wasn't aware that shuttle maintenance fell under your assignment parameters.”

“In Starfleet, you will quickly find that when work must be done, it does not matter whether it falls within the normal scope of duties.”

Sanctimonious asshole, she thinks. She might be wearing cadet reds, but that doesn't mean she's a lazy, naïve idiot. From the first moment she had bargained her labor for passage on a pirate freighter, she had known that “the normal scope of duties” counted for nothing – except that computer programmers and linguistic specialists were not nearly as good at engineering as she was, and they'd better stay the fuck away from her summer shuttle maintenance job.

“Your method of sensor calibration is inefficient.” She leans over to inspect his programming code more closely. “And also wrong.”
***



I started this way back in January, and although I desperately love it, I'm not sure if it's ever going to get done. I can't remember where I actually intended for the story to go.

It took Hikaru nearly a whole day to figure out his mother was probably dead. It hit him suddenly back in his quarters, where he was holding a bag of frozen peas over his black eye because raiding the mess hall had seemed easier than waiting in sickbay's triage line. His mom had taught him this trick a long time ago, the last time she had had a posting on a starbase and they could all live together. And then he realized that fuck, some of the wreckage out there had been the Farragut, and his mom was probably dead.

But what was he supposed to do with that knowledge? He waited to feel something, but the sadness wouldn't come. Neither would guilt, or anger, or anything else he expected people felt when someone very important died. He just laid there on his bunk, holding the bag of peas over his eye, feeling stupid and vaguely confused. His hand twitched for his communicator, but he pulled it back. He wasn't sure who to call, and anyway, what was he going to say?

***



This one is for a prompt I received way back in January. See, I do hold onto these things and work on them, even when it seems like they've been forgotten! The first half of this, where Gaila and Spock are both very unphased by the death of a cadet, is finished. I'm having much more trouble with the second half of the story, when they have both returned from the Battle of Vulcan and both very troubled by the losses they experienced.

Cadet Gary R. Mitchell, best friend of James T. Kirk, beloved throughout the academy for his brilliant smiles and mysterious supply of Romulan Ale, was dead. His demise in a shuttle accident two Terran months into their first year at the Academy propelled approximately 97% of their fellow cadets into an orgiastic display of grief. Black crepe paper festooned the doorway to his quarters, grief counselors appeared in their classrooms, and nearly every sentient being in their class had mobbed the quad for a memorial service. Gaila, who had never known that grief could stop people from working, mostly felt confused and out of place. She had not known Gary Mitchell at all; in fact, she was sure that many of the people massed in the quad had never had a conversation with him. She had known dozens, perhaps even a hundred, slaves who had perished to cruel masters, untreated illnesses, and poor working conditions. Some of them had been her friends, some her lovers, and some even people she loved. She had, on occasion, held their hands while they passed from this world to the next. And afterward, she had gotten up and continued with her life. Which was exactly what she was doing now.


And then of course there is my Big Bang, which I am not allowed to post anywhere till it's done, and there is also a Torchwood story in my notebook that I don't care to type up right now. I remember when I absolutely, positively refused to allow myself to start a new story unless the old one was finished... Those were the days!
I love your snarly Gaila and your proudly humble Sarek and well all of them. Eee.

I also love the commentfic meme and have half a dozen ideas for it. And am currently stealing time from babysitting to even write this, so ghu knows when I'll get to finish reading all the fills let alone add any of my own...
There's a Fringe-related idea teasing about my mind for the one with the plant curling up the side of what looks to be an institutional or hospital window (to me anyway), and there's another teasing about for your multi-colored rose that doesn't know what fandom it wants to be yet. Or if it wants to be fandom at all.

But I don't know that I'm going to coax them out of the back of my mind before I go on vacation. :)

As far as multiple WIPs...sigh. shinychimera and I just completely scrapped over 2K words on our follow-up to "Bottled Up".
what looks to be an institutional or hospital window (to me anyway)

The funny thing is that it's actually a totally innocuous apartment building in Boston. It's amazing what black and white film and a cloudy day can do to creepify a place though!

And yeah, it is a little dangerous...I have a bunny for almost every picture. I am making myself stay away until I have written more of my big bang though...
No pressure! I think it is awesome that you have been able to make time to read little bits of it!
oh my god the sulu one. that's the story i never even realized i needed until just now.
I actually started it as a prequel to the Kirk/Sulu's mom one that I wrote for your Sulu-off last year. Let's hope I figure out an actual plot for it soon!
Thank you for the encouragment! I think they may take awhile to get here, but they will get done :)
Oooh, gay Hermione! I am, predictably, the most curious about the Gaila-Spock ones. :D
Excuse me while I flail all over this post
Oh the Sulu one ;____; I adore the way you have always handled him in other stories, so I have faith that if the muse strikes you will turn that WIP into something amazing.

(I see upthread the reference to your previous Kirk/Sulu's mom story - I read that story ages ago, and your portrayal of Sulu's mom was so human and vivid that I can still see her very clearly in my mind. TBH I would be as much excited about her potential return as I am about a Sulu-centric story!)
Re: Excuse me while I flail all over this post
Thank you so much for the encouragement! It really does help -- I managed to add a couple more scenes to it today!